[BL] Rules Of Desire: His Majesty's Secret-Chapter 38 - 36: What Lurks Beneath the Silence

Silence.

Only the sound of parchment fluttering somewhere deep between the shelves. freewebnσvel.cøm

He walked forward, carefully, his hands clenched by his sides. It was daylight. There shouldn’t be spirits roaming now. But something wasn’t right in Zarethrone anymore. It hadn’t been for days.

He turned a corner...

Nothing. It’s just another aisle of records. But one scroll on the shelf lay half open, the seal broken, and Hale swore it wasn’t like that before.

He reached for it, unfurling the document gently. It was old far older than most records kept on display. The script was faint but legible.

His eyes scanned the top.

> Recorded Under the Moonless Night Death by Shadows. Forbidden Entry into the Vale of Whispers. By Royal Decree, Sealed and Forgotten.

Hale’s breath hitched. He’d never heard of the Vale of Whispers before.

Behind him, a soft shuffle of footsteps. One, two... then nothing.

He turned again.

Still no one.

But this time, he felt it.

Not just presence but watching. As if something just beyond the veil of what was real had its eyes fixed on him.

He rolled up the scroll quickly, tucking it into the inner flap of his cloak.

"Kaelith needs to see this..." he whispered.

Just as he stepped away from the shelf, the whisper returned one final time.

"You shouldn’t have opened it..."

Hale’s legs moved before his mind caught up his boots thudding lightly against the stone floor as he backed away from the shelves, eyes darting around, heart hammering in his chest.

The scroll, now hidden beneath his cloak, felt like it was burning through the fabric.

He didn’t dare look back again. That voice, whatever it was, had felt too close and real.

By the time he reached the door of the archive, a breeze gusted through the hallway, but there were no windows open. There is no source for the wind.

The heavy door slammed shut behind him on its own.

Hale jumped, spinning to face it.

Nothing.

The silence returned, but it was no longer peaceful. It was tense. Heavy with warning.

He forced himself to breathe, one step after another, until he was outside again back under the clear sky. And only then did he realize how tense his shoulders had been, how cold his hands had become.

The guards stationed at the side gates gave him a glance, but Hale didn’t stop. He walked briskly, crossing through the garden paths and under the marble archway leading to the prince’s quarters.

Inside the main hall, Kaelith was adjusting his gloves, readying for another set of meetings.

"You’re pale," Kaelith noted the moment Hale entered. "What happened?"

Hale didn’t answer right away. He closed the chamber door behind him, locking it.

Kaelith straightened. "Hale?"

Without speaking, Hale pulled the scroll from his cloak and placed it on the table between them.

Kaelith’s gaze dropped to the faded script.

"Vale of Whispers?" he read slowly. Why does that sound...

"Forbidden," Hale said in a low voice. Buried. Forgotten. That’s what the scroll calls it.

Kaelith’s brows drew together. "You found this in the archives?"

Hale nodded. "I did. But that’s not all."

He hesitated, then looked up to meet Kaelith’s eyes. I heard a voice... twice. It said my name. Clearly. And there was no one else there.

Kaelith took a small step closer, tension creeping into his expression. "You saw no one?"

"No," Hale said, jaw tightening. "That’s what scares me. There were no footsteps. No shadows. Nothing human. And when I touched the scroll... it warned me. It told me I shouldn’t have opened it."

Kaelith’s breath caught. He tried to hold his composure, but something in Hale’s voice made his chest tighten. "And you brought it here?"

"I had to," Hale said. You asked me to find answers. The king won’t listen. He thinks it’s just people panicking. But this scroll. It might explain everything. The deaths. The whispers. The fear crawling through the streets every night.

Kaelith looked down at the scroll again, then slowly nodded. "We’ll read it. Tonight. Carefully. All of it."

Okay, Your Highness. Hale said, voice barely above a whisper.

"If we don’t understand what’s haunting us, we can’t protect anyone."

A silence fell between them, heavy and real. Kaelith reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Hale’s wrist.

"Don’t go back to that archive alone again."

"I wasn’t planning to," Hale murmured.

I mean, don’t go out of my sight for now.

Hale smile, Okay, Your Highness.

A knock interrupted them soft but urgent.

"Your Highness," a guard called from behind the door. "The council awaits you."

Kaelith exhaled, brushing a hand down his tunic as he collected himself. "Duty calls."

Hale glanced at the scroll, then at him. "Be careful."

"You too," Kaelith replied, eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he turned away and stepped out.

The council chamber was cloaked in uneasy silence as Kaelith stepped inside.

