Veil of Ashes :Claimed by them

The air grew heavier with each step the stewardess took into the dining hall, the echo of her heeled boots slicing through the din like a knife through cloth.

Lady Virelle Decartes.

Everyone straightened involuntarily, spines going stiff, hands stilling mid-bite. Even the clatter of spoons on bowls came to a halt.

Lady Virelle's imposing figure was wrapped in her usual raven-black uniform, cinched sharply at the waist with silver buttons gleaming like cold coins. Her icy blond hair was twisted into a high coil atop her head, secured by pins shaped like thorns. A long velvet cloak trailed behind her, flanked by two junior stewards and three guards in muted armor.

She walked with a kind of deliberate contempt, her gaze scanning the room as though the very sight of the lowborn servants disgusted her. Her nose curled slightly, and when she spoke, it was in that clipped, precise tone of hers—measured, cold, and always heard.

"If any of you have committed a grave mistake in recent days," she said, pausing to let the weight of her words fall, "step forward now. Spare yourselves the humiliation of being dragged out like rats."

Not a single body moved. The hall, once noisy and buzzing, was a sea of frozen faces and strained silence.

Someone near Kael whispered under their breath, "What mistake would even survive long enough to be questioned?"

Another muttered, "Yeah... when's the last time someone wasn't punished the moment they blinked wrong?"

Kael kept his eyes on Lady Virelle , but he could feel the wave of nervous energy crawling across the room like ants beneath the skin.

Lady Virelle continued, her lip twitching in distaste. "His Highness, the Third Prince, has issued a summon. Every female servant, regardless of age or station, is to report to the north wing entertainment hall. Immediately."

Aera went still beside him, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress.

Low murmurs followed, quickly turning to speculative buzz.

"Why all the maids?"

"Is he... picking women? For pleasure?"

"No—he wouldn't call old ones if that were it. They've got highborn ladies for that. A whole harem."

"Then what is it?"

"Maybe... maybe something went missing from his chambers?"

That theory turned the murmurs into sharp gasps. Kael didn't need to guess why.

Stealing from an imperial family member—especially a prince—was not just a punishable offense.

It was a death sentence.

And suspicion alone was often enough to condemn. Evidence wasn't required. It never had been.

Around him, Kael saw it. The way the maids' faces drained of color, their fingers twitching, eyes wide and darting toward the exits as if calculating the chances of escape.

Aera's hand slipped into his. Ice cold.

"Kael…" she whispered, voice barely audible.

He didn't speak. He only squeezed her hand in return, steady and warm, and gave a small nod.

It was all he could offer.

Lady Virelle's voice cracked like a whip across the hall. "Enough whispering! All of you—form a line. Now. Anyone who lags will taste my cane before they ever see the prince."

The words snapped them into motion. Chairs scraped loudly against stone, footsteps shuffled, skirts rustled in hurried, anxious movement.

Aera gave Kael one last look. Her lips trembled but lifted into a small, brave smile. "I'll be fine," she said. It didn't sound convincing.

He didn't know what to say.

So he nodded again. His fingers gave one last reassuring squeeze before she pulled away.

Kael watched her go, swallowed by a tide of fearful women, their backs tense as they followed the stewardess out of the dining hall like lambs to a ritual.

Soon, the room was nearly empty.

Only the male servants remained, resuming their chatter the moment the last hem vanished from sight.

"Damn. This feels serious."

"Think someone really stole something?"

"Or maybe he just woke up bored. Wouldn't be the first time a noble played games with people's lives."

Kael sat in silence, his half-eaten food forgotten.

He tuned out the voices, the gossip, the small attempts at laughter that felt forced and misplaced.

Aera's hand had been cold.

She had smiled, but her eyes...

Kael stared at the spot where she had stood moments ago.

Then, slowly, he pressed his hands together and bowed his head.

It felt awkward—foreign. His fingers didn't know the posture anymore, like an old ritual forgotten by time.

He hadn't prayed in years.

Not since his grandmother's passing. Not since the day the village burned, taking the last of his faith with it.

But now…

He prayed.

To the stars, to the silent sky, to the Heavens he no longer believed in.

Let her be safe.

Don't let her get dragged into something cruel.

Don't let her vanish like the others.

Even as he rose and left the dining hall to resume his duties, Kael's mind didn't stray far. His body moved, his hands obeyed orders, but his thoughts remained with Aera.

And the silent prayer continued like a whisper in his chest.