The Rumors & The Queen

After that incident, Lucian was almost always with Caelan — save for the hours he spent in his lessons, or the rare times Caelan was summoned for urgent meetings with Prince August and the council.

And as it always happened in places thick with velvet curtains and thin walls—

The whispers began.

And oh, how they spread.

A servant girl whispered to her companion as they passed quietly through the eastern corridor, arms full of folded linen.

"Have you heard?"

Her companion blinked. "What?"

"The young prince is calling Sir Grey father."

The companion gasped, nearly dropping the stack in her arms. "He has been calling him that for a while now, hasn't he?"

They turned the corner—but not before their voices reached a nearby parlor.

A lady-in-waiting straightened from where she was trimming dead petals from the vase.

She turned her head sharply and whispered behind her fan to her fellow lady-in-waiting, eyes wide.

"Have you noticed how they somehow look alike?"

"I know, right?"

Their voices dropped to a dangerous hush, leaning in over the low table between them.

"You don't think he's actually the father of the second prince…" the first lady-in-waiting said, pressing a hand to her chest with visible alarm.

"That's something dangerous to say! Watch what you say in this place!!" the second hissed, glancing toward the door in panic.

"You're right… but still…"

"I know what you mean…"

Meanwhile, deeper inside the servants' wing, a butler passed a steaming kettle to a kitchen maid, leaning in under his breath with furrowed brows.

"You don't think Sir Grey is— you know—do you?"

The maid shook her head quickly, eyes darting. "Don't even finish that sentence."

The butler raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it loud enough," she shot back, nearly burning herself on the kettle.

"But think about it," the butler murmured again, "he always holds the boy like he was born to. And that hair—they're both blond, and the shape of the eyes—"

The maid smacked his arm with a rag. "Shut up, you fool! If someone hears, we'll both be scrubbing chamber pots for life!"

And yet—

Just one hallway over, a group of maids folding sheets looked at one another with raised eyebrows.

"Sir Grey is the one raising him," one of them whispered.

"More than the king ever has."

"Exactly," another nodded.

The whispers made their way through stone corridors, across polished floors, between fluttering curtains—

Until they reached the Queen.

Not the king.

Not Sakino.

But the Queen herself.

And so, Caelan was summoned.

She stood outside the private chamber door and knocked twice, firm but respectful.

"Your Majesty," she announced.

"Enter," came the queen's voice from within—measured, quiet, but commanding.

Caelan stepped in and immediately knelt. "You called?"

The queen didn't even look at her right away. She turned slightly toward her attendants and said flatly, "Leave us alone."

They hesitated.

"Now," she added—cool, authoritative.

The ladies exchanged wary glances, then bowed and exited, shutting the door behind them.

A long silence.

Then, the queen exhaled slowly, almost like someone bracing for a headache.

"So," she said, rising to her feet and turning to face the kneeling knight. "Care to explain why the entire palace believes you're the father of Prince Lucian?"

Her voice was smooth, unreadable—like a silk ribbon concealing a blade.

"Caelan Grey," she added pointedly. "Daughter of Gedeion Grey."

Caelan's jaw tightened.

She finally lifted her gaze, her voice steady but weary.

"I couldn't say no."

The queen's eyes narrowed.

"When he asked to call me father," Caelan continued, "I couldn't refuse his request."

The Queen stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back. Her gaze was sharp, unblinking.

"If this is a political liability," she said, "I can issue an order."

There was no malice in her tone—just quiet calculation.

"After all," she added smoothly, "when I agreed to your plan, I didn't agree to harbor a rumor bomb within my palace."

Her words were soft, but her presence filled the room.

◇◇◇◇

{Flashback}

Caelan — age 9 — knelt beside her father. Hair cropped rough and short, dressed like a boy, face streaked with dried blood and scratches.

She looked like a wild wolf cub who'd just won a brawl with a boar twice her size.

The "boar" in question was her father.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Queen asked, her voice calm, sharp as glass.

"Please forgive me, Your Majesty," Gideon said, placing a firm hand on Caelan's head and pressing it down.

"But this brat of mine—" he sighed, shaking his head, "—has a crazy idea."

"I'm not a brat—!" Caelan snapped, lifting her head. "Your Majesty! Allow me to be a boy. The personal knight of His Highness August!"

She slammed a hand against her chest with fire in her eyes.

The Queen's gaze narrowed. "Why?"

"Because August hates women," Caelan declared without hesitation. "And I want to stay by his side no matter what."

Gideon smacked the back of her head. "Brat! Be respectful! This isn't back home!"

"Old man, stop hitting me! You already lost!" Caelan barked, swatting his hand away.

The two broke into full bickering.

"Enough," the Queen said.

They both froze.

She looked directly at Caelan now. Her stare pierced through skin and bone. "What makes you say my son hates women?"

"I saw him," Caelan answered.

"I snuck into his room."

Her voice was steady, but her fists trembled slightly.

"No one's seen him in days. Not even you," she continued, defiant. "No one's allowed in his room anymore. But I saw how he was."

"CAELAN!" Gideon's hand raised again, furious.

But she didn't stop.

"He told me himself. When I snuck in, he said—don't come near me, you're a girl."

Caelan clutched the front of her shirt, her eyes burning.

"He looked so...disgusted."

"So I lied. I told him I was a boy. I cut my hair. With his scissors."

"And when I did that…" her voice dropped. "He relaxed."

"I'll do anything to get my friend back!" she pleaded.

then whispered "So please… allow me to stay by his side. As his knight."

"I swear I'll protect him. I'll find out who did this to him. Who made my friend hate every woman he knows—including his own mother!"

SMACK.

Gideon struck her again and pushed her head down.

"Please excuse my daughter's vulgar words," he said with a heavy sigh. "She's been spending too much time with the mercs lately."

"I'll take the punishment for her rudeness."

Caelan tried to lift her head. "But I—"

"Very well," the Queen cut in.

Her voice didn't rise, but the air seemed to shift.

"Gideon Grey," she said coldly, "you are hereby stationed on the northern borders. Effective immediately."

He didn't flinch.

"And as for your daughter…"

She paused.

"I don't see one."

Caelan blinked.

"Caelan Grey, son of Gideon Grey," the Queen said with finality, "from this day forward, you are to serve and protect my son. Even if it costs you your life."

"Are you prepared to do that?"

Caelan escaped her father's grip and lowered herself into a knight's oath stance — one knee to the ground, back straight, and fist pressed firmly to her chest.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

[End of flashback ]

◇◇◇◇

Caelan's head lowered, voice quiet.

"No... it's far worse. And far better."

She slowly looked up, the sunlight filtering through the high arched windows catching her eyes — making them gleam with a sharp, unnatural light, like embers fanned to life.

"I finally know who did it."

The queen's expression didn't change, but a shadow passed through her gaze.

"Who did what?" she asked, calm but cautious.

Caelan's voice was steel now.

"I know who made August hate women. And how."