The snare

SeleneMidnight plans are cleaner than daytime ones. Daylight invites witnesses who ask questions, darkness answers only to the person who moves with a purpose.I sit at my desk with the small vial resting near my ink pot and the glass holds a thin liquid that coats the walls slowly when turned. It smells faintly of bitter almond and poppy, and I know Jorin used something similar on battlefield patients to keep them pliant during stitching. In larger measure, it blurs judgment. In enough measure, it kills.Last night was a trial run, tonight is the real deal. She must go before she gets too valuable. My quill scratches across parchment, each stroke is neat. I use the King’s signature line at the bottom but leave the ink lighter, as if the quill skipped. Enough resemblance, not enough for real scrutiny.Esme.Come to the council antechamber at the turn of midnight.Bring the sealed vial placed under your pillow.Do not speak of this summons.- A.No flourishes, no title. It will be re

Last Updated : 2025-11-12

Under the antechamber

ArdonThe report sits on my desk like a folded thing that won’t lie. The wax is stamped with the guard captain’s signet and the words inside are clumsy, defensive even. They name times wrong and pin the wrong steps to the wrong people. I read it twice, then once more for habit, looking for the tremor in the ink that tells me who leaned on the pen.Someone wrote it for them, of that I’m sure. I stand and fold the paper along its crease until the fibers complain. The hearth throws a small orange across the floor and I drop the note into the brazier and watch it blacken. The heat eats the paper, the curl of smoke moves up the chimney and leaves the room cleaner for a moment.'They lie,' Korrath says. 'The scent of a hand not your own.''I know,' I answer. 'Find the path. Circle the exits.'I grab my cloak. Darian is already in the corridor, waiting with his hand braced on the stair rail. He doesn’t ask why I move, he only falls into step beside me and his boots are soft on the stone. We

Last Updated : 2025-11-14

Private apology

ArdonThe antechamber door closes with a clean sound, no echo and no audience. The morning light shines through the windows, and I know what must be done must be done in private. Darian and Nixton take their positions outside without comment, making sure no one gets good ideas on bad paths. The guards along the corridor adjust their stance when I meet their eyes, they know this room is now sealed for a reason they won’t be told.Inside, Esme stands near the center table, her hands clasped in front of her apron. The lamplight catches the skin at her throat, and a thin line of color rises from her collar to her jaw, bright against her pale skin. She lifts her chin when I face her, not defiant, simply steady. I take off my cloak and lay it across the nearest chair, the room smells faintly of oil and old ink. The poppy from last night is only a bad memory. “I dismissed the others,” I say. Her shoulders stay square. “I saw.” She answers steadily, quiet. I move closer, but not enough to

Last Updated : 2025-11-17

Measures and lines (Part one)

ArdonSmall orders reveal more than grand ones, so I start there.“Deliver this ledger to Maelis,” I tell Esme at first bell the next day, handing her a slim book with the new patrol rosters. “Use the eastern stairs. Do not speak to anyone on the landing.”She answers with one word. “Yes.” I watch the clock on the mantel and the corridor beyond my door. Seven minutes later, she returns, the ledger is gone and a strip of parchment rests in her palm.“Maelis asked for your mark on the addendum,” she says. “She didn’t argue the route. She argued about the timing.”“She would.” I cut my initials where Maelis likes them. “Return it.” She goes and comes back again without excess steps and without the scent of panic that clings to people who run without plan. She breathes steadily when Darian tries to stop her at the landing with a routine check, she says, “The King sent me. I have to make his time,” and waits until he lets her pass. He does and he tells me she held his stare without shaki

Last Updated : 2025-11-19

Measures and lines (part two)

Ardon At midday, I send Esme to the upper gallery with nothing in her hands and no visible duties. The order is simple. “Walk the long arc twice, stop if anyone demands it, I’ll be behind you.”I follow at a distance that allows me to see who approaches her when they think I’m not near. Varick’s attendant tries to block her with a question about linens, she says, “Speak to Marek,” and keeps moving. Thalos’s clerk stands in her path and asks if she will carry a message to the scullery. “I’m not a runner today,” she says and she doesn’t apologize. She doesn’t soften the refusal, she speaks plain.Darian waits near the stairs and checks his watch. “Two circuits,” he says when she completes the second. “Order fulfilled.” She nods and returns to me without asking for praise so I give her work instead.“Bring me the patrol change logs from the west wall,” I say. “And on the way back, stop at the healer’s and confirm his stock of poppy tincture. Make him say the number out loud, write it

Last Updated : 2025-11-21

Eyes in the court

Esme The court changes shape around me. It isn’t sudden, it’s slow, like heat rising from ovens, silent until you notice the sweat on your skin. Faces I don’t know begin turning when I enter a room, a servant that shouldn’t draw attention. A kitchen gir thatl shouldn’t have a name carried ahead of her like a rumor.But they know it now. Esme. No one says it aloud. They don’t have to because it hangs in the air between glances and the turn of shoulders.I carry the morning tray into the council corridor. The dishes rattle against the silver plates, the scent of roasted meat mixes with strong tea and the hall smells of wax, stone, and perfume. Two maids pass and slow just enough to look at me, their eyes flick over my uniform, over the tray, over the space behind me, as if they expect someone to follow.Marla appears at my elbow. She has flour under her nails and a curl stuck to her cheek. She bumps my hip lightly.“Careful,” she mutters. “You’re making the peacocks restless.”“Peacock

Last Updated : 2025-11-24