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🖤 The Villainess Just Wants to Sleep

Chapter 18: The Riddle Beneath the Throne

> “Some alliances are written in ink.

The strongest ones are carved in secrets.”

— Eastern Court Proverb

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It was an unusual summons.

An official request from King Aevan of Velmoria, a distant yet rising kingdom to the east. A nation of scholars and ancient temples, of riddles and buried truths.

The message was clear:

> “We seek Lady Kaelaira, daughter of the Empire, for her mastery of ancient script and translation. Her presence is humbly requested at the royal court of Velmoria.”

It bypassed the Crown Prince.

Bypassed the Queen.

Even the Empress hesitated.

The King allowed it — curious what this foreign monarch saw in the bastard-born girl.

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Kaelaira arrived at the court of Velmoria days later, cloaked in silver and silence, accompanied only by two guards.

The palace was carved from white stone and sapphire glass, and smelled of old scrolls, ink, and blooming moonroses.

King Aevan was young — only twenty-five — with clever eyes and fingers always turning a silver ring. He greeted Kaelaira with warmth… but not informality.

> “They say you read the dead languages like song.

I hope it’s true.”

Kaelaira bowed. “Truth does not need song, Your Majesty. But riddles… they do.”

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After the formal welcome, he brought her into the Hall of Silence, a private room sealed with runes.

He pulled out a scroll — ancient, worn, sealed in wax bearing the sigil of a dead king.

> “My father left this for me. No one has been able to solve it. Not scholars. Not seers. I believe it’s not just a riddle — but a key.”

Kaelaira took the scroll, careful with its age.

> “Why trust me?” she asked.

Aevan looked her in the eyes.

> “Because you don’t have power.

Which means you have no one’s agenda but your own.”

Kaelaira smiled faintly. “That’s what makes me dangerous.”

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She opened the scroll.

Symbols twisted across the parchment, written in Vellunian-Teric hybrid, a language dead for three centuries.

She read in silence. Minutes passed.

Then, softly, she whispered:

> “It’s a riddle disguised as a warning.

The true crown lies not on the head of the heir,

But beneath the altar of forgotten gods.

Blood opens stone.

Memory seals it shut.”

Aevan’s eyes widened.

> “You understood it.”

Kaelaira nodded. “Your father left you more than a crown. He left you a choice.”

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Then she carefully rolled the scroll and held it out to him.

> “I will keep this secret, as you ask.”

She looked him straight in the eye.

> “But only if you swear one thing.”

Aevan leaned forward. “Name it.”

> “One day,” she said, voice quiet but firm,

“when I call upon you —

in court, or shadow, or war —

you will not hesitate to stand beside me.”

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The young king smiled.

> “You speak like someone who already sees kingdoms in motion.”

Kaelaira smiled back.

> “I don’t want kingdoms.

But I might need one.”

He extended his hand.

> “Then the bargain is struck.”

Their hands touched — alliance formed, secret sealed.

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As she left Velmoria, the scroll returned to its hiding place, Kaelaira whispered in her carriage:

> “A blade hidden in ink.

A king who owes me.

And no one in the Empire knows.”

Then she smiled — not the practiced one.

> The real one.

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End of Chapter 18

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