Chapter 10 - The Hollow Distance

  The pace garden was a strange sort of pce in the early morning. Cloaked in mist and dew, it gave the illusion of quiet serenity, though the twisting ivy and thorny blooms suggested something more sinister lurking beneath the beauty. Lucian stepped lightly onto the cobbled path, hands tucked behind his back, drawing in the cool, damp air.

  He hadn’t come for the scenery. He needed to breathe.

  Most mornings were consumed by ink, codes, and the relentless scratch of quills. But today, after what Lilienne had said the other night, he had allowed himself a sliver of stillness. Just a moment to think, to feel, without the weight of parchment and secrets.

  He hadn't expected to find her.

  Solenne Lysarian sat beneath an archway wrapped in creeping vines and pale purple blooms. Her posture was perfect, chin lifted, a small book resting in her p. She wasn’t reading. She was sketching.

  Lucian hesitated. Lilienne’s voice echoed in his mind.

  “No. That might be the solution. If she hates masks, then the one person she might trust is someone too worn down to wear one.”

  Lucian almost turned around. Almost.

  But the morning had already been long, and something about the way the light softened her face, so composed and yet distant, made him stay.

  "You’re very brave," she said, still focused on the page. "To approach without an invitation."

  "I didn’t realize the garden was cimed," he replied softly, offering a hesitant smile.

  "It isn’t. But people like you always find your way into pces uninvited."

  He winced, but kept his voice even. "People like me?"

  She looked up, eyes as sharp as cut gss. "Cipher scribes. Court pets. Loyal to the crown. You look, you listen, and then you report."

  Lucian stepped forward slowly, careful not to intrude too far into her sanctuary. "I came out here to breathe. Not to report. And I saw you sitting alone. That’s all."

  "Then consider yourself dismissed," she murmured, returning her gaze to her sketch.

  His chest tightened. He could walk away. Maybe he should. But Lilienne had been right, he couldn’t always retreat.

  "Do you always assume the worst of everyone?" he asked.

  She paused, tapping her charcoal gently against the page. "No. Just the ones who wear nice boots and carry noble names."

  Lucian chuckled under his breath. "You’ve made your opinion of me clear. But for what it's worth, I don’t believe in this kingdom either."

  That made her look at him again. Her expression wavered, if only briefly. "Yet here you are. Helping it function."

  "Someone has to watch closely to know when it breaks."

  Solenne closed her book. "That sounds noble. Dangerous, too."

  "You think I’m dangerous?"

  She rose, brushing a few petals from her skirts. "I think you don’t know what you are yet. That makes you unpredictable."

  He didn’t answer. She walked past him, trailing the faintest scent of floral oils. As she disappeared into the mist, he felt her parting words settle over him like frost:

  "This pace is a beautiful cage. Don't mistake the gold for kindness."

  —-

  Lilienne, having just stepped out of the library, wandered the pace halls with no clear destination in mind. As if fate had intervened, she spotted Solenne emerging gracefully from the garden, sunlight catching the silvery-blue strands of her hair.

  Lilienne paused for a moment, heart fluttering with hesitation. She didn’t want to waste the opportunity, nor come off too forward. This chance encounter might be the key to closing the quiet distance between them. She took a quiet breath, then began to walk toward her, each step careful, thoughtful.

  Lilienne bowed her head gently to greet Solenne, her voice soft but sincere. “Good day, Lady Solenne.” she said with a faint smile, hoping not to startle her.

  Solenne looked up from her sketchpad, charcoal still between her fingers. She’d been capturing the st light in the garden when the quiet sound of approaching steps made her gnce up. Upon seeing who it was, her expression cooled with practiced ease.

  Another Caelistra.

  Though she had no personal ill will toward Lilienne, and perhaps even a thread of sympathy, Solenne had little desire to entertain nobility outside of duty. Her mother’s words rang in her mind like a mantra: “Do not get involved. Do not speak too much. Do not choose sides. Do not drown.”

  “What luck to start my day,” she murmured under her breath, ced with sarcasm.

  Still, she offered a bow in return, ever graceful, ever poised. “Good day to you too, Lady Lilienne.” Her voice was polite, but distant, a mirror of the walls she’d learned to raise.

