Chapter 21: Heartless

Melyn stifled a yawn, tugging her hood lower as the din of the city pressed against her temples. The clamour of Obsidianhold was relentless as it always was. Vendors crying out their wares, wagon wheels rattling over stone, the hum of countless voices weaving into a ceaseless roar she almost wanted to scream in frustration.

It was a city of dark spires and black-bricked streets, where shadows clung even in daylight, and the air always seemed to hum with an undercurrent of urgency. The capital is always crowded. She did not plan to go here today, but for the sake of her princess, her head has been itching to urge her to do something quickly.

She eased back into an alcove, the hood casting her face in shadow. It was second nature to her now, to blend in and vanishing into the spaces no one thought to look. To any other passerby, Melyn was no different from a weary traveler resting her feet. But to anyone who knew the real her, it was otherwise.

Her gaze flicked toward the maid at the stall, fingers deftly exchanging coin for goods. Sleep tugged at her, and the beginnings of a headache gnawed at her skull, yet she forced herself alert. Because one careless moment and she could lose her quarry in the tide of Obsidianhold’s chaos.

Melyn’s eyes narrowed as the maid shifted her basket to the crook of her arm and moved on, weaving through the crowded street with a practiced ease that only made her more certain she was hiding something. She lingered a moment longer in the alcove, then melted into the crowd soundlessly.

Calm and deliberate…she was gone before anyone could have said she was there at all. A shadow trailing shadows. Her lips curved in a humourless smile as she murmured under her breath, low enough to be lost beneath the roar of merchants and horses.

“Got you.”

And then she vanished.

~×~

The maid strolled along the busy market street, her basket swinging lightly at her side. She paused at a fruit stall, fingers brushing over ripe pears as the merchant haggled with another customer. She smiled when the merchant tried to offer her a reasonable price, but she refused politely and kept walking.

Her lips moved as she murmured to herself, quietly ticking items off an invisible list. “Bread rolls, honey figs, salted almonds…ah, I still need dried plums, and maybe a few sugared walnuts if they have them.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, shifting the basket in her arms as she surveyed the stalls. “Oh, and tea leaves. Liana will scold me if I forget again.”

The sun was bright today, and the air was filled with the calls of vendors and the scent of roasted chestnuts. It was rare for Noctharis to be this bright, so she did not waste the time to bask in the warmth. Though, she kept herself alerted to make sure she will not be late to return to the palace.

Unbestknown to her, shadow suddenly shifted where none should be. The sound of the crowd dimmed, swallowed into silence. For the briefest breath, the world around her turned black. By the time she blinked, the fruit slipped from her grasp and rolled across the cobblestones. And then…nothing.

The maid who had been standing in the middle of the crowd vanished like she was never there, and the city continue to be alive. No one had seen what happened. No one ever did. And more importantly, no one need to know.

~×~

The maid’s eyes fluttered open to darkness, her body heavy as though weighed down by stone. A faint crackle reached her ears, pulling her further into wakefulness. She shifted a bit and stopped to groan when her stiff body moved. Unaware that the sound of her movement has also stirred the hooded figure crouched a few paces away.

A fire burned low in a stone hearth, its glow casting long shadows against the walls of what seemed like an abandoned cellar. The figure was bent over, coaxing the flame to life with a bundle of kindling.

“Tch,” the woman muttered beneath her hood, her voice sharp and low. “Didn’t even get to sleep…and now it’s nightfall, all because of this.”

The maid froze, pulse hammering, her lips parting in a soundless gasp upon realising where she was. She did not recognize the place, nor the woman. Only the faint scent of damp stone, smoke, and something colder and dangerous as her head pulsed in alarm.

The hooded figure tossed another stick into the fire, its light briefly illuminating the lower half of her face. Her expression was unreadable, her lips were pressed thin in irritation as though she was more inconvenienced than threatening.

“Finally awake?” she said without turning. “Good. Saves me the trouble of dragging water to wake you.”

“W-who are you?!” The maid stammered, her eyes darting around the dim space. With her hands tied to the back of the chair she was sitting on, she could barely move.

The hooded figure stood slowly, her movements unhurried as if the fear in the maid’s voice were no more than background noise. She clapped her hands together lightly, brushing the dirt from her palms.

“Relax,” she drawled, her tone edged with mockery. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be awake to ask me questions.”

The maid’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “T-then why—why am I here? Who are you? W-what do you want from m-me?!”

The woman’s lips curled beneath the shadow of her hood, not quite a smile, more of a baring of teeth. “You’re here because you’ve been careless, and careless people in Obsidianhold don’t last long.”

The maid shrank back, shaking her head, petrified to her core. “I don’t— w-what are you talking about?!”

The hooded woman let out a quiet sigh, almost bored. Then, with deliberate slowness, she lifted her hands to her hood and pushed it back. The firelight immediately caught her face, casting sharp shadows over familiar features.

The maid’s eyes widened in horror. “L-lady Melyn…?” she whispered, her voice breaking in disbelief.

Melyn’s eyes glinted, cold and amused. She tilted her head, clearly savouring the maid’s disbelief. “Surprised?” she asked softly, almost gently. “Did you really think the princess’ handmaiden only brushed her hair and fetched her gowns? Huh?” She slowly crouched in front of her. “Theana?”

