The princess dream

The Gift of Secrets

Morning sunlight filtered through the high arched windows of the Queen’s solar, catching dust motes that drifted lazily above the polished table. The room smelled faintly of parchment, jasmine, and the soft iron scent of ink the fragrance of rule.

Queen Miriel sat at the head of the table, posture immaculate despite her age, her silver hair coiled like a crown of frost. She read in silence for a moment, her eyes moving steadily over the latest council reports, before speaking without looking up.

“Lady Rowan,” she said, her tone as calm as still water, “what is your assessment of my granddaughter’s progress?”

Lady Alis Rowan the Queen’s long-serving aide, a woman of precise speech and impeccable discretion folded her hands before answering. “Her Highness shows considerable growth, Majesty. She’s learning the structure of council proceedings faster than expected. She listens before she speaks a rare virtue among heirs.”

Miriel allowed herself a faint, almost invisible smile. “She reminds me of her mother, then. Before she ran from all this.”

“Indeed,” Alis said softly. “Though… Jane has a stronger sense of compassion. A dangerous asset in governance, but a useful one if guided correctly.”

Miriel’s gaze lifted from the papers. “Compassion becomes dangerous when it outweighs caution. Still, she will need it if she’s to win the hearts her title cannot.”

There was a pause. The only sound was the steady ticking of the crystal clock on the mantel.

Then Alis hesitated rare for her. “Majesty, there is… another matter. One I wouldn’t bring to you if it weren’t spreading among the lesser courtiers.”

Miriel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Go on.”

“Rumors,” Alis said carefully. “About the Princess and Captain Wren. That they’ve grown… close. Too close, perhaps, for propriety.”

The Queen’s expression didn’t change at first. Then she exhaled slow, deliberate and set down her pen. “People in this palace will gossip about anything that moves,” she said. “Jane is young. Daniel is devoted. Their friendship is not a scandal.”

“I agree, Majesty,” Alis replied. “But perception, as you’ve often said, is the quieter truth that destroys louder ones. The court sees what it wishes to see.”

Miriel rose from her chair, walking to the window. Beyond the glass, the capital shimmered in morning light proud and fragile. “Daniel Wren’s father served my husband before he was crowned. His loyalty is not a question. Nor is his integrity.”

“Even so,” Alis ventured, “the girl’s heart may not obey protocol as easily as her mind.”

The Queen’s reflection looked back at her regal, still, and unreadable. “No heart does. That is why we teach them restraint. And that is why I trust Daniel to remember his oath.”

She turned then, her gaze finding Alis. “Keep your ears open. If the whispers grow teeth, I will need to know who sharpened them.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

Miriel’s voice softened, barely. “Jane will inherit a kingdom divided by memory and ambition. She must learn to be steel wrapped in silk — gentle enough to heal, unyielding enough to endure. Tell her that in your next lesson.”

Alis bowed. “As you wish.”

The Queen lingered by the window as Alis withdrew, her eyes drifting toward the far gardens where Jane often walked with Daniel at her side. For a moment, her stern mask faltered just slightly revealing something like worry, or love, or both.

Then, as the doors closed behind her aide, Queen Miriel whispered to the empty room,

“Do not fail her, Daniel. I have lost enough already.”

Selene Vael had always said that information was a finer weapon than any blade. It cut cleaner, and it drew no blood until you wanted it to.

That morning, she sat in the shade of the rose veranda a place meant for leisure but long used for listening. Courtiers passed by, their silks whispering, their conversations half-hidden beneath polite laughter. She smiled faintly, sipping her tea, as her informant slipped quietly into the seat beside her.

“She’s planning to leave again,” the young maid whispered, eyes darting nervously. “Tonight or tomorrow. With Captain Wren. They’ve spoken to someone from the outer patrols.”

Selene’s cup paused mid-air. “And where would they be going?”

The girl hesitated. “I heard… the name Dominic.”

Selene’s smile returned, slow and deliberate. “Ah,” she breathed, setting the cup down gently. “The rebellion’s ghost.”

For a long moment she said nothing, watching sunlight catch the rim of her cup. Then she leaned back, voice almost affectionate. “You’ve done well. Discretion will be rewarded, as always.”

The maid curtsied quickly and slipped away, her small coin purse already heavier.

Selene waited until the courtyard had emptied before standing. Her movements were unhurried, graceful but inside, her mind was aflame with calculation.

If Jane truly meant to meet the Dominic faction, it was more than youthful rebellion. It was treason. And treason, Selene knew, didn’t need to be proven only believed.

By the time she reached the Queen’s audience chamber, her story was perfectly measured every word polished to glimmer with sincerity.

Queen Miriel sat by the hearth, reviewing documents when Selene entered. The Queen did not look up immediately, only said, “You may speak, Lady Vael.”

“Your Majesty,” Selene began with a tone of restrained urgency, “I would never dare disturb you with rumor, but I fear something serious is unfolding and it concerns your granddaughter.”

That caught Miriel’s attention. Her pen stilled. “Go on.”

Selene clasped her hands together, lowering her gaze just enough to appear humble. “It seems Her Highness has been seen arranging private meetings with Captain Wren not here, but beyond the walls. There are whispers she intends to meet… members of Dominic’s faction.”

The Queen’s expression didn’t shift, but the air in the chamber changed quiet and taut.

“Who told you this?” Miriel asked, voice even.

“A servant from the western patrol corridor, Majesty. She overheard their discussion. It appears this is not the first time they’ve gone beyond the palace.”

Miriel leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly not in disbelief, but thought. “Daniel Wren would never endanger her.”

“Of course not,” Selene said quickly, her tone syrup-smooth. “I am certain his intentions are loyal. But the appearance of impropriety, Majesty especially with the council already watching Jane’s movements so closely could harm her before she ever ascends.”

Miriel looked toward the window, silent for a long while. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but dangerous. “If what you say is true, Selene, she has been reckless. But if what you say is false”

Selene lowered her head in a perfect bow. “Then may my name be forgotten from your court, Your Majesty. But I only wish to protect the realm and the future of the crown.”

The Queen’s gaze lingered on her long enough for silence to sting. “Leave it with me,” she said at last.

Selene curtsied and withdrew, her heart beating steady and satisfied.

As she crossed the marble hall, she allowed herself the smallest of smiles. She did not need to lie outright; she only had to place truth in the right light and let it cast its own shadow.

That evening, as the bells tolled across Eryndale, word spread quietly through the corridors:

The Queen had summoned Captain Daniel Wren.