  Lilienne offered a small, respectful smile, ignoring the faint chill in Solenne’s tone. She had expected some resistance. Solenne Lysarian was known to keep her distance, even from those with the best intentions. Still, Lilienne took a step closer, her hands lightly csped in front of her.

  “I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said softly, her voice calm, almost tentative. “I noticed you were sketching. You always seem to catch the best light.”

  Her eyes flicked to the page in Solenne’s hand, catching a glimpse of the delicate lines shaping a cluster of garden roses. The strokes were elegant, controlled yet emotive. It reminded Lilienne of the girl herself.

  “I admire your work,” she added, gently. “I used to draw as well, though never quite like that.”

  There was no fttery in her voice, just a quiet sincerity. Lilienne wasn’t trying to force a conversation. She just wanted a start.

  Solenne’s eyes flicked briefly to Lilienne, then down to her sketchpad again. Her pencil moved in calm, deliberate strokes, as though the conversation were only a breeze brushing past her rather than something she intended to engage with.

  “I’m not very good with compliments,” she said, tone light but distant. “They tend to smudge the page.”

  Her words weren’t unkind, just guarded, as though she'd built walls too carefully to let someone in on a mere whim. Still, there was something softer in the way she said it to Lilienne than she would have to anyone else.

  She didn’t look up again, but she didn’t walk away either.

  “I suppose drawing gives me an excuse to be quiet,” she added after a pause. “Most people leave me alone when I have a pencil in hand. It’s convenient.”

  Her meaning was gentle, yet clear.

  Lilienne's smile faltered just slightly, her brows drawing in with a flicker of disappointment. She hadn't expected much, but somehow, Solenne’s cool distance still stung more than she thought it would. Still, she didn’t push. She simply nodded, stepping back with quiet grace.

  “I understand,” she murmured. “I’ll leave you to your drawing then.”

  She turned to walk away, but a quiet thought settled in her chest like a promise.

  “She may keep her walls high, but I’ll try again. I’ll keep trying... until she lets me in.”

  —-

  The lower halls of the pace had always disturbed Lucian. Their stonework was older, darker, less polished, as though the walls had absorbed the centuries of whispered secrets and never let them go. No paintings hung here. No silken drapes softened the hard edges. Just cold torchlight flickering against damp stone and the occasional echo of footsteps that weren't his own. The air clung to his skin. Cmmy, heavy, and thick with forgotten things.

  He hadn’t meant to wander this far, but his feet had carried him here after the garden. He hadn't expected to meet her, he wasn't sure how to approach her yet.

  Lucian sighed, raking a hand through his hair. His conversation with Solenne pyed over and over in his head, each sharp word from her repyed like a quiet rebuke. He had tried, cautiously, genuinely, and still she’d cast him aside like just another polished pawn of the court.

  Why does she hate me so much? he thought bitterly. Because I wear the wrong boots? Because my name carries the wrong weight? Does she not realize that she’s a noble too?

  But even in her dismissal, something had lingered in her eyes. A flicker. Not warmth, not quite, but something that wasn’t disdain either. That was enough to hold onto.

  He leaned against the rough stone wall, arms folded, lost in thought. Maybe she just doesn’t trust easy. Maybe she’s had to build walls too high to let anyone through on a first attempt.

  Lilienne’s advice echoed again: Be honest. Be patient. She’s not cruel, just guarded.

  Lucian exhaled slowly. He’d have to try again. Not with charm or clever words, but with consistency. Maybe she didn’t need another court admirer. Maybe she needed someone who stayed, even when she pushed.

  Lucian’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden crash.

  Turning the corner, he found a maid colpsed on the ground, her tray spilled beside her. Her breathing was shallow, and her hands trembled. Lucian knelt quickly.

  "Are you alright? What happened?"

  She flinched at his voice. "I... I tripped, my lord. Please. I'm fine."

  But as he reached for her hand to help her up, he caught a glimpse beneath her sleeve. Bruises. Circur, patterned, clearly not the result of a fall.

  His jaw tightened. "Who did this?"

  "No one! I swear it, my lord. I was clumsy. It's nothing. Please, don't tell anyone."

  Before Lucian could answer, a new voice cut through the hallway.

  "Is she hurt badly?"

  Ravien.

