Chapter Five – The Accusation

I woke late.

The servants’ bell rang its shrill call for the second time, its sound tearing through the mist of my half‑formed dreams. My eyes flew open, and for one disoriented moment I didn’t recognize the ceiling above me, or the sting of salt and moss still tangled in my hair. Panic surged as I pressed a shaking hand to the side of my bed, brushing away a leaf that had tangled itself deep in my braid. 

Gods. The forest. The shore. The whispering mist that promised belonging. All of it still felt too vivid to be a dream.

I was late. 

If Mistress Tessa found an empty bed, the sting of her cane would not be far behind.

I pulled myself upright, brushing moss from the hem of my shift, and dragged a hand down the length of my tangled hair as I snatched at my skirt and tugged it over shaking legs. My fingers shook as I tightened the worn cord at my waist. The sting of salt still shimmered in the air as I slipped down the stairs and crossed the courtyard at a run.

A mist pressed down upon the grounds, and my breath rose in sharp plumes as I fell into line with the other servants. They were half‑awake, stiff from the morning’s cold, but their gazes sharpened when I came stumbling into place. 

Mistress Tessa didn’t raise her voice when she stopped in front of me. The sting came from her silence — sharp, disapproving, a warning buried deep in the narrowing of her eyes. 

“Kitchen duty,” she said simply. The words felt like a death knell.

I lowered my gaze and forced the words out. “Yes, Mistress.”

My voice came too soft, too hoarse. Too much like the whisper of mist rising from deep water.

"I was safe, for now."

---

I had been washing pot for what seemed like an eternity when I sense someone approaching.

A priestess found me scrubbing pots long after the sun had pulled itself over the hills. 

“The Council demands the Great Hall be dressed for lunch,” she announced sharply, brushing past the door. “You. Come.” as she pointed at me.

I dried my hands down the length of my worn skirt and followed, swallowing down the bitter sting of fatigue and fear. 

The hall was a revelation. New silk banners shimmered like threads of light. The long tables winked with crystal and gold. At the far end, where the air felt heavier, stood Helena. Perfect. Polished. As cold and sharp as the ice that rimmed the mountain passes. 

Every member of the court milled about being served wine and cakes, dressed in beautiful dresses and suits. 

I was too distracted that I bumped right into the high priestess.

"Watch it!" she said with a sneer.

"Polish the crystal goblets as they come out of the kitchen" the high priestess ordered.

I sank to my knees beside the dais with the other girls, crystal goblet clenched in shaking hands. My thoughts were consumed by the events of the night before. The revelations of where I came from who I was. It felt like a dream. Did I dream it?

As kept cleaning, my mind wandered until my mouth opened and a few notes slipped out.

I should have kept silent. Should have kept my gaze down and my voice buried deep where it belonged.

But the sound rose from me like mist rising from a midnight shore. Pure. Soft. An ache pulled forth from somewhere deep within, and I didn’t recognize it until it was too late.

A sound. A whisper of a sound. Not a word, not a lyric, just a vibration that shimmered across the room.

The room fell still.

A wine jug crashed to the floor. A guard swayed where he stood. Another cursed under his breath and shook himself as if waking from a spell. The more and more sound that came out of my mouth, every member of the court became paralyzed and consumed by the notes coming from my lips.

My breath stopped. My hands shook. The sound was gone, but its sting lingered. 

Then came the weight of a gaze — burning gold that cut across the room and found me. 

Caelan. 

The sound felt like a hand pressed upon the threads of the world, and now every thread was pulled tight between us. His stare was sharp enough to draw blood.

As the notes cut off, so did the spell that had descended upon the room.

Helena was the first to speak. Her voice was as sharp as steel. “What just happened?”

“Dark enchantment!” The priestess surged forth, finger shaking as she aimed it toward me. “Witch, seize her!” 

Strong hands surged from nowhere, hauling me to my feet before I could draw breath. The sting of iron came next, burning down to the bone as the cuffs snapped shut around my wrists.

“Take her to the dungeon,” the priestess commanded. 

I knew then fate had finally come for me.