The Stowaway and the Captain
Copyright© 2025 by Rycliff
Chapter 16
The corridor outside the ballroom was lined with statues that pretended to be art and served, in truth, as reminders of power. Marble generals and carved saints of empire, faces stern, eyes empty. Light from the ballroom spilled across the floor in soft bands, but here the shadows were deeper.
The Emperor’s guard detail shifted with them, two moving ahead, two behind—close enough to protect, far enough to not be intrusive. They did not ask questions. They did not offer opinions. They watched every intersection and doorway as if expecting trouble.
Alliyanna led.
Not toward her quarters—those were watched.
Not toward Birsha’s study—those doors were locked behind more than steel.
She led toward the one place Birsha believed was safe because it belonged to him: the library.
The doors opened at her biometric touch. A soft hiss. A warm exhale of air scented with old paper, polished wood, and the faint mineral note of crystal-latticed walls.
The library was massive. Two stories, spiral staircases, balconies lined with shelves that stretched like a fortress of knowledge. The lighting here was softer than the ballroom’s glitter—lamps set low, glass shaded, meant for reading, not display.
Alliyanna felt her shoulders loosen by a fraction. This room had given her the tools to forge her trap.
The Emperor stepped inside and looked around with the reserved appreciation of a man who understood what a private library meant to a powerful House.
“You asked for privacy,” he said. “You have it. Briefly.”
Alliyanna nodded. She moved toward the far stacks—the oldest section, hidden in shadow, where the strange volumes sat bound in materials that didn’t behave like leather or cloth. She had found the book there by instinct or luck, and she had not returned often, afraid she would draw attention.
She reached into the dim shelf and touched the spine that seemed to absorb light.
The Void Awakens, and the Troubles Begin.
Her fingers tingled as she pulled it free.
The Emperor watched her return to a heavy reading table in a secluded nook. He did not sit. He stood, hands behind his back, posture calm and controlled. His guards remained near the doors.
Alliyanna set the book down carefully, as if it were fragile.
“It’s old,” she said.
The Emperor’s gaze stayed fixed on it. “Older than your Empire.”
“Yes.”
She opened it to a marked section—a page she’d memorized. The script swam slightly, as if the ink was alive, and her eyes had to adjust each time, but the meaning remained.
“This book isn’t about the court,” Alliyanna said. “It isn’t about Birsha. It isn’t even about Oranthe.”
The Emperor’s expression tightened. “Then why show it to me tonight?”
Alliyanna met his eyes. “Because I don’t think you came here tonight for a party.”
A beat.
Then the Emperor’s mouth twitched—almost a smile, but not warm.
“Continue.”
Alliyanna let out a quiet breath. She turned the book so he could see the illustrations: star systems marked in archaic coordinates, diagrams of barriers of light, passages describing civilizations that rose and fell like waves.
“This is a record,” she said. “Not myth. Not prophecy. A record of something that consumed worlds and had to be sealed away.”
The Emperor’s gaze flicked over the page. “And you believe it’s real.”
“I know it’s real,” Alliyanna said.
She could have told him about Luminara. About Xel’nara’s crystal city. About the anomaly that wasn’t an accident. But she didn’t yet. Not until she anchored him to something he could understand: evidence and risk.
The Emperor looked up from the page. “How do you know?”
Alliyanna hesitated, then chose her words.
“Because it found us,” she said. “And because someone else knew about it—long before I did.”
The Emperor’s gaze sharpened. “Who?”
Alliyanna turned to the second part of her burden.
She drew a thin data-slate from inside her gown’s hidden pocket. Not notes—she’d never risked notes. But she had memorized the key legal codes and referenced them in her mind until they lived there like scars. This slate held something else: a copy request token and access proof.
It was enough.
“I didn’t only study legends,” she said. “I studied law.”
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “Law.”
Alliyanna’s voice stayed calm. “The marriage contract Birsha claims gives him authority over me—my father signed it when I was thirteen.”
The Emperor’s face shifted—one fraction, but it was the shift of a man suddenly seeing a different shape of betrayal.
“Thirteen,” he repeated.
Alliyanna nodded. “Without Senate approval. Without independent representation. Without proper witnessing under Imperial Noble Marriage Statutes. It should have been void on its face.”
The Emperor’s hands tightened behind his back. “And yet it exists.”
“Yes,” Alliyanna said softly. “And it’s been used as a weapon.”
A sound echoed faintly down the corridor—a distant blast, muffled by walls. The Emperor’s guard captain glanced toward the doors.
The Emperor didn’t move.
“Alliyanna,” he said, the first time he used her name without title, “why are you telling me this tonight?”
Because she had no time left.
Because violence was already moving toward the ballroom.
Because Birsha’s hubris was in motion.
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