The Broken Sky

Chapter 2: The Hidden Listener

The sound of Ramiel's shoes echoed lightly off the marble floors as she walked through the corridors of the west wing, her mind swirling with the lessons she had just endured. Etiquette, literature, and diplomacy—all vital skills for a High Lady in training, or so her mother insisted. But Ramiel's heart longed for the freedom of the training grounds, where she could lose herself in the fluid movements of swordplay and forget the rigid constraints of her upbringing.

She was only six years old, but already she felt the weight of expectation pressing down on her tiny shoulders. Her mind was sharp, her instincts keen, and most importantly, she had learned to listen—not just with her ears, but with something deeper, something innate. This ability, this unusual sense that seemed to reside in her very bones, made her stand out, even among her family.

As she reached the end of the hallway, where her final class of the day was supposed to take place, Ramiel paused. A twinge of restlessness flared in her chest. The thought of another hour spent in a stuffy room reciting historical facts or practising the proper way to curtsy made her stomach churn.

No, she decided. Not today.

With a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching, Ramiel turned on her heel and began to make her way through the winding corridors of the estate. She moved with purpose, basically invisible, her steps light and quiet, just as she had practiced during her nighttime escapades. The knights stationed at various posts in the hallways hardly noticed her as she passed, their gazes fixed ahead as they stood guard.

Ramiel allowed her unusual senses to guide her. She had always been able to find Rhysand, no matter where he was in the vast estate. It was as if an invisible thread connected them, leading her straight to her older brother whenever she needed him.

As she neared the castle's heart, the familiar pulse of energy told her she was close. She sensed Rhysand's presence, solid and steady, but there was something else—an undercurrent of tension that made her slow her pace. She also felt the unmistakable power of their father, the High Lord of the Night Court.

Ramiel's curiosity piqued. What could Rhysand and their father be discussing? She quickened her pace, following the thread of energy until she found herself standing in front of the grand double doors of the throne room.

The knights at the entrance stood tall and imposing, their gazes fixed straight ahead. Ramiel knew she couldn't simply walk in. Even though she was the High Lord's daughter, the throne room was a place of serious matters, not somewhere a child was welcome uninvited.

But she wasn't just any child.

She knew of a hidden entrance, a secret passageway she had discovered by accident during one of her many explorations of the estate. It was concealed behind a tapestry depicting the constellations of Velaris' night sky, a room that had always fascinated her with its woven stars and swirling galaxies.

Ramiel glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, before slipping behind the tapestry. She found the small, almost invisible seam in the wall and pressed against it. The stone shifted silently, revealing a narrow passageway that led directly to a hidden alcove in the throne room.

As she crawled through the passage, the voices of her brother and father grew clearer. She reached the end and peered through the narrow slit that gave her a perfect view of the throne room. There, she saw Rhysand standing before their father, his posture stiff, his hands clasped behind his back in a show of forced composure.

Her father's voice was calm, measured, but Ramiel could sense the gravity of his words. "Rhysand, you are the heir to this court, the future High Lord of the Night Court. It is time for you to begin your true training."

Ramiel's heart skipped a beat as she saw the flicker of emotion cross Rhysand's face. He was only eight, but he carried the burden of his future title with a seriousness beyond his years.

"The Illyrian war camps will teach you what you cannot learn here," their father continued, his gaze steady on Rhysand. "Strength, discipline, the art of war. These are the qualities you must possess if you are to rule. You will leave tomorrow."

Ramiel's breath caught in her throat. The Illyrian war camps? She had heard of them—harsh, brutal places where young warriors were forged through blood and sweat. The thought of her brother being sent there filled her with a dread she couldn't quite explain.

She watched as Rhysand's hands tightened into fists at his sides. His jaw clenched, but he kept his face impassive, betraying none of the turmoil that Ramiel could feel radiating from him. "Yes, Father," Rhysand said, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth. He bowed low, accepting the decree as his duty, though Ramiel could see the fear and uncertainty hidden in his eyes.

Their father nodded, satisfied with Rhysand's response. "You will be a great High Lord, Rhysand. I have no doubt. But greatness requires sacrifice."

Rhysand straightened, his expression one of resolute acceptance. But to Ramiel, who knew her brother better than anyone, the weight of those words seemed to press down on him like a mountain. She wanted to run to him, to tell him he didn't have to go, that they could find another way. But she knew better than to reveal herself now.

As the conversation ended, their father dismissed Rhysand, who turned and began to walk toward the doors. Ramiel quickly retreated down the passageway, her heart racing as she slipped out from behind the tapestry and darted into an empty hallway just as Rhysand stepped out of the throne room.

She watched from the shadows as he walked away, his steps slower than usual, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Ramiel bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes. She hated seeing him like this, burdened by a destiny he hadn't chosen.

Once Rhysand was out of sight, Ramiel leaned against the cold stone wall, her mind racing. She had to do something—anything—to help him. She couldn't let him face this alone, even if it meant defying their father's wishes.

As she stood there, hidden in the shadows, a resolve began to form within her. Rhysand was her brother, her protector, her closest friend. And she would find a way to protect him, no matter the cost.