Chapter 5 The Seeds Of Rebellion

The dawn that followed the masquerade broke cold and colorless. Mist curled over the courtyards of Valaris Palace, softening its marble edges but not the unease that clung to its halls. The music and laughter of the previous night had left behind only echoes-and rumors.

Queen Selene Valaris stood by the tall windows of her council chamber, watching the fog twist through the gardens. The glass beneath her palm felt chilled, as though the warmth of the kingdom itself had begun to slip away. Somewhere in the distance, bells tolled for morning prayers, their sound brittle in the air.

Her steward entered quietly. "Majesty, the council awaits."

Selene turned, the weight of her crown suddenly heavier than it should have been. "Let them wait a moment longer," she said. "Tell them I wish to speak privately with Lord Kael before we convene."

The steward bowed and left.

---

Kael arrived not long after. He looked composed, but there was tension beneath his calm-something sharp in the set of his jaw. He bowed low. "You asked for me, Majesty."

"I did." Selene's voice was even, but her eyes studied him carefully. "There are rumors spreading through the court. About you. About my sister."

Kael's mouth curved slightly. "Court tongues wag when bored, Majesty. Give them silence and they invent sound."

"Then silence them."

"I would," he said, "if I thought it served you. But sometimes rumors keep worse truths hidden."

She stepped closer. "And what truth should I fear?"

"That you are surrounded by men who smile when you speak of peace and sharpen their knives the moment you turn away."

Selene's expression barely shifted, but her pulse quickened. "You think there is treachery in my council?"

"I don't think," Kael replied softly. "I know."

He produced a sealed parchment from his cloak and laid it on the table between them. Selene broke the seal and scanned the contents. The letters were written in a looping, noble hand-plans, names, and a promise of uprising.

The Duke of Renmar. The Count of Mairen. Even two members of her own guard.

Selene's breath caught. "Where did this come from?"

"From the north," Kael said. "Intercepted by my men. They call it The Dawn Pact. It speaks of restoring 'balance' to the throne-by replacing you."

Her fingers tightened around the parchment. "Replacing me... with whom?"

Kael met her gaze steadily. "They do not say. But they speak of a 'blood of equal right.' That narrows the field, does it not?"

The meaning struck like a blade.

Lyra.

---

Later, when the council convened, Selene wore the same calm mask she had always worn. The nobles bowed, spoke of trade and taxes, none daring to meet her eyes for long. She answered each in turn, her voice level, her gestures measured. But every word she heard sounded hollow now, drowned beneath the whisper of the letter in her sleeve.

When the meeting ended, she dismissed them all save one-her general, Lord Auren.

"Double the watch on the eastern gates," she ordered. "No one enters or leaves without my word."

Auren hesitated. "Majesty, such restrictions will alarm the merchants."

"Then let them be alarmed," Selene said. "Better fear than revolt."

---

That evening, Lyra sought her out. The princess appeared unbothered, almost glowing in the firelight. "You seem distant, sister. Did the celebration tire you so badly?"

Selene turned from the map spread across her desk. "I tire of masks that hide daggers."

Lyra's smile flickered. "You speak in riddles."

"Do I?" Selene's gaze was cool. "Then allow me to be plain. If there are those whispering treason in your presence, you will tell me."

Lyra's eyes widened, not with guilt but insult. "You think I would consort with traitors?"

"I think you crave attention," Selene said quietly. "And attention is a dangerous currency."

Lyra stepped closer, her voice trembling between anger and hurt. "You mistake confidence for ambition, Sister. Perhaps the crown has made you forget the difference."

"Perhaps," Selene said. "But I haven't forgotten what ambition looks like."

For a long moment, they stared at one another-two mirrors, each reflecting what the other feared becoming.

Finally Lyra turned away. "You rule a kingdom built on suspicion. One day it will consume you."

"And what will it consume you with?" Selene asked.

Lyra paused at the door. "Purpose."

Then she was gone, leaving the air heavy with the scent of burned wax and roses.

---

Later that night, thunder rolled over the palace. In her chambers, Lyra paced restlessly before her window. On the table lay a small, unmarked box sealed with black wax-the same crest Selene had seen on the treasonous letter.

Lyra's hand hovered over it. She should have sent it to her sister, should have destroyed it, should have done anything but open it.

But curiosity and resentment are twin flames. She broke the seal.

Inside lay a folded parchment and a ring of obsidian carved with the emblem of a rising sun.

Princess Lyra Valaris, the letter read, the people remember your mother's grace and see it in you. They believe you would bring gentler rule than the queen's iron hand. When the time comes, the Dawn will call. Wear the ring, and we will know where your loyalties lie.

Lyra stared at the ring. It was beautiful in a cold, dark way, the kind of beauty that whispers promises instead of truth.

She closed the lid but didn't put it away.

---

Elsewhere in the palace, Kael walked the torch-lit corridor to his quarters. A shadow detached itself from the wall and followed him inside-Darian.

"You shouldn't be here," Kael said.

"Nor should you," Darian replied. "The queen trusts you too much."

Kael smiled faintly. "And you trust her too blindly."

The guard's hand went to his sword. "You think I don't see what you're doing?"

"I think you see only what your heart allows," Kael said. "But tell me-when the tide turns, will your loyalty save her? Or will it drown you both?"

Darian's jaw clenched. "If you hurt her, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Kael interrupted softly. "Kill me? Then who will protect her from what's coming?"

He stepped past Darian and into the dark hall, his voice fading like a threat carried by the wind. "You're guarding the wrong enemy."

---

The storm broke near midnight. Rain hammered the palace roofs, lightning flashing across the towers. In the east wing, a messenger arrived drenched and trembling, clutching a scroll sealed with the mark of the border garrisons.

Selene read it by candlelight. Her expression hardened.

Rebellion banners had been sighted on the northern road.

The Dawn had risen