Chapter Ten: A Scrap of Truth

The visits became routine.

Every few days, Eden and Annie descended into the stone depths of the castle. Each time, Eden tucked her red curls away beneath the servant’s headwrap. Each time, that one rebellious strand found its way loose again, framing her brow like a secret.

Erec rarely spoke.

He watched.

From his corner, he kept his head low, but his eyes followed her. He noted how long she lingered near the bed, how she folded the sheets, how often she stole glances toward the guard. He was waiting—for what, Eden didn’t know.

And in between those visits, there was Cassian.

He always waited in her chamber, near the window, hands behind his back, like a patient sculptor inspecting his masterpiece. Each meeting was brief, but Cassian used those moments to refocus her, to draw her further in.

He had a way of speaking that made Eden feel chosen. Important. Crucial.

But beneath that charm, she felt it.

The tension in the air when they stood too close. The way his eyes lingered—not just on her face, but on her mouth, her hands, the curve of her throat. Pride, yes. But also something sharp. Something hungry.

She smiled when he praised her. But inside, she counted every breath until the guard opened the door behind her again.

Two weeks passed like that.  Eden worried if anything would change.

---

The cell was cold, as always. Damp. Still.

Annie moved toward the bed while Eden collected the used linens from the stool and corner pallet. She reached for the pillow, fingers curling under its edge, and something rough brushed her knuckles.

She paused.

Tucked just inside the seam, hidden in the stuffing, was a small, torn piece of cloth. Faded red—matching Erec’s worn shirt. She palmed it swiftly, heart pounding, and unfolded it behind her back.

Three words, handwritten in smudged charcoal:

1am rotation.

Eden’s eyes flicked up. Erec was in his corner, motionless.

But his eyes—dark, sunken, watchful—locked on hers.

They held.

She said nothing. He said nothing.

But something passed between them all the same.

Then Annie tugged the blanket off the bed, snapping Eden out of her daze. She blinked and tucked the note into her apron, her gaze darting quickly to the guard.

He hadn’t noticed.

On the way up the stairs, her hands trembled—but her steps were lighter.

She finally had something to report.

---

Cassian stood at the window.

Of course he did.

He turned the moment the door shut behind Eden, his expression sharp with expectation. Her face must have given everything away—her excitement, her discovery.

His smile stretched like a flame catching dry wood.

“You have something,” he said.

Eden stepped forward and pulled the scrap from her apron. “I found it hidden in the pillow stuffing. He must’ve torn it from his shirt.”

Cassian took it gently, studying the writing. He nodded.

“Smart,” he murmured. “We've been watching shifts around that time. He’s trying to speak to you without alerting the guards.”

His gaze flicked up, piercing.

“This is your window. We will give you enough time, with Gaurds close by for your safety.  Get him to trust you."

He crossed to her, his hands rising to her shoulders, firm but almost reverent.

“I’m proud of you,” he said softly. “This is the moment we’ve waited for.”

Eden stood still, heart hammering.

“Remember,” he said, “if he asks questions, tell the truth—just twist the pieces.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping an octave.

“You were an orphan, yes—but found by a servant, not a tailor. Raised in the castle gardens, working with your hands. Use that—what you said before, about delicate fingers. That was good. That was... real.”

His hands slid down her arms slowly, deliberately, until they reached her hands. He lifted one and turned it over, inspecting her palm.

She didn’t pull away, but her breath caught.

Cassian’s expression changed. It wasn’t pride in his eyes anymore.

It was possession.

Like she wasn’t a girl. She was an object—his.

Eden stared straight ahead.

The weight of his fingers on hers was unbearable. And yet, she let him hold them, examine them, like they were tools he had forged.

She was grateful the guard stood in the corner.

But deep down, she knew—if Cassian ever truly decided to take her, no one would stop him.

Still, she didn’t move.

She had something to do.

She was the key.

Even if it cost her everything.

Even if it cost her the last piece of family she had left.