Semua Bab Woven In The Arms Of The Enemy: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Eden kept her head lowered, needle threaded, hovering just above the waistline of Seraphine’s gown as heavy bootsteps echoed across the chamber floor. More followed—measured, deliberate. The kind that belonged to men used to being obeyed. She didn’t look up. She’d seen King Cassian before—on parade days, painted in portraits, polished and composed. Always the image of royal restraint. But this wasn’t that man. He entered like a storm barely contained. His dark hair was tousled, his jaw clenched, the collar of his deep blue tunic loose enough to reveal the edge of a thin scar. Even the crimson embroidery along his chest looked disrupted—off-center, like he’d dressed in anger. And his eyes—usually calm in every public image—burned. Eden’s breath caught. Cassian swept past her and Garrick without a glance, heading straight for Seraphine. One of his guards leaned in and whispered something. Cassian’s brow twitched. The guard stepped back. He turned to Seraphine. “Your engagement

Cassian turned from Garrick to Seraphine. “Leave us.”She blinked. “Excuse me?”“I need a word with your tailor’s apprentice. Alone.”Seraphine’s jaw tensed, but she caught the look in Cassian’s eyes—impatient, immovable. She crossed her arms, her expression sharpening.“The dress still needs to be finished,” she said coolly. “It has to be perfect today.”“It will be,” Cassian replied, not even glancing her way.Seraphine held his gaze for a beat longer, then exhaled through her nose and retreats with an audible growl, silks snapping behind her like a closing curtain. Garrick lingered, eyes flicking between Cassian and Eden, uncertainty etched into every line of his face.Eden gave him a small nod.He gave nothing back but a clenched jaw before following Seraphine out.The doors closed behind them with a hollow, final thud.Only one guard remained, stationed by the door, expression unreadable.Cassian didn’t speak at first. He paced slowly, as if gathering his thoughts, then turned to

The shop closed early.Garrick didn’t explain, and Eden didn’t ask. The silence between them had grown thick in the days since the summons—respectful, restrained, heavy with all the things neither of them could bear to voice aloud.So Eden filled the silence with fabric.She spent the days hunched over her desk, letting thread and needle pull her out of her thoughts. She didn’t ask for help. Didn’t let Garrick see the sketches. The design had lived in her mind long before the palace, but only now had it taken form—stitched in midnight silk, low-backed, and just daring enough to feel like armor.Tonight, it was finished.And now, as she stood before the mirror in her small room above the shop, Eden wasn’t sure if she should wear it… or take it off and hide.Her friends had invited her to a masquerade—one last night out. They didn’t know what tomorrow meant for her.She could stay.She could pretend she never finished the dress. Pretend she wasn’t curious about the edge of her own boldn

The days blurred together for servants in the castle. There were no clocks, no structured shifts—only rooms to scrub, sheets to fold, and footsteps to memorize. Eden had learned quickly to keep her pace steady, her eyes low, and her mouth mostly shut.Annie, for her part, was efficient and quiet. She didn’t ask questions Eden couldn’t answer, and Eden didn’t press for details Annie wouldn’t give. They worked side by side in the early hours, rotating bedding through sleeping quarters, polishing brass door fixtures, hauling buckets from one wing to another.And then, on the third day, Annie paused at the stairwell that led underground.Eden already knew what it meant.Her breath caught as she tucked her hair under the linen headwrap, fingers fumbling more than usual. Only a single strand slipped loose, hanging just above her brow. It refused to stay put, no matter how tightly she tied the cloth.She followed Annie without a word, their footsteps echoing against the stone stairwell as th

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