The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 145

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The next two days unfolded like a perfectly orchestrated illusion, each hour carefully crafted by Caleb with precision, patience, and a level of control that masked the storm raging beneath his calm exterior.

To the outside world Nothing had changed.

He attended meetings.

He walked the halls of the palace with composed authority.

He stood beside his father during council discussions, listening, observing, contributing just enough to maintain the image of the obedient crown prince.

And most importantly-

He played his role.

Flawlessly.

With Sonia, he was attentive-but not too much.

Interested-but never invested.

He allowed her to believe she was winning him over, feeding her just enough attention to keep her satisfied, to keep her guard down, while carefully watching every move, every word, every glance she exchanged with others.

Because she was not alone.

Of that, he was certain.

The council…

They were trickier.

Some showed subtle shifts in behavior.

Others remained perfectly composed.

Too composed.

Caleb noted everything.

Who spoke first.

Who supported Sonia’s claims too eagerly.

Who avoided eye contact when certain topics were raised.

Every detail was stored.

Every pattern analyzed.

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Claim

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And his father-

That was the hardest part.

Because King William remained… himself.

Strong.

Commanding.

Sharp.

And yet-

There were moments.

Brief.

Almost imperceptible.

Where something felt… off.

A hesitation.

A slight change in tone.

A decision made just a second too quickly or too slow.

Caleb noticed.

Of course he did.

And each time-

It reinforced his resolve.

Hold on, he told himself again and again. Just a little longer.

Because everything depended on timing.

On precision.

On not alerting the enemy before he was ready to strike.

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Even Chaos, restless and furious inside him, was forced into uneasy silence under Caleb’s iron control.

Soon, Caleb promised him. We end this soon.

By the third day-

Everything was in place.

The tension in Caleb’s body had reached its peak, stretched thin by the constant restraint, by the careful balancing act he had maintained for forty-eight hours straight.

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But he held.

Because today-

He would get what he needed.

Melissandre.

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The thought alone pushed him forward as he left the palace under the guise of routine business meetings, his expression neutral, his movements unhurried, giving nothing away.

But the moment he stepped inside the hidden room again-

He knew.

The air felt different.

Heavier.

Drained.

Melissandre stood near the table, her posture slightly slumped, her usually sharp presence dulled by visible exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes, her hands faintly trembling from the effort of what she had done.

On the table-

A small vial rested.

Clear.

Still.

Deceptively simple.

But Caleb could feel the power within it.

The answer.

Finally.

“You pushed yourself,” Caleb said, his voice lower now, carrying a note of acknowledgment as he stepped closer.

Melissandre let out a weak breath, a faint, tired smirk touching her lips.

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