The round table was already filled, and his father, King Aldric, sat at the head, regal but weary. Beside him, Lord Darius, the king’s strategist, scribbled furiously. Sir Lysaro stood with his arms crossed, armour still dusted with morning drills. Elion sat with an elbow on the table, chin resting on his hand, lips pressed in a thin line.

All eyes turned to Kaelith.

"You’re late," King Aldric said, though his tone lacked bite. We’ve already begun.

Kaelith bowed slightly. "Apologies, Father."

He took his seat beside Elion, who leaned toward him, whispering, "They found three more dead bodies. That makes eighteen.

Kaelith’s jaw tensed.

Aldric didn’t waste time. There’s no poison. No wounds. No signs of break-in. They simply... fall where they stand. One near the market well. One outside the stables. Another near the inner court. His voice darkened. And last night, a guard was lost outside the eastern garden.

Lysaro slammed a fist against the table. We are under attack. No blade, no arrow, but something is killing our people.

And you still think this isn’t sorcery? Kaelith’s voice cut across the table.

The room went still.

Lord Elric cleared his throat. There is no evidence.

"No visible evidence," Kaelith interrupted. But something invisible is more dangerous than anything we can strike with a sword.

King Aldric’s gaze narrowed on his son. "You sound certain."

Kaelith hesitated. He couldn’t reveal the scroll yet. Not with so many ears... and not with his father still in denial.

"I’m not certain," he lied. But I’ve felt it. A presence. Last night. Like something brushing past me in the dark.

Elion shifted uneasily beside him. "I thought I was imagining it."

"You weren’t," Kaelith replied quietly.

Lysaro growled, If it is magic, then where’s it coming from? Zarethrone hasn’t known dark sorcery since the Vale Wars. And those were generations ago.

Kaelith kept his voice calm. Then perhaps something has returned.

The king’s expression remained unreadable. I will not have panic spread. This kingdom stands because we rule with order, not superstition.

Kaelith opened his mouth to argue, but Aldric raised a hand.

"We’ll double the night patrols. No one walks alone after sunset. And until we find proof of an outside force, I won’t entertain ghost stories."

The meeting ended on a bitter note. Tension lingered as the nobles filtered out, most exchanging glances that said everything their tongues didn’t.

Kaelith rose to leave, but the King called out to him. "Son."

He turned back.

If you do suspect something... beyond steel and shadow, bring it to me directly. Not to the council. Is that understood?

Kaelith bowed. "Understood."

But as he walked back through the corridors, one thought pulsed in his mind like a drumbeat.

My father doesn’t want the truth. He wants evidence.

And something in the whispers last night... had sounded too old, too angry, and too deliberate to be ignored any longer.

Kaelith didn’t return to his chambers immediately.

The halls of Zarethrone were quieter now, guards stationed at every post, the air thick with something that didn’t come from fear alone. It was tension. Uncertainty. Something ancient threading its way through the stone walls.

He took a longer path, looping toward the west corridor that led to the Hawkshade Wing, a part of the palace rarely used since the old war council chambers had been sealed off

He knew Elion would follow.

And he did.

They slipped into the unused war chamber without a word. Dust hung in the beams of sunlight, breaking through narrow windows, catching on the old crests and tapestries like forgotten memories.

"Eighteen dead," Elion said quietly, closing the door behind them. And the king still thinks it’s a coincidence.

Kaelith faced him. It’s not. Hale found something in the archives. A scroll. It mentioned the Vale of Whispers.

Elion’s eyes widened faintly. "That old legend?"

"It’s not a legend. It’s one that’s come back to life."

Kaelith pulled the scroll from beneath his cloak. He didn’t unroll it just let Elion see the wax seal still half intact, marked with an ancient sigil none of them had seen since boyhood stories of cursed lands.

Do you believe this is connected to the deaths?

Kaelith nodded. I believe something’s been reawakened. And someone buried this scroll for a reason.

Elion stepped closer, voice dropping. You know if your father finds out you’re keeping this from him.

He doesn’t want answers," Kaelith said coldly. "He wants order. Obedience. And if this scroll says something he doesn’t want to hear, he’ll burn it before he reads it.

A beat passed. Then Elion exhaled slowly and said, "So what do we do?"

Kaelith’s gaze didn’t waver. "We read it. Tonight. All of it."

"And if it confirms what we fear?"

Kaelith looked toward the stained glass window, beyond which Zarethrone slept still ignorant of the invisible noose tightening around its neck.

Then we decide whether to warn the kingdom or protect it from a truth it’s not ready to hear.

Elion gave a tight nod. Okay.

Kaelith reached out and gripped Elion’s forearm. "Thank you."

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