I Woke Up Married to the Cursed King

Chapter 18: Chapter 18: First Break

They worked through the night.

Not continuously — Sable went to rest around the second hour past midnight, practical about her limits in a way Elian respected. He kept going. The records were dense and the connections he was looking for were the kind that didn’t announce themselves. You had to build the picture slowly, one detail at a time, until something that shouldn’t connect did.

By morning he had three pages of notes and a headache and no name.

Caelian found him at the table.

He walked in without announcement — he’d stopped knocking at some point, which Elian had noticed and not commented on — and looked at the spread of records, the empty tea cups, the candles burned most of the way down.

Then he looked at Elian.

"You didn’t come to bed," he said.

"I lost track of time." Elian straightened. Rolled his neck. "I’m sorry."

Caelian’s eyes moved to the bracelet on his own wrist.

Elian looked too.

Ten beads darkened.

Ten.

He was up and across the room before he’d consciously decided to move. He took Caelian’s wrist, turned it over, looked at the bracelet properly in the morning light.

Ten. When did it get to ten.

He’d been so focused on the records he hadn’t checked.

He unclasped it. Set it aside.

Caelian watched him. "I don’t need a new one."

"You’re keeping that one." Elian was already moving to his materials. "Consider it retired. I’ll make you another."

"It’s still functional."

"Humor me." He came back. Took Caelian’s wrist again, this time to measure the fit from memory. "You can keep the old one in a drawer if you want. Put it next to your medals."

Caelian made a sound that was almost — not quite, but almost — amused.

He looked at the records spread across the table. "What are you working on."

"Household matter," Elian said.

"You’ve been working on this household matter for three days."

"It’s a complicated household matter."

Caelian looked at him.

Elian looked back pleasantly.

"Has anyone ever told you," Caelian said, "that you are remarkably difficult to get information from."

"Frequently," Elian said. "Can I ask you something?"

"You’re going to regardless."

"Has anyone — other than me — touched you recently? Held your hand. Gripped your arm. Anything like that. Sustained contact."

A pause.

Caelian’s expression didn’t change but something behind it shifted. "Why."

"Just answer, please."

"You do," Caelian said. "The council members. During formal proceedings they sometimes — ceremony requires contact. The guards when assisting with armor. The maids when—" He paused. Looked at Elian. "That’s a very long list."

"Yes," Elian said. "It is."

He kept his face neutral.

Council members, he thought. Seven of them. Any one of them with eastern connections, with access, with a reason. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

"Don’t stay up late tonight," Caelian said. He said it in the tone of someone who knew it wouldn’t necessarily be followed but was saying it anyway. "Come to bed."

"I will," Elian said.

Caelian looked at him for a moment longer. Then he left, moving back into his day with the efficiency of a man who had a kingdom to run and had already allocated exactly as much time as he could spare for this conversation.

Elian sat back down at the table.

Sable appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, tea in hand, looking at the records.

"Council members," Elian said.

"I heard." She sat. "Seven of them. Any of whom had ceremonial access to touch him. Any of whom could have traveled east or had eastern contacts without it being particularly notable." She picked up one of his pages of notes. "This is going to be much harder than we thought."

"Of course it is." Elian reached for his own tea. Cold. He drank it anyway. "They’ve been working inside this palace for years. They know exactly what they’re doing. We were never going to find it quickly."

Sable said nothing. Just read.

They worked.

The maid came in mid-morning.

Not Mira — one of the others. Young. The kind of careful that came from paying attention to everything and knowing that information had value.

She hesitated in the doorway. Looked at Elian. At Sable. Back at Elian.

"Your Highness," she said. "I don’t know if this is the kind of thing—"

"Tell me," Elian said.

She twisted her hands together once. Then: "One of the council members. Last evening. In the east corridor — I was passing, he didn’t see me." She stopped.

"Go on," Elian said.

"He said—" She looked uncomfortable. "He said His Majesty won’t live to see his reign consolidated. That it was only a matter of time." A pause. "He said it like he was certain. Not like a worry. Like a fact he already knew."

The room was very quiet.

Elian looked at Sable.

Sable looked at Elian.

"Which council member," Elian said. His voice came out completely even.

She told him.

He wrote the name down. Set the pen down carefully.

"You did well," he said. "Come to me if you hear anything else. Anything at all — it doesn’t matter how small."

She straightened slightly. The careful look replaced by something more settled. "Yes, Your Highness."

She left.

Sable was already leaning forward. "That’s—"

"Our first break," Elian said.

He looked at the name on the paper.

A council member. Seven years in service. Ceremonial access to the king at every formal occasion. Enough proximity to touch. Enough trust to never be looked at twice.

There you are, Elian thought.

"We still need proof," Sable said.

"I know."

"And we need to find the body."

"I know that too."

"And we need to do it before—"

"I know," Elian said. He folded the paper. Put it in his pocket. "But we have a name. We have a direction." He stood up. Stretched. "That’s more than we had yesterday."

Sable looked at him.

"You’re almost smiling," she said.

"I’m a con man," he said. "A name is everything. Once you have a name, you pull the thread and everything unravels."

He picked up his cold tea.

"We have a name," he said. "Let’s pull."

The maid came back before he’d finished the afternoon’s work.

She appeared in the doorway again with the same careful expression. This time with something in her hand — a folded note.

"I’m sorry, Your Highness. I thought of something else."

"Come in," Elian said.

She handed him the note. "I wrote down what I remembered. The exact words. I thought it might help."

He unfolded it.

She’d written it out carefully. He said: his majesty will not see the next year’s harvest. He said it like he was telling someone the time.

Elian looked at it.

The next year’s harvest. Not his reign consolidated — this was more specific. A timeframe. Specific enough that it wasn’t speculation.

He knows, Elian thought. He knows the timeframe because he controls it. Because he or whoever is running him controls when the curse finishes.

"This is very helpful," he said. "Excellent work."

She straightened slightly. "Anything else, Your Highness, I’ll bring it straight to you."

"I know you will," Elian said.

She left.

Elian sat with the note.

The next year’s harvest, he thought. They’re planning to accelerate. They want this done before the year turns.

He looked at the bracelet on his wrist.

Then he thought about the bracelet on Caelian’s wrist.

You should be afraid, he thought at whoever was behind this. Because you just told me you have a deadline. And I now know what I’m working against.

He picked up his pen.

Let’s see who runs out of time first.