The throne room of Camelot gleamed with light, yet it had never felt darker to Aelyn. Golden chandeliers hang from the ceiling like frozen sunlight, their candles casting a soft glow on tapestries woven from the finest silks. Knights clinked goblets and bowed low before Queen Gwinifyre, their smiles as sharp and polished as their swords. Crown Prince Callum stood tall beside her, already practiced in holding a crowd with presence alone. And somewhere near the back, neatly dressed and perfectly still, sat Aelyn Dulace, the second prince, unacknowledged, always expected to be seen and never heard.
Aelyn's hands rested in his lap, fingers interlaced with the stiff discipline of someone taught to sit still before he could run. The velvet of his tunic itched beneath the weight of expectation, its beautifully stitched embroidery little more than a costume draped on a stranger. He watched as courtiers circled Callum like moths to flame, laughing, flattering, always looking upward. No one looked his way. Not even the Queen.
Despite the polished boots and silver trim, Aelyn looked more like a shadow of royalty than a prince. His blonde hair had been combed into neat obedience, though one pale strand always slipped free to fall across his deep blue eyes. Whereas Callum's dark hair and sculpted presence commanded attention, Aelyn seemed carved from a gentler mold. He was fair and fine-boned, with a quiet stillness that made it easy to overlook him. At ten, he had already mastered the art of being invisible.
Oblivious to the world around him, just as it was to him, Aelyn didn't even notice when the court began to empty. Queen Gwinifyre and Callum had already swept out, followed by a tide of lords and ladies, their laughter echoing down the marble halls. No one had told Aelyn what the gathering was for—only that he was to let the servants dress him and not cause a fuss.
It wasn't for him. That much was obvious. And no one would notice if he slipped away.
He rose quietly and stepped into the long corridor outside the throne room, catching a glimpse of the last few guests vanishing around a far corner. He glanced up at the guards flanking the doors, but neither spared him a look.
I guess I'll just go the other way. Out of sight, out of mind. As always.
As he moved through the winding halls, a few more guards passed him by. Some gave him a curt nod—nothing more. At least the kitchen staff were kind. One of the older servants pressed a warm piece of bread into his hand as he walked by. They were his favorite. They were the only ones who ever treated him kindly.
He continued deeper into the castle, turning through unused wings where even the air felt forgotten. The torches weren't lit, and dust coated the walls. No servants cleaned this part of the castle, and the Queen avoided it like it was cursed. Which, as far as Aelyn was concerned, made it the perfect place to be alone.
He'd explored it before. Many times. He couldn't remember how he'd first found it—only that something had pulled him here, a feeling he couldn't explain. Not that anyone would believe him if he said so. If he told his mother something was calling to him, she'd probably have him locked away.
Eventually, he came to a familiar door—its heavy wood cracked, parts of it hacked by a sword, and the lock smashed long ago. It was too heavy to move, but he could slip through the narrow gap along the edge. He pressed his back to the stone and edged through sideways until he stumbled inside.
He exhaled slowly. He hadn't even realized he was holding his breath.
There was always the fear that his mother would find this place and have it destroyed. He didn't know why—only that she had a habit of taking away anything that brought him joy. Moonlight flowed in from cracks in the ceilings and walls, granting the secluded garden a mystical and almost ethereal feeling to it.
The garden had long since gone wild. Ivy curled around toppled statues, and moss crept up the roots of trees that had once been pruned into perfect shapes. Aelyn stepped lightly between the cracks in the stone path, careful not to crush the tiny flowers that had dared to bloom through the ruin. Here, in this forgotten corner of Camelot, the silence felt different—less like neglect, more like peace.
His eyes searched the walls until they landed on a simple straw broom, tucked beside a broken archway. He'd borrowed it from the kitchens weeks ago, and since no one had come looking for it, he doubted it had been missed.
Crossing the garden, Aelyn picked up the broom and began his quiet, self-assigned chore. He swept gently at the broken cobblestones, pausing now and then to brush moss from the low walls and corners he could reach. There was comfort in the motion. A small defiance in caring for something the world had forgotten.
Callum had grown used to the weight of eyes. Courtiers, knights, foreign emissaries—they all watched him as if waiting for cracks to form. So he gave them none. He stood tall beside the throne, hands clasped behind his back, chin high, every breath measured. The perfect prince. The rightful heir.
