{"In the silence of my mind, he found me and for the first time in centuries, I didn't want to be alone."}
I moved towards the Castle and finally ended up in the garden. The garden air was salt-sweet, laced with jasmine and quiet unrest. Moonlight filtered through the pearl-glass arches, casting fractal patterns across the obsidian pathways that spiralled through the hidden sanctuary beneath the castle. It had been untouched since my last visit, still teeming with bioluminescent flora that responded to my presence like a forgotten prayer answered.
And in the centre of it all stood Caelan. Barefoot. Silent. Bathed in the silver-blue glow. His gaze lingered on the surface of the koi-lake, where the light refracted in soft waves like dreams trying to take shape. He did not startle when I approached. Of course, he did not.
"You knew I'd find you," I said, stepping onto the smooth stone behind him. "Did you intend to draw me out?"
He did not answer immediately. He inhaled slowly, deeply as though the garden's magic was the only air worth breathing.
Then, "No," he murmured. "Not on purpose. But I suppose I knew you had come."
His tone was infuriatingly calm. The kind of calm that cloaked restlessness in beauty.
"You hate confinement," I said it more to myself than him, watching the way his posture curved toward freedom, chin lifted, eyes skyward, chest open like he could drink in the stars.
Caelan gave a short laugh. "You built a fortress of glass, Morkai. Stunning. Immaculate. But still... a cage."
"Pearl glass isn't meant to imprison," I said flatly.
"But it does," he replied. "Just prettier than stone or steel."
I folded my arms, watching him from the corner of my eye. "You've been here less than a day and already crave the outside."
"I don't crave the outside," he said. "I crave movement. Breath. Sky. I hate walls. Does not matter if they are transparent or made of diamond. My soul does not understand containment."
His voice struck a chord I had not known still existed in me.
I studied him. The wind toyed with his hair, tossing pale strands across his face, catching in the corners of his lips. And for a moment, he looked like he belonged to something wild. Not a guest. Not a ward. But a creature born of the sea garden itself.
"Do you always walk unguarded through strange places?" I asked.
"I wouldn't call the garden strange," he said, smiling faintly. "It's the first place in this castle that feels… alive."
I stepped beside him, gazing down into the waters. The koi swam lazily in figure-eights, glimmering in colours no human dye could mimic. The reflections swirled, distorted, broken.
I muttered, "Most who wander here do so under escort. With permission."
Caelan glanced at me, amused. "Would you have said no?"
"Does it matter?"
"No." He turned fully toward me then, eyes dark in the moonlight. "But it's good to know."
I stared at him. He did not flinch or fidget. He did not cower beneath my shadow the way the council did. And part of me hated that.
Another part wanted to touch that fire and see how long it would burn before it turned to ash in my palm.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," I said, voice quieter than I intended. "Not tonight."
Caelan tilted his head. "Because of what's rising in the deep?"
I went still.
His words should have been impossible. But I had the distinct feeling he said them on purpose.
"I felt it," he said, softer now. "Same way I felt it when you touched the currents earlier. The ocean shifted. Something ancient is moving, and it is getting closer."
"How do you know that?" I demanded.
He looked at me for a long moment. "You asked if I was drawing you out," he said at last. "But maybe it's the sea that's drawing us both."
The scent of the garden suddenly felt heavier. The koi stilled beneath the water as though holding their breath. Caelan reached down, dipped his fingers into the pond, and sent ripples skittering across its surface. "Whatever's coming," he murmured, "it does not care about wards or thrones or your council's fear. It just wants out."
I turned away from the pond, my jaw tense. "I'm aware," I said.
And I was. But hearing it from him unsettled something deep inside me. The garden pulsed gently with power, and I could feel the keyline threads vibrating beneath our feet. "You should return to your quarters," I told him. "Now."
He gave a short bow, mocking, but graceful. "Of course, Your Majesty."
