Chapter 6 – The Hollow Prince

  The Capital of Voltherian Kingdom gleamed like a dream painted in gold.

  From the moment Lilienne passed through its towering gates, she felt the weight of its beauty pressing down on her chest. The streets were pristine, the citizens courteous, and the guards stood like polished statues, their steel catching the sun like fire. The Royal Pace of Voltheria rose above them all, its white stone towers brushing the clouds, red banners flowing like whispers in the wind.

  It was everything a kingdom should be.

  And yet, it felt… too perfect.

  Lilienne kept that unease to herself as she walked beside Lucian. A steward, dressed in deep royal hues, escorted them through the pace corridors.

  Lucian was quiet, his sharp eyes flicking across every detail. The guards, the tapestries, the subtle scent of polished marble and dried roses that clung to the air.

  They passed a line of pace staff arranged along the wall. Most stared bnkly ahead, like furniture given breath. But when Lilienne approached, something shifted.

  One maid flinched. Another, older, briefly lifted her gaze.. and went pale.

  A younger footman’s hands trembled as he bowed too quickly, nearly stumbling.

  And then a girl, barely older than Lilienne, locked eyes with her for the briefest second. There was no curiosity in that gaze. Only fear.

  As if Lilienne were the ghost in the hallway.

  Before she could react, the steward shot a sharp gre at the girl, who instantly lowered her head.

  Lilienne’s frown lingered. She turned to look back, but the girl was already gone.

  “Something wrong?” Lucian murmured beside her.

  “No,” she said. “It’s nothing.”

  They were shown to the guest quarters in the eastern wing, vish and quiet, trimmed in gold and ivory. The beds were draped in silk. The mirrors were spotless. A wall of books stood untouched, and Lucian regarded it with a skeptic’s eye.

  “I’ve informed the Crown Prince about your stay,” he muttered. “He offered to make the arrangements himself. You are, after all, a daughter of Caelistra-Veyrath.. but even I didn’t expect them to be this generous.”

  “Maybe they’re trying to be kind.”

  “Maybe,” Lucian echoed, though the suspicion didn’t leave his voice.

  —-

  That evening, the royal court hosted a formal dinner in their honor.

  Crown Prince Ravien Eryx DeLacroix sat at the head of the table. Draped in navy robes trimmed in silver.

  When Lilienne entered the hall, his gaze found her instantly.

  And for a moment, just a flicker, he froze.

  His eyes lingered, not in polite welcome, but in something unreadable. Surprise? Recognition? Curiosity that had long awaited form?

  But then it vanished beneath a gentle smile as he rose to greet them.

  “Lady Lilienne,” he said smoothly, bowing low. “Welcome to the pace. I trust your journey wasn’t too harsh.”

  Lilienne curtsied. “Thank you, Your Highness. Tharelle, and the pace, is breathtaking.”

  “I’m gd it pleased you.” His voice was warm, and yet the way he looked at her, too carefully, too long, made her wonder.

  “Lucian, my friend,” Ravien said warmly as he turned to greet him.

  Lucian bowed, his movements easy, more rexed than Lilienne had expected. “We’re grateful for your generosity, Your Highness.”

  The dinner unfolded with ughter and polished courtesies. Ravien spoke with effortless charm, his questions carrying a warmth that felt almost sincere. He inquired about her life in Caelistra, her interests, her upbringing, but notably, he never once mentioned her father.

  Most would have gnced at her as though searching for General Sirius behind her eyes. Ravien, however, never did.

  It was only when she mentioned him that Ravien paused, his expression momentarily unreadable.

  “I may not recall him well,” he said carefully. “But I’ve heard stories. A proud man, if I remember the name right.”

  Lilienne’s stomach twisted. His words were soft. Respectful. But vague.

  Too vague.

  Lucian was quiet throughout. He listened, observed, as if each gesture and word were a cipher of its own.

  After the meal, as the court dispersed, Ravien approached them again.

  “I’d like to offer you both full access to the pace, though Lucian hardly needs the offer, given his position as a most trusted royal cipher,” he said, voice low and sincere. “There are pces that may interest you, Lady Lilienne, especially given your family’s… roots. Should you need anything, you need only ask.”

  Lilienne smiled politely. “That’s too generous of you, Your Highness.”

  “Please,” Ravien said with a faint smile. “Call me Ravien.”

  His gaze lingered again. As if trying to read her soul without ever asking what he truly wanted to know.

  —-

  Later that night, a knock stirred Lilienne from her sleep.

  She opened the door to find Lucian, expression grim.

  “I found something,” he said.

  She blinked. “You were already searching?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d check the records.”

  From his coat, he pulled a frayed strip of cloth, stained faintly in red.

  “It was wedged behind a cabinet in the lower archives. There was a list of servant assignments next to it. Several names crossed out. Some not repced.”

  “Dismissed?”

  “Maybe. But all within the same month. Quiet removals. No records of where they were sent.”

  Lilienne stared at the cloth. “It could be coincidence.”

  Lucian didn’t respond.

  “I asked a servant boy if he knew what happened. He wouldn’t speak directly, but he said one thing.”

  Lucian looked up.

  “‘Don’t speak of the hollow rooms.’”

