The doors to the private chamber of the Crown Hall clicked shut with a quiet finality.
Inside, Empress Eleanor stood by the tall window, hands clasped loosely behind her back. She wore no crown, only a high-collared gown of dark blue velvet. The light from the overcast sky washed across her face, giving her an almost carved stillness.
Crown Prince Thalion sat in one of the high-backed chairs near the center of the room, elbows on the armrests, fingers tapping lightly against each other. He looked more like a man bracing for a sword fight than a royal hearing a legal appeal.
"You've read the petition?" Eleanor asked without turning.
"I have," Thalion replied. "All of it. Including the amendments submitted yesterday morning."
"And?"
"It's not just a divorce request. It's an accusation."
The Empress finally turned to face him. Her expression gave nothing away.
"She's claiming coercion, political manipulation, conspiracy... and more." He paused, lips tight. "They also mentioned they intend to present something sensitive - for your eyes and mine only. Nothing has been submitted in writing yet. Seraphina insisted it be kept confidential until the audience. It got my attention."
Eleanor nodded slowly. "I see."
Thalion leaned forward. "And if it's true, it doesn't just affect the marriage. It threatens the structure of half the council."
Eleanor moved to the table and sat across from him. Her hands folded neatly in her lap.
"According to her petition, she's also submitted a sealed report tied to the death of Duke D'Lorien. It was reviewed under Warden oversight and flagged for imperial review."
Thalion's fingers stopped tapping.
"And?"
"It's confirmed that the assassination was premeditated. The forged ledgers, diverted funds, and falsified orders all trace back to House Vessant."
He sat up straighter. "Do we know who in the family was involved?"
"No names yet. The paper trail stops short of that. It could be his parents. It could be Alaric. Or someone working under their banner. We need more time to confirm."
Thalion exhaled slowly. "The reports came in clear, but not specific."
"Exactly," Eleanor said. "The documentation builds a strong case that House Vessant was behind it, but the names remain redacted, missing, or manipulated. We're still reviewing."
"So we're not certain if it was Alaric, or his family, or someone acting on their behalf."
"Right now, all we know is that the money, the orders, the trail - it all points back to them. That alone is significant. But we need more to say anything definitively."
Thalion leaned back, thoughtful. "We've waited years for a lead on Duke D'Lorien. This isn't closure, but it's the first real direction we've had."
"We've waited years for an answer," Thalion muttered. "And now we're still stuck with more questions."
"We have direction now," Eleanor said. "The court won't protect Vessant once this becomes public. But we move carefully. No accusations without full proof."
Thalion nodded, jaw tight. "If he was involved, I want it exposed. No exceptions."
"We will," Eleanor said. "But we let Seraphina speak first. Her petition may help reveal who really orchestrated what."
"Do you believe her?"
He didn't answer right away. He stared at the corner of the table, jaw tight.
"I believe something went very wrong. I believe she was forced into silence, but I don't think Alaric fully understands what he's involved in. If someone wanted her removed, it may not have started with him."
"But do you believe she has the right to dissolve the marriage on those grounds?"
"Yes."
Eleanor studied him. "Even if it unravels half the alliances that keep the court stable? Even if it names a future high councillor as complicit in treason?"
Thalion met her gaze. "Especially then."
For a long moment, the Empress said nothing.
Then she stood.
"Summon them," she said. "If what she brings is true, then we will hear it. But not as rumor. Not as personal grievance. As imperial evidence."
Thalion rose to follow her.
"One more thing," she added, pausing at the door.
"Yes?"
"Whatever truth comes of this, we respond as rulers. Not as politicians. Not as family."
Thalion nodded once.
"Understood."
Together, they stepped out into the hall, ready to receive Seraphina D'Lorien.
Earlier that morning, the carriage carrying Seraphina and Caelan had been quiet for a long stretch. Their private conversation still lingered in her mind as they approached the hall. She had studied his face more than once, watching the tension that hadn't eased since the day before.
"Are you sure you don't want to report it?" she asked softly.