  The prince walked calmly toward them, robes trailing softly behind him. There was no panic, only control. He knelt beside the girl, his hand brushing her forehead.

  "She's burning up," he said quietly. Then, to the maid, "You’re safe now. We’ll get you to the infirmary. Rest. No one will touch you again."

  The girl began to cry.

  Lucian stood back, unsure what to say.

  Ravien turned to him, his expression quiet, tired. "You have a good eye, Lucian. And a good heart."

  Lucian didn’t respond right away.

  Ravien rose and motioned for a nearby guard to carry the maid. Once she was taken away, he exhaled slowly.

  "The truth is," he said softly, "this kingdom is sick. Deep down. Rotting under its own rules."

  "Then why do you serve it?" Lucian asked.

  Ravien looked at him, unflinching. "Because if I don’t, who will? You see only the surface. The parties, the ws, the smiles. But I see it all. And I can't fix it alone."

  He handed Lucian a small, folded parchment. "This gives you access to some of the old security logs. Read them. But don’t let anyone know you have them. There are ears everywhere."

  Lucian took the parchment, his fingers cold.

  Ravien pced a hand on his shoulder. "I trust you. But be careful. The ones who look for truth often vanish before they find it."

  —-

  Lilienne was seated in the library garden when Lucian found her. Her eyes were still on the

  fountain, though she clearly heard his approach.

  "What have you been up to, Luci?" she asked.

  "Another incident just happened."

  She gnced at him, her expression troubled.

  "Ravien told me he’s trying to stop it.. the pain in this pce. I want to believe him,” Lucian sat beside her, "he gave me access to records and said he trusted me."

  Lilienne nodded slowly. "Then maybe we were wrong about him. Maybe he’s not like the others."

  Lucian looked down at the parchment in his hands. "Maybe."

  But his voice wasn’t quite certain.

  For a moment, there was only the sound of water trickling from the fountain. Then he sighed, folding the edge of the parchment as if it would help ease the tightness in his chest.

  "I saw Solenne this morning," he said quietly.

  Lilienne turned toward him, curious. "You spoke to her?"

  He nodded. "Tried to. She was in the garden, sketching. Alone, as usual. I thought maybe… maybe if I just spoke pinly, she’d see I wasn’t a threat."

  "And?"

  "She told me I was uninvited," he muttered, a wry smile flickering across his face. "Accused me of being the court’s loyal pet. Said I looked, listened, and reported."

  Lilienne winced sympathetically. "That sounds like her."

  "I wanted to expin. That I’m not like the others here. That I don’t believe in this kingdom either, not the way it is now." He shook his head. "She didn’t want to hear it. Said I didn’t know what I was yet. That I’m unpredictable."

  Lilienne studied him carefully. "That unsettled you."

  "It should’ve. But it didn’t." He looked up at the fountain. "It just made me want to prove her wrong.”

  “I saw her today as well,” she said, her voice gentle.

  Lucian looked up from the book he was reading. “Solenne?”

  “Yes,” Lilienne replied, a faint breath escaping her. “Right after I left the library. She had just come from the garden.”

  Lucian’s expression softened knowingly. “And?”

  “I tried to talk to her,” Lilienne continued, gncing down at her hands. “She brushed me off... politely. Cold, but not cruel. I guess I didn’t expect her to suddenly open up, but” she paused, then smiled, “I’m not giving up.”

  Lucian chuckled softly, his eyes warm. “Of course you’re not.”

  “She’s built walls for a reason,” Lilienne added. “But I think... someday, we’ll be able to break through. I’ll try again. Slowly, gently. I don’t want to force it, but I want her to know I’m not just another noble.”

  Lucian gave her a small, proud nod. “You’re not. And if anyone can get through to her, it’s you.”

  —-

  Above the courtyard, behind a half-drawn curtain, Solenne watched.

  Her fingers rested lightly on the window frame, her expression unreadable.

  She had no words. Only a long, quiet stare as she observed Lucian’s expression, no longer sharp with suspicion, but soft with uncertainty.

  He’d changed.

  She didn’t understand why that made her chest feel tight.

  To the small bird perched near the window, she whispered:

  "He’s not what I expected."

  She turned away, leaving the bird chirping behind her.