Chapter 4: The Crescent Pendant
The silver gleam of the crescent pendant haunted me long after the figure had vanished into the hedges.
The Obsidian Circle.
A name that had once lived only in shadows, passed through whispers between frightened nobles and silenced scholars. A myth, they had said. A ghost story. An ancient order of cursed bloodlines—keepers of dark magic, assassins, and enforcers of a prophecy so forbidden that even the royal archives had erased its existence.
But I knew they were real.
I had the scars to prove it.
They had come for me in the past. When I got too close to the truth. When I tried to defy the fate they had carefully crafted from behind the curtain.
And now they were here again—before I had even begun to interfere.
Which meant one thing.
Someone already suspected I wasn't just a clever girl with a noble name.
Someone knew I had returned.
---
At dawn, I sent Elora to fetch the palace mapmaker and requested an updated floor plan of the royal gardens. It was a strange request for a betrothed noblewoman, but I cloaked it in vague interest for planning a potential wedding ceremony beneath the stars.
Let them believe I still cared about such nonsense.
In truth, I wanted to know where the shadows ran deepest. I needed to trace the paths the assassin might have taken, and more importantly, where he had disappeared to.
Elora brought back the map along with her usual tray of tea and letters. Her face was drawn tight with worry.
"I heard the northern stables were locked down last night," she said carefully, setting the tray on the table near the window. "Some say a thief tried to enter the restricted quarters."
I didn't answer right away. My mind whirred.
"Were there any injuries?" I asked.
"One guard knocked unconscious. Nothing stolen."
They were testing the perimeter. Looking for entry points. Watching.
My time was shorter than I'd realized.
I spread the map out before me and circled the area where I had seen the pendant gleam—near the Moonshade Fountain at the eastern corner of the gardens. Behind it lay a hedge maze, and beyond that, the servant's tunnels that snaked through the underbelly of the palace.
It wasn't a coincidence. The assassin hadn't come for a leisurely stroll.
He had either been sent to watch me…
Or silence me.
---
That afternoon, I received an invitation from the Empress Dowager.
A silk scroll bearing her personal seal, delicate and ruthless like the woman herself. She rarely summoned nobles outside of state events. I'd met her only a handful of times in my previous life, and even then, our relationship had been polite but distant.
She had never liked me. I was too outspoken, too clever, too proud.
And too much like her younger self.
Elora helped me dress in a formal lavender gown with high lace collars and crystal cuffs. I wore no jewelry except a simple sapphire ring—the same one Kaelith had given me in the first timeline as a betrothal gift.
I hadn't accepted it yet in this life.
But I kept it anyway.
Like a weapon.
---
The Empress Dowager's sitting room was fragrant with rose oil and sun-warmed parchment. She reclined on a velvet chaise, her silver hair swept back into a tight braid that gleamed like steel. Her eyes, sharp and gray, studied me over the rim of her teacup.
"You've grown taller," she said.
I curtsied. "And less agreeable, I'm told."
She let out a short laugh. "I see your tongue has grown sharper too."
"Only when it needs to."
She gestured for me to sit.
I did.
"I've been hearing things," she said. "Whispers about the Lady of Virell returning to court with a new spine."
I tilted my head. "I didn't know my spine was missing."
"It was... pliable," she said, swirling her tea. "Like most girls in love."
I said nothing.
She continued, her tone sharper now. "You think I'm your enemy. But I never was. I simply knew what you did not."
"And what is that, Your Grace?"
She fixed me with a gaze that could peel flesh from bone.
"That Kaelith Vortem is a man with no heart. And that marrying him will break you."
Her words struck deeper than I expected.
She had hated my engagement in the first life. Had advised against it behind closed doors, even warned me once—before I called her jealous and cruel.
She hadn't been wrong.
Only... too late.
"Then why let the match continue?" I asked.
She sipped slowly. "Because breaking it now would weaken the Vortem line. The empire is fragile. War looms in the north. The people need unity."
"Even if it means feeding one girl to the wolves?"
She smiled thinly. "Better one girl than an entire kingdom."
I leaned forward. "And what if that girl refuses to be devoured?"
She raised a brow. "Then perhaps she's not a lamb."
---
I left the Dowager's chambers shaken, not because of fear—but because she had always been three steps ahead of everyone else.
If she was wary of Kaelith, then perhaps there was hope.
Perhaps I was not alone in this silent war.
---
I spent the next two days walking the halls of the palace, visiting the conservatory, the east library, the tower kitchens—all under the guise of re-acquainting myself with the court.
In truth, I was watching. Listening. Mapping routes. Marking weaknesses.
I discovered that Countess Mirei now had a secret lover from the southern baronies.
That Duke Halveren had been meeting in private with the high council's military advisor.
And that Kaelith himself had dismissed his personal steward last night—no reason given.
All of it small pieces. None of it fitting together.
Until that night, when I received a letter slipped beneath my door.
It was not sealed. Not signed.
Just a single piece of parchment, rough and smelling faintly of burnt wax.
The Circle watches. You walk in the wrong timeline. Be still, or be undone.
---
My heart raced as I read the words again and again.
They knew.
Not just that I was different—but that I wasn't supposed to be here.
The Circle hadn't just returned—they were aware of the shift. Aware that time had bent, that something ancient and powerful had undone fate.
And they feared it.
Which meant I had a weapon they didn't understand.
Me.
I burned the letter in my hearth and stayed awake until dawn, planning.
---
The next morning, Kaelith summoned me again. This time to the training grounds.
I dressed in a tunic and riding pants—scandalous for a lady, but I no longer cared. When I arrived, I found him sparring with a younger officer, sweat glistening across his brow, his sword arm unrelenting.
He defeated the man in three strokes.
Then turned to me.
"You came," he said, chest rising with effort.
"You're rather fond of summoning me lately," I replied.
"Because you intrigue me."
I raised a brow. "I wasn't aware that was a virtue in brides."
"It isn't," he said simply. "But it's what keeps them alive."
He tossed me a wooden practice sword.
I caught it with one hand, eyes narrowing.
"You wish to spar?"
"I wish to see if your bite matches your bark."
I stepped into the ring.
---
The match was brutal.
Kaelith didn't hold back.
Neither did I.
We circled, struck, blocked, dodged. Wood cracked against wood. Dust rose. My arms burned. My breath hitched.
But I held my own.
And when I finally disarmed him with a brutal feint and kick, he stared at me—not with anger, but with something far worse.
Curiosity.
Admiration.
Even... desire.
"You're full of surprises," he said, rising from the dirt.
I didn't smile. "You haven't seen anything yet."
He stepped closer, sword forgotten. "Tell me something true."
"No."
He blinked.
"No?"
I stepped past him. "You had your chance at truth, Kaelith. You lost it the day you chose power over me."
His face darkened. "I haven't chosen anything yet."
"Yes, you have. You always do."
I walked away, leaving him in the ring alone.
But as I rounded the corner, I paused.
Because for the first time since returning, I felt it.
The timeline shifting.
As if something fundamental had cracked.
As if I had changed something important.
---
Back in my chambers, I opened the hidden drawer in my writing desk and unrolled the parchment list.
I added a new line under Kaelith's name.
He is starting to feel.
And beneath that:
Use it. Before it's too late.