But now, with the feast dwindling and the throne room mostly cleared, he finally let his posture ease. Just slightly. Enough to feel the ache in his spine.
"You should have stayed by her side," murmured a voice behind him—one of the queen's ladies, more shadow than woman in the dim torchlight.
Callum didn't turn to look. He simply nodded, as expected. "She didn't need me."
Not tonight. Not with all of Camelot groveling at her feet. What he did notice, though, was the absence of his shadow—Aelyn. Looking down and behind him, he had to wonder just how long Aelyn had been missing. Looking at the multitude of adults that surrounded his mother and himself, it seemed like he was the only one to notice the smaller boy's disappearance. Should he call attention to it? No. That would only get Aelyn into trouble of some sort. It would be best to find his younger brother after the event had drawn to a close. It shouldn't be much longer until he was dismissed for the night and left to his own devices. This whole thing was all just a way for his mother to show off to the nobility. Nothing of any import ever seemed to happen at these monthly gatherings of hers. It was all just a dance of words and faces, especially now that they neared the main ballroom.
The ballroom was flawless, as always. Sunlight spilled through towering windows, catching on crystal chandeliers and polished marble, bathing everything in gold. The royal banners hung just right, their deep crimson edges unmoving in the still air. It was the kind of place people whispered about, wide-eyed, like walking through legend. But to Callum, it all felt staged. Too clean. Too perfect. A room built for appearances, not people. Every step echoed like a line delivered, every smile a performance. He knew how to wear the mask the room demanded—but he also knew the stone beneath the glamour was cold.
"–llum."
He sighed, a little too audibly, as his name was called from ahead.
"Yes, Mother—"
He caught himself. "I mean, Your Highness."
A slip. One he shouldn't have made. He knew better than to use familiar words in front of others.
The pause lingered. Gwinifyre's gaze swept the hall as if she hadn't heard, though he knew she had. A smile touched her lips, thin as a blade.
"Careless, Callum," she murmured once the courtiers were far enough not to overhear. "You'll learn."
Heat pricked the back of his neck. He bowed his head the way she liked, an apology without words.
"Your brother," she continued, shifting her attention toward the doors. "He's gone again."
Callum hesitated. "He… slips away when it grows too crowded."
"As if he were not born to stand in it." Her tone cut, sharp but quiet. "You will find him. Keep him with you. If he cannot learn to endure, he will learn to fear the cost of absence."
"Yes, Your Highness."
She turned her eyes back to the room, already finished with him. Callum lingered a moment longer, then stepped aside, jaw set. He would find Aelyn, but not to scold him. He would find him to make sure no one else did first.
Aelyn swept until the stones showed pale beneath the moss. The broom rasped, steady and soft, each stroke smoothing the restlessness in his chest. He paused to brush dirt from the bench with his sleeve before sitting. It was cool and uneven, but here he could breathe.
He glanced at the broken arch where ivy tangled like green rope. It hadn't been touched in years. That was why he liked it. In the silence, he wasn't a Dulace. He wasn't anything the court demanded. He was only a boy with dust on his hands and a secret place that was his alone.
A scuff of stone broke the quiet. Aelyn stilled.
Someone was coming.
He slipped to the doorway, holding his breath as a shadow fell across the gap. For an instant, panic gripped him—then a head of messy brown hair poked through.
A boy, a little taller than him, with flour on his sleeve and a basket hooked over one arm. His eyes went wide when he saw Aelyn.
"Oh," the boy said. Not bowing. Not startled. Just… surprised. "Didn't think anyone was in here."
Aelyn blinked. His voice came out smaller than he meant. "I am."
The boy shifted, glancing past him to the garden. "It's… nice." He lifted the basket a little. "I was sent for mint. Found the door by accident."
"If you need mint," Aelyn said, stepping aside, "it grows along the wall."
The boy hesitated, then slipped in. He crouched near the stones, plucking a few sprigs. The scent of crushed leaves carried on the air.
"I'm Charlie," he said, tucking the mint into his basket. "My dad sells grain in the market. Sometimes I help in the kitchens. They don't chase me off if I'm useful."