Caelan turned his gaze to her, unreadable. "What would that change?"
"It would name her. It would put the truth on record."
He looked away, his jaw tightening. "You think anyone wants to hear that? That I was drugged and cornered? They'll twist it. They'll say I wanted it or that I was too weak to stop it."
"It was assault, Caelan. That doesn't change just because you're a man."
He gave a bitter laugh. "Tell that to the nobles. Tell that to the ones who feed on scandal. I don't want it in whispers or court talk. I don't want it remembered."
Seraphina leaned forward slightly, her voice firmer. "You shouldn't have to hide your pain just because of who you are. You're allowed to name what happened to you. Strong men are still human. Even Wardens can be hurt."
His eyes flicked to hers, quiet but wary.
"You think anyone will believe me?"
"I do. And if they don't, I will remind them why they must. You didn't imagine it. You didn't invite it. You were violated."
Caelan looked down, his hand curling into a fist. "I don't want to relive it. I don't want to stand in front of them and be a curiosity."
"Then don't. But don't bury it because you think your suffering is somehow less valid. If you choose silence, let it be yours, not something forced on you by fear."
He breathed slowly. "You really think I'd be heard?"
"Yes," she said. "And if you ever want to be, I'll be beside you. Publicly or not. You have the right to speak. The right to be believed."
Caelan met her eyes, and something in his expression softened. "Thank you. For saying it out loud."
Seraphina gave a faint nod. "Just don't forget it."
He didn't respond immediately, but some of the tightness in his shoulders eased.
She didn't press further. Some wounds needed silence to begin healing.
The corridor outside the chamber was quiet. Courtiers had been kept at bay for this audience, and only a pair of royal guards stood posted at the main doors to the audience hall.
Eleanor paused just before they entered. "What do you make of Caelan's involvement?"
Thalion frowned. "It's a risk. His reputation is clean, but he's placed himself squarely in Seraphina's corner. That tells me he's either seen something we haven't or is willing to stake everything on her word."
"Caelan doesn't make reckless moves," Eleanor said.
"No," Thalion agreed. "He doesn't."
They moved into the great hall. The light pouring through the stained-glass windows painted fractured colors across the marble floor. A dozen recordkeepers and two Warden observers were already in place, seated in the upper gallery. This would not be a trial. Not yet. But it would be recorded.
Eleanor took her seat at the head of the high table. Thalion sat to her right. Attendants moved quietly around them, placing fresh ink, empty scrolls, and the official imperial seal.
"Send for them," Eleanor said.
An attendant bowed and stepped out.
Thalion tapped a finger once on the table. "Do you remember the last time she stood in this hall?"
Eleanor gave a slow nod. "I remember the silence. The way she stood there when asked about the engagement to House Vessant. She said yes, and she looked happy. Naive, even. She believed in what they told her, in what Alaric showed her."
Thalion's jaw tightened. "She thought it was love."
"It probably was. For her," Eleanor said. "But she's not that girl anymore."
She paused, her expression distant. "Do you remember how she used to walk the garden paths with that little leather-bound book? She thought no one noticed when she wrote down poetry. I asked once what it was for, and she told me it was to remember the moments no one else would."
Thalion gave a faint breath of amusement. "I remember. She tried to teach herself the court dances from old scrolls, said she'd rather fail in private than look foolish in front of Alaric."
"And she always looked up when someone entered the room," Eleanor added. "Like she expected kindness to follow behind the sound of footsteps."
"She was hopeful," Thalion said, quieter now. "Too hopeful."
"Not anymore," Eleanor said. "Hope doesn't survive what she went through. But something else did. And that something is walking through those doors today."
She looked toward the doors. "Now she's coming back with eyes wide open—bringing fire we didn't see before."
Thalion's jaw tightened. "She was different then. Younger. Controlled."
"Now she's deliberate," Eleanor said. "Every step she takes is her own."
Neither of them said more. But the weight of that memory hung in the air between them.
Today would be different.
Today, they would listen.