S1 E6: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1245227845/ S1 E8: next Wednesday ♤Ep 7 Sn 1♤ The courtyard had never felt so still. Black banners hung from the castle walls, fluttering gently in the breeze. The Queen’s casket rested at the center of the garden, surrounded by white lilies and silver roses. Nobles, guards, and servants stood in rows, dressed in muted colors, heads bowed. Thessa stood near the back with Mira and Lira, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes drifting. The speaker’s voice was soft, reverent, echoing through the courtyard as he spoke of legacy, honor, and loss. But Thessa wasn’t really listening. She was trying to stay respectful, but her mind kept wandering—her feet ached, the sun was too bright, and the speech was long. Mira shifted beside her, clearly bored. Lira was mouthing the words to a hymn she didn’t know. Thessa glanced across the crowd—and spotted him. Ceal stood near the front, in uniform, posture straight, face solemn. His friends were beside him, whispering quietly, nudging him when they noticed Thessa looking. Ceal turned, caught her gaze, and smiled just a little. Then he raised his hand in a small wave. Thessa blinked, surprised—but smiled back and gave a soft wave in return. Just a flick of her fingers. Then she turned her head back toward the speaker, her smile lingering for a moment before fading into the quiet. The Queen’s funeral continued. But for Thessa, the moment had already passed—and it had meant something.
The dinner hall was dimly lit, candles flickering in tall silver holders, casting soft shadows across the long tables. The air was heavy—not just with grief, but with the kind of silence that comes after something big. Everyone was dressed in muted colors, speaking in hushed tones, picking at their food more than eating it. Thessa sat near the end of one of the servant tables, Mira and Lira on either side of her. Mira was whispering something about one of the nobles’ ridiculous hats, and Lira kept sneaking bites of dessert before the main course was even cleared. Thessa smiled, but her mind was elsewhere. She knew Ceal was here. She’d seen him walk in earlier, dressed in his formal uniform, hair combed back, looking way too good for someone who was supposed to be mourning. Her heart had done that stupid flutter thing again, and now she was pretending she hadn’t noticed him at all. She hadn’t looked his way once. Not even when she heard his laugh from across the room. Not even when Mira nudged her and whispered, “He’s totally looking over here.” Thessa just kept her eyes on her plate, poking at her potatoes like they held the secrets of the universe. She wanted to talk to him. She really did. But what if it was awkward? What if he didn’t feel the same anymore? What if he was just being nice before? So she stayed quiet. Stayed still. Until— “Hey.” She looked up. Ceal stood beside her table, hands in his pockets, eyes soft. He looked nervous. Just a little. “I was wondering if you were gonna say hi,” he said, smiling. Thessa blinked. “I didn’t want to bother you.” “You wouldn’t,” he said. “I was kinda hoping you’d come talk to me.” She felt her cheeks warm. Mira and Lira were suddenly very interested in their drinks. “Well,” Thessa said, trying to sound casual, “hi.” Ceal laughed. “Hi.” They stood there for a second, not saying much, just smiling like they didn’t know what to do next. Then someone called Ceal’s name from across the room, and he glanced over his shoulder. “I should probably get back,” he said. “But I’m really glad you’re here.” Thessa nodded. “Me too.” He gave her one last smile, then walked off, disappearing into the crowd. --- The past few days had blurred together. The castle was still heavy with grief, but life didn’t stop. Chores had to be done, patrols had to be walked, and everyone had to pretend they weren’t still thinking about the Queen’s funeral. Thessa had been busy—laundry, deliveries, polishing silver that hadn’t been touched in years. Mira kept her laughing, Lira kept her distracted, but her thoughts kept drifting back to one person. Ceal. She saw him almost every day now. Sometimes in the garden wing, sometimes near the main hall, once even in the kitchens when he was escorting a noble through the servant corridors. He was always in uniform, always focused, always moving like he had somewhere important to be. But every time she saw him, he’d glance her way. And every time, she’d wave. Just a small wave. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to say, *I see you.* And he’d wave back. Sometimes with a smile, sometimes with that tired look that said he’d been up since dawn. But he always noticed her. Always responded. They never really talked. There wasn’t time. She had trays to carry, he had orders to follow. The castle was too busy, too loud, too full of people who might ask questions. But those little moments—those passing glances, those quiet waves—they meant something. And Thessa felt it. Even if she couldn’t say it out loud.