Theana’s lips trembled upon hearing her name falling from her lips, words failing her as she stared at the woman she had once thought of as harmless. Her voice was so sharp she felt it ringing in her ears.

“Don’t look at me like that, Theana. You’re not innocent enough to play the lamb.”

Theana shook her head frantically, her body writhing against the ropes, as though sheer panic might loosen them but no, it only tighten with every desperate move.

Melyn paid no mind. She only leaned back and asked, “Tell me, who opened the balcony last night?”

“I–it wasn’t me!” Theana blurted, her voice cracking and spilling out faster than her own thoughts. “I swear, I never touched the balcony— I only did as I was told!”

Melyn paused, her brows furrowing as she drew back a little, almost disappointed. “…That easy?” Her frown cut deeper, eyes narrowing on the maid as though reevaluating her worth. “Tch…I thought I’d at least have to squeeze before you squealed.”

If she was mocking, Theana did not hear it. Her words tumbled out in a rush as tears streamed down her face.

“I only followed what Liana did! She—she’s the one who opened the balcony and put out the lantern. She told me to come with her, so I did! I didn’t know what was happening, I swear it! She never told me anything—never!”

Her breathing quickened, chest rising and falling as the fire crackled between them.

Melyn hummed, watching her like a cat cornering a mouse. A faintest smirk tugged at her lips as she stood with ease. “So that’s how it is…you’re just a shadow trailing after another shadow.”

Theana nodded frantically, she did not even try to defend herself. “Y-yes, yes! I didn’t mean to be part of anything! It was all Liana—she didn’t explain anything to me, she just acted, and I thought— I thought—”

“—that blind loyalty would keep you safe?” Melyn cut her off, her tone laced with mocking amusement.

Theana’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Because it was true, she had thought so. She had trusted Liana!

Melyn spoke slowly, deliberately listing out her crimes. “You opened the balcony. You extinguished the lanterns. You left her vulnerable.”

Theana whimpered, shaking her head so violently her braid slapped against her shoulders, denying the accusations but was unable to force herself to speak anymore.

Melyn frowned, as if she was sad for her. “But do you know what displeases me the most, Theana?” she asked softly, though the softness was more dangerous than a shout. “It is that you

dared to endanger her. The princess you swore to serve. The one who trusted you. And you almost handed her over to death.”

She let the words hang, then she circled the trembling maid and stepped forward from behind, not to harm her, but to cut the rope that bind her hands.

“Run,” Melyn said flatly. Her voice carried no warmth nor pity, only the quiet promise of a predator giving its prey one last chance. “If you still want to live.”

For a heartbeat, Theana did not move, shocked and terrified at the sudden mercy. Then, with a strangled cry, she scrambled to her feet and fled into the darkness, the sound of her frantic footsteps swallowed by the night.

Melyn did not bother to watch Theana vanish into the dark. Instead, she crouched again and gathered the discarded ropes and the scraps of cloth from the ground. With practiced ease, she tossed them into the hearth. The fire licked greedily at the evidence, swallowing it whole until only sparks and smoke remained.

“You missed the show,” she drawled, brushing her hands clean, her back still to the intruder.

“I didn’t,” came the calm reply. His voice was unmistakable.

Melyn continue to feed the flames. “…Of course you didn’t.”

Levan’s expression did not shift as he leaned against the wall. His golden eyes glinting in the firelight. “And what exactly was the purpose of that?” His tone was deadpan, almost dismissive, as though the entire interrogation had been nothing but wasted breath.

Melyn halted for a moment, then with a sigh, she resumed. “Someone was trying to harm your wife,” she lifted her gaze at him, then back to the fire. “Aren’t you worried?”

“She’s fine,” Levan replied, his tone flat, unbothered.

Melyn’s brows drew together. “For now.”

He did not flinch. “Your point?”

“That this isn’t over.” Her voice hardened, frustration bleeding through. “You sit there as if her life isn’t being targeted, as if none of this touches you.”

Levan’s expression did not shift. “Because it doesn’t. She’s still breathing.”

The words struck sharper than he realized. Melyn’s jaw tightened. “Unbelievable…” She scoffed. “You have a wife who adores you and you can’t even summon an ounce of concern?”

Levan’s eyes narrowed, but his voice remained maddeningly calm. “Concern doesn’t change outcomes, actions do, and you’re already handling it.”

Melyn’s lips pressed into a thin line, the fire crackling as if mocking her restraint. Finally, she let the words tumble out in a low, venomous murmur.

“Cold-hearted bastard…stone-faced son of a—,” she clicked her tongue, spitting out curses under her breath, each one sharper than the last. She did not bother to lower her voice too much; she wanted him to hear. Melyn harshly poked the hearth with a stick.

But Levan, still leaning against the wall, did not so much as blink. His gaze stayed fixed, unreadable, as though her words had slid off him like water against steel. Because if there was anyone who dared to insult him, it would be her. And he had long knew it to react.

Melyn shot him a sidelong glance, clearly angry. “Do you ever feel anything at all, Your Highness? Or was your heart carved out the day you were born?”

Still, no reaction. His silence was an answer in itself, heavier than any denial.

Melyn exhaled sharply, a humourless laugh escaping her. “Tch. Figures. If anyone’s fool enough to waste their breath cursing you, it might as well be me.”

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