The Crown He Let Me Steal

The first time I tried to kill King Caelum Daevor, he smiled and thanked me for the wine. Rain battered the palace windows so hard it sounded like the city itself was applauding. Outside, Velrath drowned in a storm, and by morning the lower districts would flood again. Inside, nobles cackled over silver goblets, musicians playing soft enough to hide a whisper, sharp enough to cover a lie. I stood with the other servants, my head down, dressed in black linen and silence. Nobody looked at the wine bearer. That was the trick. Six years I’d spent memorizing the faces of survivors, while my family’s bones turned to ash. Six years collecting rumors. They called him the Hollow King. Monster of Velrath. Murderer and executioner. The man who’d signed the order to kill my family. Tonight, he was going to stop breathing. My fingers tightened around the silver tray. Three goblets left;two for ministers, one for him. The poison under my thumbnail had cost me almost everything. It was a temple toxin, invisible, odorless and painful. That used to feel important. I used to think people like him deserved pain. The royal doors swung open and the room went still. No trumpets, no list of titles. King Caelum slipped inside like a shadow you notice too late. He is tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark robes instead of gold. Black hair brushing the collar of his coat, a streak of silver at his temple. Not age, but curse, they said. His crown was slim iron, twisted cruelly, careless above sharp features. He didn’t look like a monster. Stories made monsters larger. He looked disturbingly human. That unsettled me far more. Every noble dropped their eyes. No one tried to get close. Fear moved through the hall, quiet as fog. He crossed to the raised table, unhurried. His gaze swept across the room looking cold and detached. For one impossible second, his eyes paused on me. His eye colour is grey, almost silver, like the world was frozen in their reflection. My heart stuttered. He looked away. I let my breath go slow. Imagined it. Kings didn’t see servants. Kings saw threats. I was neither a threat or not yet. The feast kept going. Music, laughter, lies. I moved forward, one careful step at a time. I was moving closer. The tray stayed steady, even as my pulse jumped around. One minister took his goblet. A second reached, chuckling. Then it was just the one I set aside for the king remaining. King Caelum sat watching the storm, elbow on dark wood. Surrounded by people, but so obviously alone. I stopped beside his throne. I lowered my eyes. Held out the wine. His hand closed around the stem. He has long fingers, a scar on one knuckle. His hands are not soft but strange, it is what you notice before killing someone. Now. I slid my thumb beneath the rim,quickly and practiced. The poison dissolved, it was gone. Done, I said to myself He lifted the goblet. I stepped back. The world sharpened: every note, every laugh, every drop of rain. I was saying drink, drink, in my mind. His eyes flicked to mine again. My stomach clenched. Slowly, his mouth curved, then he raised the goblet and drank. Relief almost shattered me. It worked. I bowed, slipped away before anyone saw my shaking hands. Ten minutes. That’s how long the poison needed. His lungs would seize, then his blood, then death. I slipped out to the servant corridors, blue lanterns lighting my path. The palace was bigger than I’d ever imagined. There were so many hallways, so many guards but I’d mapped escapes for months. By dawn I’d be gone. By morning, the kingdom would mourn a tyrant and my family, No. Dead people don’t get justice. Only survivors get revenge. I climbed a staircase to an abandoned balcony. The hall stretched below, the king still at his place. I watched from behind the carved stone. Five minutes. A servant whispered in his ear. He nodded, looking unbothered. I checked the time, it has been seven minutes. Nothing had happened to him. Cold started crawling into my chest. The toxin was flawless. I’d watched it kill in minutes. Nine minutes. His hand should’ve been shaking by now, his breathing ragged. Instead, King Caelum lounged back and said something to a duke that made the old man laugh, nervous. It has been ten minutes already. Oh my lifeeeeee, still nothing. My pulse hammered. Impossible. Eleven, twelve minutes. Then, he finished the wine. He looked straight up, right where I hid. All my muscles tensed. He couldn’t really see me up here.The lattice hid the shadows. It had to but his eyes didn’t move. Not even a flicker. Everyone else kept talking, someone argued, someone dropped a fork but suddenly all I saw were those pale eyes, fixed on the balcony. Move, I told myself. I needed to move or run but I couldn’t. I was locked in place, breath held. King Caelum tilted his head, being thoughtful. Studying me like he was confirming. He stood. The room fell silent again. “Enough,” he said. Not loud, but every conversation died. Even the storm seemed to pull back from his voice.He walked down from the throne with his boots echoing. He never looked away from where I was hiding. Fear finally took over me. I wasn’t even panicking cause that was worse. It was something closer to understanding. He knows. My fingers dug into the stone. How? I’d prepared for guards questioning, and a dozen sorts of execution. Not this. He stopped beneath the balcony. Close enough I could see faint silver marks trailing up his throat with curse marks, alive, like veins of moonlight. His face gave away nothing. Then he sighed, looking like he was almost disappointed. His voice rolled through the hall, low and perfectly controlled: “You missed three drops.” The words hit harder than any scream I’d ever heard. Nobody else got it. Everyone looked confused but he kept staring up, right at me. His goblet hung loose from his fingers. “How careless,” he murmured. I stopped breathing. There was no more pretending. No escape route in denial. He knew.Rain thundered outside. Then King Caelum Daevor, the man I’d come to kill, the monster who’d destroyed my life, looked up and said, calm as anything: “Come down, little assassin.” The room froze solid. His eyes went almost silver. “We need to discuss your future.” The tray slipped from my hands, metal ringing on stone and every guard reached for a weapon.