Her gaze drifted to a plain brocade box resting upon the table.
It had belonged to her mother.
Since entering the Valehart estate, she had kept it always at hand, placing it upon her dressing table so she might look upon it each day, as though it carried with it a fragnt of her forr life.
The box was modest in size. Within lay only a carved hairpin and a folded handkerchief—simple keepsakes, long familiar to her.
Yet today, sothing seed... different.
Frowning slightly, Caelith removed the contents and examined the interior more closely. There—beneath the lining—was a faint indentation she had never before noticed.
Curiosity stirred.
She pressed firmly upon it.
With a soft click, a hidden compartnt sprang open—and from within, sothing slipped free, falling gently behind the box.
Startled, she bent swiftly to retrieve it.
In her hand lay a beautiful pendant.
It was carved from the finest mutton-fat white jade, its form delicately shaped into that of a flower. The surface was impossibly smooth, luminous in a way that seed almost unreal—as though it had been ford from congealed moonlight itself. When held, it carried a faint warmth, as if it retained the mory of a living touch.
And yet... It was broken.
The jade had split cleanly at the bottom, the fracture precise yet irreversible, leaving only the top half intact in her palm.
Even so, its beauty had not been diminished.
The craftsmanship was extraordinary. Along the remaining curve of the tail, intricate engravings flowed with graceful precision—each line still sharp, each detail untouched by ti. Even in its incomplete state, it spoke of the elegance it must once have possessed when whole.
Caelith’s brows drew together slightly.
She knew her mother’s belongings—every ornant, every hidden trinket, every piece that had ever been treasured or set aside. And yet this...
This fragnt of jade was wholly unfamiliar.
Such a piece, of this quality and clarity, would have been considered a rare treasure even in the flourishing lands of the Kingdom of Miaelin. It was not sothing one misplaced. Nor sothing easily forgotten.
Her mother had always been a woman of refined taste—one who valued beauty, who understood the worth of rare and exquisite things.
So how could such an object have co to be broken?
And more than that...
Why had it been hidden so carefully—sealed away within a secret compartnt, as though its very existence was ant to be concealed?
A quiet unease stirred in her chest, subtle at first, then spreading—like the slow unfurling of a shadow.
Wait...
Her fingers tightened ever so slightly around the jade.
The shape—
The curve of the petals, the style of the carving...
She had seen it before.
The mory surfaced gradually, like sothing long subrged rising through still water—uncertain at first, then sharpening into clarity.
At Rhaegar’s waist... There had been a jade ornant.
One that bore a striking resemblance to this very sa piece.
Could it be...
This broken half in her hand... had once belonged to the sa piece as his?
A tremor passed through Caelith’s heart.
Could there have been so long-forgotten connection between her mother and the Thorne family?
She was already certain—Rhaegar was none other than Rhae, the boy of her childhood.
But this jade...
What story did it conceal?
Was it a token exchanged between their families long ago? Or—
Had it once been a keepsake between herself and Rhae, broken by the passage of years, each of them unknowingly keeping one half?
She drew in a slow breath, steadying herself. Raising the fragnt, she sought to recall with greater clarity the pendant at Rhaegar’s waist, intending to compare the two—
"My lady..." Dolly’s voice ca suddenly from behind.
Startled, Caelith’s hands trembled. The jade slipped from her grasp.
It struck the ground—and shattered.
The crisp sound rang out—sharp and brittle—shattering the stillness of the chamber.
For a single, suspended mont, everything seed to fall silent.
Caelith stood motionless, her gaze fixed upon the scattered fragnts at her feet. Her breath caught, shallow and unsteady, as a sudden chill seized her chest, spreading inward like frost.
Dolly hurried forward, alarm flashing across her face.
"My lady! What happened? This—what is this object?"
Only then did Caelith seem to return to herself.
Without answering, she dropped to her knees at once, her movents abrupt, almost desperate. Her fingers trembled as she gathered the broken pieces one by one, as though fearing they might vanish if she did not hold them tightly enough.
This... had belonged to her mother.
And now... It lay in ruin.
"I’m fine," she said at last, though her voice was faint, distant—more an attempt to steady her own heart than to reassure anyone else.
Just then, a servant’s voice called from beyond the courtyard, clear and formal:
"My lady, Commander Rhaegar Thorne of the Shadow Guard has arrived to visit the heir. His Lordship requests your presence in the main hall."
Rhaegar... had co? Here?
Caelith’s fingers tightened unconsciously around the fragnts of jade, the sharp edges pressing lightly into her skin.
For a fleeting instant, her thoughts fell into disarray—the broken jade, the hidden past, the mory that had only just surfaced...
But she forced herself to breathe.
"Very well," she replied, her tone calm once more. "Inform the heir that I shall arrive shortly."
Dolly stepped forward, reaching out instinctively to assist her—but Caelith gently shook her head, refusing the help.
In hurried silence, she gathered the shattered jade and concealed it carefully, her movents swift, precise—each gesture betraying a quiet urgency she did not voice.
Dolly watched, her concern evident, yet she asked nothing.
Once her attire had been properly arranged and her expression restored to its usual calm, Caelith left her courtyard and made her way toward the main hall.
The corridors felt longer than usual.
The air––heavier.
Inside the hall, Dorian sat in the seat of honor, his posture composed, his authority unquestioned.
To one side, in the place reserved for honored guests, sat Rhaegar Thorne.
Still.
Unyielding.
A presence that seed to anchor the entire space.
As Caelith stepped inside, her gaze—almost against her will—lifted toward him.
At that exact mont, he raised his head.
Their eyes t.
For the briefest instant, ti seed to falter.
Sothing unspoken passed between them—silent, fleeting, yet laden with aning neither could voice.
Then... Awareness returned.
Impropriety.
Distance.
Control.
Caelith lowered her gaze at once, the mont severed as cleanly as it had ford.
Turning toward her husband, she moved forward with asured grace and dipped into a respectful curtsy.
"My lord... Commander Thorne."
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