Forged in lies

The Calm Before

The two days before the Sunset Festival were the longest of Caius’s life.

The palace was a hive of noise and motion. Banners of deep purple and gold were hung from every balcony. The smell of roasting meat and baking bread filled the air from the giant kitchens. Musicians practiced in the courtyards. It was supposed to be a time of joy.

For Caius, it was a prison of tension.

He performed his duties like a machine. He stood guard. He walked patrols. He attended the final security briefings in the Map Room. Captain Valerius was everywhere, a picture of calm control. He praised the thorough plans. He nodded at Caius’s suggestions. It was all normal. It was all a lie.

Kaelen was always nearby. Silent. Watching. Caius wondered if Kaelen suspected about the tunnel. If he had seen something. But the man’s face showed nothing.

The hardest part was being near Selene. She played her role perfectly. She reviewed the festival schedule with her ministers. She smiled at servants. She was the gracious ruler, excited for the celebration. But sometimes, in a quiet moment when their eyes met, Caius saw the fear beneath the mask. The shared secret was a live wire between them.

The day before the festival, Valerius called a final muster of the personal guard in the Iron Reach armory. The men stood in perfect rows, armor polished, faces serious.

Valerius walked before them. “Tomorrow, the eyes of the empire are upon us,” he said, his voice ringing in the stone room. “We protect more than a person. We protect the symbol of our nation. We protect stability. Order.” He stopped in front of Caius’s row. “Some of you have proven your loyalty beyond question. Sergeant Caius, your return to duty, your vigilance, has been noted. You will have the post of highest honor tomorrow. You will stand on the high balcony itself, at the Imperatrix’s right hand.”

It was the post he had described in Caius’s memory. The hero, front and center, to catch the falling ruler. To remove the evidence.

Caius saluted, fist to chest. “Thank you, Captain. The honor is mine.” The words tasted like poison.

“Good,” Valerius said, a fatherly smile on his face. He placed a hand on Caius’s shoulder. The grip was firm. Possessive. “I know you will not fail.”

After the muster, Valerius held him back. The others filed out. Soon, it was just the two of them in the echoing armory.

“Walk with me, Caius,” Valerius said.

They walked out into a secluded interior courtyard. A small fountain trickled. It was a peaceful spot.

“I want you to know,” Valerius began, his tone conversational, “that I am proud of you. The man you have become since your… accident. The confusion, the fear—you have risen above it. You have clung to your duty. That is the mark of a true soldier.”

“Duty is all I have, Captain,” Caius said, staring at the flowing water.

“Is it?” Valerius asked softly. “I see the way you look at her.”

Caius’s blood froze. He kept his face still.

“It is natural,” Valerius continued, as if discussing the weather. “She is young. She has a certain light. And you are her protector. It is a powerful fantasy. But it is just that—a fantasy. She is the Imperatrix. You are a tool in her hand. A useful one, but a tool. When this festival is over, things will change. The empire will enter a new, stronger era. And loyal tools will be rewarded.”

He was speaking in code. He was offering Caius a future after the murder. A reward for playing his part.

“What kind of era?” Caius asked, playing dumb.

“An era without weakness,” Valerius said, his eyes hardening. “Where decisions are made from strength, not from soft heart. Remember the lessons I taught you, Caius. The surgeon’s knife is cruel, but it saves the patient.” He looked at the sky. “Tomorrow, at the third bell, remember who you are. Remember what we built.”

He patted Caius’s shoulder again and walked away.

Caius stood by the fountain, his hands clenched. Every instinct screamed to run, to shout the truth. But he was trapped. He had to see it through.

That night, sleep was impossible. He lay on his bunk, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. He thought about the launcher in the dark, pointed at a wall. He thought about the third bell chime. He thought about Selene’s face.

He got up. He could not stay still.

He walked the quiet halls. He found himself, without planning, outside the door to the Imperatrix’s private library. A light shone under the door. He knew the two guards on night duty here. He nodded to them. “I’m on Captain’s orders. Final security check.”

They nodded back, used to his presence.

He opened the door and slipped inside.

The room was warm, filled with the smell of old paper and beeswax. Selene sat in a pool of lamp light by the window, a book open but unread on her lap. She looked up, startled, then relaxed when she saw it was him.

“You should not be here,” she whispered. But she did not sound angry.

“I know,” he whispered back. “I couldn’t stay away.”

She closed the book. “I cannot read. I see the words, but they mean nothing. All I hear is the bell.”

“The launcher is turned,” he said, needing to say it aloud. “It will fire at stone.”

“And if he has another plan? A second weapon?”

“Then I will be at your right hand,” Caius said. The promise came from a place deeper than duty. “I will stop it.”

She stood and walked to the window, looking out at the dark city dotted with lights. “When I was a girl, I loved the Sunset Festival. The noise. The colors. The feeling that the whole empire was together. Now, it feels like a giant target painted on my back.”

He walked to stand beside her, not too close. “After tomorrow… if we succeed… what then?”

“Then we arrest Valerius. We expose Echo. We try to rebuild.” She looked at him. Her stormy eyes were full of a deep sadness. “And you will be a hero. Again. For real this time.”

“I don’t want to be a hero,” he said, the truth spilling out. “I just want…”

He stopped. The words were too dangerous.

“What?” she asked, her voice barely a breath.

“I just want to know that you are safe,” he finished lamely.

She turned to face him. The space between them was inches. He could see the gold flecks in her grey eyes. He could see the pulse beating in her throat.

“Before all this,” she said, “before you lost your memory… did we ever speak? Really speak?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I have a memory… of your laugh. In the garden. It stopped me in my tracks. It made me pick a flower I had no right to touch.”

A small, sad smile touched her lips. “I remember that day. I felt someone watching. It didn’t feel dangerous. It felt… sad. I thought it was a ghost.” She looked down. “Perhaps it was.”

“Selene,” he said, using her name for the first time. It felt both forbidden and right.

She looked up, startled by the sound.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “no matter what happens, I need you to know. The man I am now… he is yours. Completely.”

It was as close to a declaration as he could make. He was a traitor, a weapon, a man with bloody hands. He had nothing to offer but his life.

Tears shone in her eyes, but she did not let them fall. She reached out. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand, a touch so light it was like a whisper. A current shot through him.

“Then I am safe,” she said softly.

A sound came from the hall—a cough, a boot shifting. The real world rushed back in.

Caius stepped back. The moment broke. “I have to go.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “Be careful tomorrow, Caius.”

“You too.”

He left her standing in the lamplight, a lonely figure surrounded by books and shadows. He walked back to the empty, echoing barracks. But her touch, the ghost of it on his skin, stayed with him. It was a talisman. A reason to live through the coming storm.