  Lilienne felt a chill run down her spine. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t think this pce is as clean as it looks.”

  —-

  The next day, they explored the pace’s lower wings, quiet halls of stone and shadow once used for training guards and storing arms.

  Most of it was locked down. “Abandoned after the war,” the steward had cimed.

  But one door, deep in the lower wing, stood slightly open.

  Lilienne hesitated, then pushed it open.

  The air was heavy. Cold. Dust clung to the walls like ash.

  They stepped in. The hallway swallowed their footsteps in silence.

  Further in, they found a small chamber. The door was locked, but Lucian made short work of it.

  Inside stood a stone chair, bolted to the floor.

  Straps. Metal. Rusted.

  Lilienne couldn’t breathe.

  “Interrogation,” Lucian whispered. “Or worse.”

  There were stains on the floor.

  Blood.

  They left quickly, their silence thick with shared dread.

  Back in the upper halls, Ravien stood near the royal gardens, seemingly waiting for them.

  He smiled.

  “You’ve been exploring,” he said.

  Lilienne nodded, forcing a calm expression. “The pace is… vast.”

  “It is. Many parts are older than the kingdom itself. Some long forgotten.”

  Lucian tested the waters. “There’s history down there. Some of it… unpleasant.”

  Ravien’s smile faltered, just slightly. “That wouldn’t surprise me. Voltheria has had its shadows. But I assure you, whatever darkness once lived here, it has no pce in the present.”

  Lilienne met his gaze. She wanted to believe him.

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so,” Ravien said softly. “And I promise you, Lady Lilienne… I will do everything I can to ensure your stay here is not haunted by ghosts.”

  His voice was velvet. His expression serene.

  She almost believed him.

  But the chair. The cloth. The fear in the servants’ eyes.

  They whispered a different story.

  He straightened slightly, the warmth returning to his voice. “In fact, there will be a royal masquerade ball held here at the pace in three nights’ time. I would be honored if you and Lucian attended as my personal guests. A celebration might help lift the weight of old memories.”

  Lucian offered a light smile. “It would be an honor, Your Highness. I must admit, I haven’t taken a break from my duties in quite some time. It would be a welcome change, and a perfect opportunity for Lily as well, to witness a celebration within the pace walls.”

  Lilienne nodded gently. “I agree. It would be a great honor, Your Highness. I’ve never attended a ball before. Having spent most of my life at the manor, I’m truly looking forward to witnessing such a joyful event beyond its walls.”

  For a brief, blissful moment, the shadows of what she had seen beneath the pace faded from her mind. The invitation stirred something inside her, something long buried beneath years of silence and restraint. She had never once attended a royal ball beyond the confines of the Caelistra-Veyrath manor. The st time she’d stepped foot in the capital for such an occasion, she was a child clinging to her father’s hand. It had been a celebration of unity, a memory now blurred by time, and grief.

  After General Sirius’s death, she never returned to the pace. Not once. She bore too much of his face, his vender hair, his eyes, his proud carriage. The court’s stares and whispers had turned her into a symbol of a house the kingdom no longer dared to name. The blood of Nocthrein was a taboo, a quiet scandal. So she had hidden, far from curious gazes and cruel specution.

  But now, with the crown prince’s offer id gently before her, a flicker of anticipation took root. Perhaps, for once, she could be seen not as a relic of the past, but simply as Lilienne.

  —-

  Later, Lucian stood by the window of her quarters, arms folded, his gaze distant as the evening light filtered through the curtains.

  “He didn’t flinch,” he murmured. “Not once.”

  Seated on the cushioned sofa, Lilienne gently brushed her long, silky vender hair, the strands catching the warm glow of the ntern light as she gnced up. “Maybe he truly knows nothing.”

  “Maybe,” Lucian echoed, though the word held no conviction.

  His voice dropped, thoughtful and cold.

  “But having spent so long at the pace… I’ve seen how he watches. How he listens. How deliberately he moves.”

  He turned, his sharp eyes meeting hers.

  “Something tells me… he always knows.”

  Lilienne paused, her mind catching on the weight of those words. But instead of lingering in the heaviness, she tilted her head, her voice softening with curiosity.

  “Hm… I guess there’s indeed a possibility. He is the Crown Prince, after all,” she said slowly. Then, as if chasing away the unease, her tone shifted, brightened. “Oh! Lucian, have you any idea what happens at masquerade balls?”

  Lucian blinked, caught off guard by her sudden shift, and then smiled faintly, almost a chuckle escaping his lips. There was something oddly endearing about the way she could pivot so quickly from suspicion to wonder.

  He’d always been curious about her, Lilienne Aeris Caelistra. They had been too young to truly know each other before everything changed. After her mother, now Grand Duchess Isalyn, married into House Veyrath, Lilienne had moved into the Veyrath manor. As for Lucian, he had chosen the pace, finding life there more tolerable than enduring his own blood. The Caelistra manor had become unbearable under the shadow of his father, Marquess Elric Theon Caelistra. A man Lucian had long since buried in memory, though the scars he left remained sharp.

  Watching Lilienne now, filled with a rare spark of excitement, he felt a quiet warmth beneath the usual yers of calcution. For all they’d both endured, perhaps this masquerade might be something more than just courtly spectacle.