He walked past me barefoot, every step deliberates and when he brushed close, just close enough to feel the heat of him, he whispered: "Do not worry, Morkai. I do not break easily."
Then he was gone, swallowed by the glass corridors and moonlight, and I was left in the garden alone with the koi, the stars, and the slowly churning dread in my blood. Thalia's frustration hit me the moment I stepped into the corridor outside my chambers. It simmered in the air like sparks held just beneath the surface. Her aura was sharp, coiled, a storm barely restrained by duty. I did not even need to see her face to know she was seconds from snapping.
And Lady Nerisca, impeccable as ever, stood precisely where she should not be, framed by the stained-glass archway like a portrait waiting to be burned. Thalia folded her arms and narrowed her eyes the moment I appeared. "She's been loitering," she said through clenched teeth. "I told her you wouldn't—"
"I wasn't loitering," Nerisca snapped, lifting her chin with cold pride. "I was waiting."
"Oh, pardon me," Thalia muttered. "There's such a difference."
The tension between them was deliciously obvious. And exhausting and my steps echoed softly as I walked toward them, trailing sea wind and the weight of everything I had sensed rising from the deep. Nerisca's gaze locked onto me like a hawk spotting movement in still grass.
"I've been waiting for a while," she said crisply, her voice smooth and formal. "I wish to speak with you. Privately, your majesty."
I paused just short of them. Her posture was perfect, and by the sea, she was persistent.
I gave her the briefest look, just enough for my lips to curl. "Too bad I'm tired," I drawled, brushing past them.
"Morkai—"
"Try again tomorrow," I added, already pushing open my chamber door.
The door clicked shut behind me, and silence followed, one heartbeat and two and then—"You will not avoid the topic of your Abyssal Consort forever!" she shouted through the door, her voice laced with fury and frustration.
The words slammed into the air like a wave breaking on jagged rock, and I stilled, Abyssal Consort. A soft breath slipped from my lips, not a sigh. Let them circle, let them wonder. Let them spill poison into wine and call it diplomacy. I turned away from the door, peeled off the coat of my authority, and let the silence of my chambers wrap around me like a second skin. Let them rage. I had deeper things to fear than names and noble whispers, and I had no intention of getting a Consort any time soon, especially now that I had found Caelan.
I spent an hour reading, and after, went to bed and as usual, sleep was elusive as ever, teasing the edge of my thoughts. I lay in the quiet dark of my chambers, the sea pressing against the walls of the Pearl Castle like a living thing, steady, rhythmic, ancient. My body ached from power spent, from tension held too long in my bones. I should have been able to drift off easily.
But the moment I closed my eyes— "Your Majesty…" Caelan's voice, Silken and amused, unapologetically smug.
It was Caelan and I did not flinch. Just opened my eyes and stared at the high, vaulted ceiling where moonlight filtered through translucent glass. "You really must enjoy haunting me," I muttered aloud, though I knew he would hear me without words.
A laugh echoed now in my mind, not in the room. "I do like to keep your nights interesting."
I sighed. "You do that very well. But how in the seven depths are you able to link with me? This mind-to-mind whispering… it should not be possible."
There was a moment of silence, then Caelan's voice came soft, curious, and sincere.
"I have always been able to touch the minds of realm-beings. Hear their thoughts. Surface things. Dreams. Desires. But yours… yours has always been quiet. Cold. Like a sealed gate, and "I never expected you to answer."
I blinked up at the ceiling, silent, and then I closed my eyes. "I've been alone for so long," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "This… link. Your voice. It is like breathing after holding my breath for centuries."
Caelan's laughter rose inside my head again not loud, not mocking. Warm. Giddy. The kind of joy only someone who defies rules for fun could possess.
"Careful, Sovereign. You sound like you enjoy my company."
But my lips curved, faintly and reluctantly. And as Caelan's laughter faded into the deep hum of ocean magic, I let myself drift into sleep with a smile pulling at my mouth for the first time in a very, very long time.