Chapter 87: Chapter 87
He stepped back, the air warping with his presence. The torches flickered, shadows bending unnaturally. Evelisse clutched Caelith’s arm, his shallow breaths warm against her hand.
The messenger’s voice rang out one last time, dripping with malice.
"Sleep well, little lamb. And dream of the day your mask shatters. When it does... I will be there to watch you fall."
The last echo of the messenger’s cruel laughter clung to the air, then dissolved into nothingness along with his shadowed form. The oppressive magic that had locked the room shimmered and shattered like glass, the veil lifted in an instant. The suffocating pressure was gone.
Lady Marwen blinked rapidly, her eyes widening as if waking from a dream. She gasped, clutching at her chest before whipping her head around—her composure gone, horror dawning as her gaze landed on Caelith crumpled against the stone floor.
Her body moved before her mind could even catch up—skirts rustling violently as she stumbled forward, nearly collapsing to her knees beside the crumpled form of Prince Caelith.
"Your Highness!" Her voice cracked in horror, trembling fingers hovering before daring to touch him. His sleeve was shredded, skin bruised black and blue, streaks of blood at the corner of his lips. He looked nothing like the composed boy she had known mere moments ago.
"Lady Marwen..." Evelisse whispered hoarsely, her legs unsteady. She hadn’t realized she was shaking until her knees gave way beneath her, and she dropped beside them, hands clutching helplessly at her skirt.
"It’s my fault. I—it’s because of me." Her voice wavered like a child caught in a storm, her eyes wide and wet.
Caelith stirred weakly, forcing his heavy lids open. Even with blood staining his mouth, he turned his head toward her, trying to smile through the agony.
"Don’t... say that." His voice was rough, breaking with the effort of speaking. "You didn’t... bring him here."
"But he wanted me!" Evelisse’s cry tore out of her chest before she could stop it. "He said I was the reason—he said I was the one they needed! And you—" Her small fists trembled as they gripped at her dress. "—you got hurt because you tried to protect me! I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save you. I just watched."
Her words broke off into sobs, shoulders quivering, head bent so low her tears dripped onto the ground.
"Caelith! Please, don’t leave me—"
His lips parted faintly, whispering something she barely caught. A single word.
Lady Marwen’s heart squeezed painfully at the sight—the little princess, shattered and drowning in guilt, and the young prince clinging stubbornly to strength when he should have been unconscious from the pain.
Her throat locked, the weight of duty pressing against her chest.
’How do I explain this?’ she thought frantically. ’What words could possibly soothe Her Majesty when she sees her son ? Or His Majesty...?’
The image of King Elros’s fury, cold and merciless when his family was threatened, made her stomach churn.
"Evelisse..." Caelith’s strained whisper pulled her back. His hand, trembling and bruised, lifted off the floor and found Evelisse’s own. His grip was weak, but the warmth of it was steady. "You’re... safe. That’s all... that matters."
She shook her head violently, tears spilling fresh. "How can you say that? You’re lying here—bleeding—because of me!"
A small, pained laugh escaped him, followed by a wince. "If protecting you... makes me act cool... then I don’t want to be strong."
That single sentence cut through Evelisse like a blade and balm at once. Her chest squeezed until it hurt to breathe. She clutched his hand desperately, shaking her head again. "Please don’t joke like that! Please, Caelith..."
Lady Marwen pressed both hands to her face, trembling herself now. ’What am I to do? How can I carry this weight alone? If I tell the Queen, her heart will shatter. If I tell the King—heavens help us, his wrath would burn the realm.’
She lowered her hands, eyes darting between the two friends—the boy who bore agony with quiet pride, and the girl collapsing under guilt too heavy for her small shoulders.
Her voice cracked when she finally spoke. "We... we mustn’t let this reach the King and Queen just yet. At least... not until we understand what—who—that creature or person was. They must not see you , Prince Caelith."
Evelisse lifted her tear-streaked face, eyes red and wide. "But we can’t hide it. He could have—he could have KILLED you!"
Marwen’s breath caught. She wanted to agree. She wanted to scream the same. But she bit down on the panic. "If His Majesty knows an intruder slipped past the wards and harmed his son under my watch..." Her voice trembled despite her attempt to steady it. "He will not only raze the land in vengeance—he may lose trust in all of Florabelle. I cannot... I will not allow that."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Evelisse looked back at Caelith, who was still clutching her hand weakly, his eyelids drooping. She brushed hair from his damp forehead with shaking fingers.
Her heart throbbed painfully, as if each beat screamed "you failed him’.
And yet—even in his battered state—he tried to smile again, just for her.
"It’s not your fault," he whispered. "So don’t... cry like that."
Evelisse bent forward, pressing her forehead gently to his shoulder as her tears fell harder. "I’m so sorry... I’m so, so sorry."
Lady Marwen swallowed back the terror coiling in her chest. She had to stay composed—for them. For the visit. But as she looked at the blood staining the marble, she could not stop the thought clawing in her mind:
’How long before this darkness comes for them all?’
Lady Marwen forced herself to breathe. One hand pressed to her mouth to smother her rising panic, the other steadying herself against the cold marble floor. She could not let them see her break, not now.
"Stay with us, Your Highness," she murmured, brushing damp strands of black hair from Caelith’s forehead. "Please... just stay awake."
But his silver eyes—normally so sharp, so steady—were flickering now, like candlelight struggling against the wind. Evelisse clutched his hand tighter, terrified that if she let go, he would vanish into the same darkness that had swallowed the messenger.
The silence after her whispered apology felt endless, broken only by Caelith’s ragged breaths.
And then—shouts. Boots pounding against marble. The spell that had cloaked the castle was gone, and sound returned with terrifying urgency. The doors to the hall burst open, armored guards stumbling in with weapons drawn, eyes wild as they scanned the scene.
Lady Marwen’s heart lurched as their gazes locked on Caelith, bruised and bloodied in Evelisse’s arms. Gasps rippled through them, several dropping to their knees at once.
"Summon the healers!" Marwen snapped, her voice steadier than she felt. "Hurry—NOW!"
The room exploded into motion.
Strong hands lifted the Crown Prince of Elaris with all the care of cradling glass. Evelisse’s cry pierced the commotion as she tried to hold onto his hand. "Don’t take him—please, don’t take him away from me!"
"Princess, we must—" one guard stammered, bowing even as he tried to move Caelith toward the infirmary.
"No! I have to—" Evelisse’s voice broke. Her small hands clutched desperately at his sleeve until Caelith, struggling to keep his eyes open, gave her the faintest, tired smile.
"Stay close," he whispered, before finally sagging limp in the arms of the guard. Evelisse’s world cracked at the sight.
They rushed him from the chamber, Evelisse stumbling after them, Lady Marwen steadying her by the shoulders though her own knees threatened to give out.
The corridors filled with chaos. Courtiers frozen mid-task regained their senses all at once, whispers hissing like wildfire. But before a single rumor could take root, another presence swept through the chaos.
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Her gown shimmered like molten silver, her hair a crown of braided ruby, her aura a storm of authority. At her heels thundered Evelisse’s seven brothers—Lucien at the front, the stoic eldest with eyes like sharpened steel.
"Mother!" Felix’s broken cry echoed, his fourteen-year-old voice trembling as he reached for Evelisse first.
The others crowded her instantly—Marcus steadying her by the elbow, Leo and Lance dropping their joking facades and checking her over as if she might shatter, Jared’s usually teasing grin absent, replaced with worry, Callum’s quiet hand pressing hers with paint-stained fingers.