Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 61 - Chapitre 70

Celeste After my conversation with Edgar, I didn’t waste a second. The moment he was out of sight, I went straight to find Lyra. She was in the servants’ quarters, folding bedsheets with trembling hands. The instant she saw me, she froze, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. “We need to talk,” I said quietly, glancing around. She dropped the sheet and followed me without question. I led her into an empty corridor behind the east wing, the one no one used because it smelled faintly of damp stone and candle wax. “Edgar wants to speak to you,” I said, keeping my voice low. Her eyes went wide, color draining from her face. “M–me? Why?” “He thinks you’re a suspect.” Her breathing hitched. “My lady, I didn’t—” “I know you didn’t,” I cut her off, gripping her shoulders. “But you need to listen carefully to what I’m about to say. Whatever happens in that room, you must not—under any circumstance—reveal your powers. If he finds out, you’ll be dead before the words le

Celeste When we left the interrogation room, I could still feel the weight of Edgar’s presence in the air, heavy and suffocating like smoke that refused to fade. Lyra walked a few steps behind me, her face pale but steady. She did well. Better than I expected, actually. She said all the right things, exactly as we had rehearsed. She trembled only once, when Edgar had leaned forward and asked her how she knew the tunnel existed. But she caught herself before stammering, before letting her thoughts betray her. I was proud, but I did not show it. I could not afford to. When we reached the corridor, Edgar dismissed his guards and gestured for me to wait. The sound of our footsteps echoed against the cold marble floor, the rhythm of authority and submission. He watched Lyra disappear down the hall before turning his gaze on me. “You seemed unusually protective of your servant,” he said. I folded my arms and met his eyes. “She works for me. Her safety reflects my judgment.” He st

Celeste That night, sleep refused to come. The castle felt heavier than usual, as though every wall was listening. Even the wind outside had gone still. It was the kind of silence that made you feel as if something was about to happen, something you couldn’t name yet but could feel in your bones. Lyra had fallen asleep hours ago, her breathing uneven. She was pale, drained from what happened in the interrogation room. When I touched her forehead earlier, her skin was cold, and she’d murmured something under her breath before slipping back into uneasy dreams. I sat by the window, staring at the pale wash of moonlight spilling across the floor. My reflection in the glass looked ghostly—familiar, but not entirely mine. The book on telepathy lay open on my lap, its pages whispering faintly when the wind moved through the cracks in the wall. I should have burned it. But I couldn’t. Not when it might be the only thing that could give me an advantage over Edgar. My mind kept rep

Celeste I woke before dawn. The palace was still, the corridors blanketed in a silence so thick I could hear the slow beat of my own heart. The candlelight flickered across the marble floors as I made my way toward the window. Outside, the horizon bled into shades of muted violet, the kind of morning that looked fragile, like it could shatter if you breathed too loudly. Even the light felt cautious, hesitant to touch the stone walls of this place. It was beautiful, and yet it hummed with an invisible weight. We were supposed to leave today, for our honeymoon. The word still felt foreign on my tongue. Honeymoon. It sounded like something meant for other people. People who laughed freely, who didn’t carry kingdoms and curses on their shoulders. Edgar hadn’t told me where we were going, only that it was “far enough from the noise.” Far enough from the noise. I wondered if he also meant far enough from Lyra, from the books, from the truth that was beginning to stir in the corners

Celeste The sun rose between us like a stranger. The light that crept into the room was thin and pale, the kind that didn’t warm anything it touched. It painted the wooden floorboards in tired gold, but even that looked hesitant, as if the morning itself wasn’t sure it belonged here. I sat at the edge of the bed, my hands resting in my lap, the sheet still rumpled from where Edgar had slept or rather, where he’d lain without sleeping. I wasn’t sure he ever truly did. He was already awake when I opened my eyes. Fully dressed. Composed. His movements were too quiet, too deliberate, like someone who didn’t want to disturb a fragile illusion. “Morning,” I said softly, though the word tasted empty. He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You’re awake.” That was all. Not good morning, not did you sleep well? Just that quiet observation. I nodded, pulling the sheet tighter around my body as though I could build a wall out of it. “You left last night.” He froze for a fraction of a second