Chapter Seven: The Price of Thread

Eden woke to the dull ache of a night lived too deeply.

Her head was foggy, her limbs heavy. She didn’t remember falling asleep, only the lingering pulse of music in her ears, and the way that man’s eyes had followed her even after he vanished into the crowd.

A knock at the door.

She blinked, sat up too quickly. Her room spun.

The knock came again—firmer, not impatient, but official.

She was still in her dress. She hadn’t bothered to change last night. Just kicked off her shoes, collapsed on the bed, and closed her eyes like she could stall the sunrise.

But it came anyway.

She opened the door to find Garrick already standing in the shop below, dressed and composed, though his jaw was tense.

A royal guard stood just inside the entrance.

“Eden Briar?” the guard asked.

She nodded, throat dry.

“You’re to come with me. Alone.”

Garrick's brow furrowed slightly. Eden glanced at him—expecting, hoping. Surely, he would come too. Help her. Walk beside her like always.

But he didn’t move.

The silence that followed was thick.

Eden swallowed hard. “Just me?”

The guard didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Eden turned toward the door, took one step into the light—and then stopped.

She looked back.

Garrick stood in the doorway of the shop, arms crossed tight over his chest. Watching. Waiting. His face unreadable, but his eyes—

His eyes said this could be the last time.

She moved before she could stop herself, closing the distance between them in three quick steps. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in the familiar smell of linen and chalk.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything. For giving me a place. A name. For teaching me to sew.”

He didn’t speak for a beat. Then his arms came around her, tight and solid.

“You were always more than a seamstress,” he muttered.

She pulled back slightly to look at him.

“I should’ve asked you for more advice,” she said quietly. “I spent so much time pretending I wasn’t scared.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “You still can’t stitch a proper cuff lining without cursing under your breath.”

That made her laugh—soft and pained.

“I’ll miss you.”

Garrick exhaled and rested a hand briefly against her cheek. “Come back. I’m not training another pair of tiny, nimble fingers.”

The guard cleared his throat.

Eden let go.

And walked away.

She didn’t look back again.

---

The castle was quieter than she remembered. No grand entrances this time. No gowns or royalty. She was led through a side corridor, deeper into the interior, past a row of narrow wooden doors until they stopped at one and opened it.

The room was plain. A bed. A small dresser. A single window that barely let in light. It felt like a servant’s quarters. And now, it was hers.

The door closed behind her.

A minute passed before it reopened.

Cassian entered, flanked by one of his men and a young woman with a tidy braid and calloused hands.

“Eden,” Cassian said with a faint smile. “Glad to see you’ve agreed.”

She held his gaze, silent.

I didn’t agree. Not really, she thought. But she nodded.

“This is Annie,” Cassian continued. “She oversees bedroom maintenance and rotation for castle staff and guests. You’ll be assisting her starting today.”

Eden’s brow furrowed, but she stayed quiet.

“You’ll meet Erec shortly,” Cassian said. “He’s being held in the lower wing, temporarily. You’ll be helping Annie replace the bedding in his chamber. That’s how your introduction begins.”

Eden’s stomach tightened.

“You’re to tell him you were brought to the castle years ago. That you work here. You’re just another servant—an orphan who found her place. No mention of Garrick. No tailoring. Your past is the castle now.”

“And if he doesn’t believe me?” Eden asked.

Cassian shrugged, casually cruel. “Make him.”

She flinched slightly, but nodded.

“For the next month, you’ll stay here,” he continued. “Assist Annie with her rounds. You’ll see Erec every few days. When you’ve gained his trust, we’ll move to the next phase.”

“The escape,” Eden said, voice barely audible.

Cassian nodded. “You’ll both leave—together. He’ll think you’re helping him. In reality, you’ll be helping us. We’ll provide the plan when it’s time.”

Eden’s throat tightened. “And if I can’t get through to him?”

Cassian didn’t answer right away.

He took a step closer.

His expression didn’t shift—not exactly—but his eyes… his eyes did. They flicked down her figure, not crudely, but with something far more calculated. Like he was assessing her again. Measuring risk against value. Weighing the shape of her fear and the fire in her restraint.

“I don’t believe in wasted chances,” he said softly.

But there was no warmth in it. Just certainty. Control. A king used to taking what he wanted.

And Eden felt it—that old feeling from their first meeting, when his voice dipped low and he leaned in close. The way his gaze lingered just a moment too long. That same hunger flickered now, just beneath the surface.

Not just for victory.

For her.

His attention made her feel like a thread stretched taut, like she might unravel if he kept looking at her like that—like she was something rare. Something he had discovered and didn’t plan to let go.

He blinked once, slowly. Then turned to the man beside him, giving a brief nod.

“To Annie now,” he said.

Just like that, he was gone—his coat whispering in his wake, leaving silence and tension in the air behind him.

Eden let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She hadn’t agreed to any of this.

And yet—here she was. A ghost in someone else’s life, holding someone else’s fate in her hands.