"Aelyn," he replied before he could think better of it.
Charlie didn't bow. Didn't even flinch at the name. He just smiled—quick and easy. "Good to meet you, Aelyn."
Charlie set the basket down and sat on the low wall beside the mint, swinging his legs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Aelyn stayed on the bench, uncertain. No one ever lingered with him.
"What do you do here?" Charlie asked.
Aelyn glanced at the broom still leaning against the arch. "I sweep."
Charlie tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because no one else will." He looked down at his hands. Dust streaked the lines of his palms. "If I don't, the garden disappears."
Charlie studied him a moment, then grinned. "That's not nothing. Looks better than half the courtyards they bother to clean."
The words warmed Aelyn in a way he didn't expect. He let out a quiet breath and found himself asking, "Do you like the kitchens?"
"Most days," Charlie said. "Sometimes I burn things. But when I don't, the cooks sneak me a bite. Bread's better when you earn it."
Aelyn almost smiled. Almost. "The servants give me bread, too."
"Then we've got that in common."
Silence fell between them, but not the heavy kind Aelyn knew too well. This was lighter. Easier. The garden didn't feel so large with someone else in it.
Charlie leaned forward, brushing crumbs of dirt from his hands. "Do you come here a lot?"
"Yes." Aelyn hesitated, then admitted, "It's the only place I feel like I can breathe."
Charlie nodded, as though he understood exactly what that meant. "Then you should keep it. Places like this don't stay secret for long."
Aelyn opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of boots on stone cut through the air. Firm. Measured. Guards.
Charlie's eyes darted to the door. Without waiting, he grabbed Aelyn's wrist and tugged him toward the far wall. "Not that way. Come on."
Aelyn's heart thudded in his chest. "Where—?"
"There's a gap," Charlie whispered. He shoved the basket through a narrow break between two fallen stones, then slipped after it.
Aelyn followed, pressing himself sideways until the wall spat him out into a dark undercellar. The air smelled of damp wood and coal. Above them, the boots passed, steady and close.
Charlie crouched low, motioning for him to stay quiet. They waited until the steps faded. Only then did he stand, brushing dirt from his sleeve with a grin that looked far too calm.
"See? Easy."
Aelyn stared at him, still catching his breath. "How did you know that way was here?"
Charlie shrugged. "I get lost a lot. And I don't like being found."
For the first time all day, Aelyn felt the corner of his mouth lift. Just slightly.
They slipped through the cellar, pushing out near the kitchens where the noise of pots and laughter covered their escape. Charlie stopped at the edge of the garden path, adjusting the basket on his arm.
"You'll be safe if you go up the west stairs," he said. "No one will ask questions."
Aelyn nodded. He hesitated, then asked, "Will I see you again?"
Charlie's grin softened. "Tomorrow. Bring that broom. I'll bring bread."
And before Aelyn could answer, Charlie was gone, swallowed back into the noise and light.
Aelyn lingered a moment longer. He touched the dust still clinging to his hands and let himself smile, just once, before turning toward the stairs.
The west corridor was quieter now. Torches burned low, shadows stretching long across the stone. He climbed slowly, schooling his face back into the stillness expected of him. The sound of voices reached him before the landing — the measured cadence of guards, and another, steadier stride he knew well.
Callum appeared at the top of the stairs, two knights at his back. His posture was sharp again, every line of him carrying the weight their mother demanded, but when his eyes found Aelyn, something eased in his shoulders.
"There you are," Callum said. Too quick, too relieved. He cleared his throat and added more evenly, "You missed the end of the audience."
"I'm sorry," Aelyn murmured, gaze lowered.
Callum dismissed the guards with a flick of his hand. They bowed and stepped back, leaving the brothers in the half-lit hall. For a moment, silence pressed between them.
"You shouldn't wander," Callum said at last. His voice was quiet, not scolding. "She'll notice one day."
"I know."
Callum studied him a long moment, then reached out as if to rest a hand on Aelyn's shoulder. He stopped short, fingers curling against his palm, and let them fall back to his side.
"Stay close to me next time," he said. "It will be easier that way."
Aelyn only nodded.
Callum turned, his cape brushing the stone as he walked away. Aelyn followed a step behind, small and silent in the long shadow he cast.