Chapter 11: Whispers of Royalty

Dawn broke over Azureport in ribbons of amber and gold, painting the royal district's white stone buildings in warm hues. Kael adjusted the nondescript brown cloak draped over his messenger's uniform, reviewing his mental preparations. For three days, he had practiced Liora's thread-dampening techniques until they became second nature.

"Remember," Liora had instructed the previous evening, "maintain the dampening at all times. The royal district has the highest concentration of thread-sensitives in the city."

Now, standing before the district's imposing gates, Kael methodically checked his disguise. The messenger's badge pinned to his tunic was genuine, acquired through Liora's Temple connections. His thread signature was muted, pulled close to his body in the tapestry visualization he had mastered. Most importantly, he carried actual messages for delivery—the perfect cover for observing the royal procession.

The security at the district entrance was more oppressive than he had anticipated. Guards in the silver-blue uniforms of House Luminar flanked the massive gates, their eyes unnaturally bright—enhanced with thread-sight enchantments. Above them, detection gates hummed with magical energy, designed to identify unwelcome thread signatures.

Kael joined the line of servants and messengers awaiting entry, keeping his gaze downcast and his breathing even. When his turn came, he presented his badge with the practiced disinterest of someone who performed this task daily.

"Purpose?" the guard demanded, eyes flashing with magical scrutiny.

"Deliveries for the Merchant's Guild representatives," Kael replied, voice pitched to mundane neutrality.

The guard gestured him forward through the detection gate. Kael felt the magical energy wash over him, probing for anomalies. For a terrible moment, something caught—a tendril of detection magic snagging on his hidden thread signature. With careful mental effort, he loosened the threads further, letting them become almost transparent. The tendril retreated, and the guard waved him through with disinterest.

Inside the district, opulence replaced the relative simplicity of Azureport's other quarters. Marble fountains sprayed crystalline water into the air. Arched windows of stained glass depicted the Great Houses' sigils. Thread-lights—magical illumination far more sophisticated than the market's witch-lights—hovered overhead, pulsing with clean, white energy.

Kael made his scheduled deliveries efficiently, positioning himself along the announced route of the royal procession. The crowd thickened as midday approached, nobles and merchants alike jostling for prime viewing positions. Thread barriers separated the onlookers from the road—invisible to normal sight but glowing gold in Kael's perception.

A fanfare of trumpets announced the procession's arrival. Royal guards in ceremonial armor marched in perfect formation, followed by representatives of the Great Houses on horseback. And then, riding a midnight-black steed with eyes like blue flame, came Prince Reins.

Kael's breath caught. In the novel, Reins had been described as brooding and secretive, a reluctant hero hiding his powers. This Prince Reins was different—charismatic and confident, waving to the crowd with an easy smile. Yet something was wrong. Dark threads clung to him like parasites, nearly invisible against his royal attire but unmistakable to Kael's trained sight.

These threads pulsed with sickly energy, occasionally tightening around the prince's wrists and throat when he interacted with certain nobles. Kael focused his perception, tracing the threads backward through the crowd. They led to a hooded figure standing motionless amid the celebratory masses.

As the procession passed directly before Kael, Prince Reins' gaze swept across the crowd. For a heartbeat, their eyes met. Something electric passed between them—a recognition that was impossible yet undeniable. The dark threads around the prince constricted violently, and Reins' face momentarily contorted in pain before his royal composure reasserted itself.

The hooded figure's head snapped toward Kael, as if sensing the interaction. Without conscious thought, Kael deepened his thread dampening, becoming nearly invisible to thread perception. The figure hesitated, then abruptly turned and began moving away from the procession.

Kael followed, maintaining a careful distance. The figure navigated through the crowd with unnatural grace, occasionally glancing back. Twice, Kael had to duck into side alleys to avoid detection. The pursuit led away from the main thoroughfares into the quieter diplomatic quarter, where the embassies of foreign nations maintained their residences.

The hooded figure paused at an intersection, head tilting as if listening. Suddenly, it bolted down a narrow side street. Kael cursed under his breath and followed, rounding the corner to find an empty passage. His quarry had vanished.

A flicker of movement from a balcony above caught his attention. The figure had scaled the wall with inhuman agility and now crouched in conversation with three individuals bearing the thorned rose emblem of House Nightshade on their shoulders.

Kael pressed himself against the wall below, straining to hear.

"—has been complicated," a female voice said. "Someone is interfering with the threads."

"The Observer?" a man asked.

"Possibly. We've had no confirmation since the failed capture attempt."

"It doesn't matter," the hooded figure replied, voice unnaturally resonant. "The project proceeds as planned. Keep the prince occupied until the convergence. The Weaver requires his presence at the ceremony."

"And the other royals?"

"Monitor them as well. The sister especially—she grows suspicious."

Kael's foot dislodged a loose stone. The tiny noise echoed in the quiet street, and conversation above ceased immediately. Heart pounding, he flattened himself in a doorway as the hooded figure peered over the balcony.

"Someone's here," the figure hissed. "Find them!"

Kael abandoned stealth for speed, sprinting back toward the main road. Behind him, he heard the sound of pursuit—feet landing on the cobblestones as the Nightshade agents leapt from the balcony. He rounded a corner and collided with a palace messenger, sending papers flying.

"Sorry!" Kael gasped, helping gather the scattered documents. A particular seal caught his eye—a private communication bearing House Nightshade's emblem. In the confusion, he pocketed it, continuing his escape through increasingly crowded streets.

Only when he was certain he had lost his pursuers did Kael duck into an abandoned storehouse to examine his prize. The sealed message was addressed to someone called "The Conduit"—likely the hooded figure. Carefully breaking the seal, he unfolded the parchment to reveal detailed plans for the upcoming Festival of Lights ceremony, with one name circled repeatedly: Princess Elara, Reins' sister. In the margin, a single note: "Primary target for removal before convergence."

Kael stared in shock. This wasn't just manipulation—it was a planned assassination, an event never mentioned in the novel he had read. The story was already deviating from his knowledge, making his path forward increasingly uncertain.