Her Chambers were modest but high up in the Eastern wing — close enough to the war room , yet far from the noble is suites .
It was a political placement , one she understood instantly : important , but not visible .
Trusted but not welcomed .
Just as well .
She unpacked her quills , inks and cipher scrolls in silence .
Her fingers paused briefly on one worn volume — Histories of the Silver Age , a gift from her late mentor .
Then a knock .
A guard .
“The Crown bPrince requests you in the strategy room .
Now .”
Elira is breath caught .
The room was dim when she entered .
War maps unfurled across the table , lit by golden oil lamps .
Caelum stood with his back to her , hands behind him , shoulders tense .
He did not turn .
“Read the courier is Report, ” He said , voice clipped .
“Ther are lies hidden between the lines .
I wanted then rooted out .”
Elira stepped forward , took the scroll .
She read fast , eye scanning the coded language , the rhythms of overformality meant to deceive .
She spoke before thinking .” They are stalling ,”
Caelum turned .
“Elaborate ,” He said .
She met his gaze .
” The envoy from Vaskel .
He pads his words with empty praise .
Always four sentences between every request .
He is hiding something .
Likely their movements near the Eastern border .”
He stepped closer .
Close enough that she could see the thin scar just beneath his left eye .
” Clever ,” He said .
“Most would miss that .”
“I am not most .”
His eyes stayed on her .
“No .
You are not .”
And then , without another word , he handed her another scroll .
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