The sun rose slowly over Valemire Palace, gilding the towers in gold and crimson. The gardens blood in carefully curated chaos , vines trained to look wild, roses bred to bleed red and white, and fountains that sang lullabies when no one was listening.
At the center of this illusion stood Queen Dowager Lilian, her face serene, eyes unreadable, as she snipped the stem of a rare violet-black blossom. Her attendants stood at a distance, unused to such silence from her. It was the silence of control. Of strategy.
A shadow passed over the path.
"Still tending poison with such grace," Lucien said, his voice cold as the morning dew.
Lilian did not look up. "The right poison, dear, can be dicine in a clever hand."
Lucien stepped closer, bootheels tapping over marble. "You always preferred trimming flowers to nding kingdoms."
"I preferred peace," she said. "But peace is tedious. So I settled for pruning threats."
He circled her now, watching the way her hands moved, delicate, precise. Deadly.
"And was I a threat too?" he asked, pausing by a statue of the first king. "Or was it my wife who threatened your legacy?"
Lilian finally looked up. "Your wife was foolish. She wandered too far into truths she could not carry."
Lucien’s breath caught, but he didn’t flinch. "So you burned her alive."
Her gaze flickered, just for a mont. "Accidents happen when fire plays with secrets."
He stepped closer. "And Liora? Will she burn too?"
A small smile played on her lips. "Ah. So she’s begun rembering."
Lucien froze.
Lilian leaned in, lowering her voice. "You think I didn’t recognize the girl you brought into your ruined house? I knew the mont she arrived. That hair. That fire. The blood in her voice."
"You knew?" he whispered.
"She was never ant to survive the culling. But fate, as you know, is fond of irony." She stepped past him, dropping the flower into his hand. "What will you do now, Lucien? Protect her? Or use her, as all kings do?"
Lucien said nothing. The petals in his palm were soft ,and stained red.
Later that evening...
Liora sat in her room, the dagger wrapped in cloth and hidden beneath a loose stone. Her fingers still tingled from the energy it had passed to her. Her dreams whispered strange things now a girl on fire, a boy with broken chains, and a tower that crumbled into the sea.
A knock ca.
She rose, cautious. Opened it.
Lucien stood there, eyes shadowed and unreadable. "We need to talk."
She nodded once, stepping aside.
But neither of them knew outside, in the trees just beyond the courtyard, a silver arrow had been notched and aid.
A quiet voice whispered:"When the king falls, the fla must die with him."
Liora led Lucien inside, closing the door behind them with a soft thud. The flickering candlelight danced on the stone walls, casting long shadows across her face and his. They stood in silence for a mont the kind that clung to skin like cold fog.
He looked tired. Tired in a way she hadn’t seen before not just battle-worn, but soul-wearied.
"I t with the queen dowager today," Lucien said finally, his voice low.
Liora tensed. "She summoned you?"
"No," he said, stepping further into the room, "I sought her out. I needed answers. About... everything."
She didn’t ask what he ant because part of her already knew.
Lucien t her gaze. "She knew who you were from the mont you stepped into the palace."
Liora’s lips parted, but no sound ca. Her hands instinctively found each other, fingers wringing.
"She said you weren’t ant to survive. That there was a... culling," he continued. "What did she an by that?"
Liora shook her head, slowly. "I don’t know. But I keep seeing things. In my dreams. A girl like . Fire. Chains. A fall from sowhere high. I thought they were just dreams but now... I don’t think they are."
Lucien stared at her. "Recollections?"
"I don’t know." Her voice cracked. "There’s a dagger I found it hums. Like it’s alive. When I held it... it was like sothing inside lit up."
Lucien walked to her side, pausing a breath away. "You’re connected to this. To everything. My disgrace. My wife’s death. The revolt. You were in it sohow, not just a bystander. But a piece of the story soone tried to erase."
She looked up at him, and for the first ti, didn’t see just a disgraced prince she saw the storm inside him. The one he wore like armor. The one she had begun to feel cracking.
"You think I’m a threat?" she asked.
Lucien’s jaw clenched. "No. I think you’re a key."
Before she could answer, a sharp whistle cut through the air.
Lucien moved instantly, grabbing her and pulling her to the floor just as glass shattered behind them.
An arrow lodged in the stone where her head had been.
He didn’t hesitate his sword was drawn in a second. The door burst open as Rowan appeared, bloodied and furious. "They’re here. Assassins. Three of them. I took down one."
Lucien helped Liora up, his eyes burning with rage. "Stay with her," he barked at Rowan. "No one lays a hand on her."
He disappeared into the shadows with the fury of a storm god.
Rowan locked the door behind him. "You alright?" he asked.
Liora nodded, still shaken. Her pulse thudded in her throat.
She touched the mark on her palm where the dagger had burned her days ago.
It pulsed again.
Sothing was awakening.
Not just inside the palace.
Inside her.
The palace corridors were no longer silent.
Lucien moved like a shadow, his sword slick with the blood of the first assassin who’d dared cross his path. He wasn’t dressed for battle only in a dark linen shirt and boots but the fire in his eyes more than made up for it.
He turned the corner just as the second attacker leapt from the upper balcony.
Lucien didn’t flinch. He caught the man’s arm mid-air, twisting it violently until bone snapped and the blade clattered to the marble.
The assassin gasped too late.
Lucien buried his sword into the man’s chest, eyes unmoving as the body slumped to the floor. Blood spilled fast, pooling beneath them.
Footsteps echoed behind.
Lucien spun but it was Edgar, panting, eyes wild. "Prince! The third assassin’s escaped through the northern garden. I’ve already dispatched the guards..."
"No," Lucien said sharply, wiping his blade on the fallen man’s cloak. "He’s not getting away."
He raced down the hall, faster than thought, boots thundering across the ground. Every step was fury. Every breath, vengeance.
The northern gardens stretched like a ghost’s dream silver leaves under moonlight, statues of long-dead kings standing guard.
Lucien spotted the figure sprinting toward the back wall, cloak flapping.
He whistled.
A black arrow flew past him.
It pierced the man’s thigh.
The assassin fell with a strangled cry, dragging himself through the rose beds. Lucien approached slowly, sword gleaming.
"Who sent you?" he asked, voice like frostbite.
The man spat blood. "She... she said you’d ruin it all. That the girl would awaken what should remain dead."
Lucien crouched beside him, steel pressed to the man’s throat. "What girl?"
"The concubine... the bastard girl..."
Lucien’s fist connected with his jaw, silencing him.
"Give her na. Say it."
The man laughed, teeth stained crimson. "She’s not who you think. And you...you’re not the heir."
Lucien’s blade slid in like a whisper.
When it was done, he stood slowly, breath shaking. He didn’t even know if it was rage anymore or the gnawing dread that everything was spiraling beyond his control.
He turned.
Queen Dowager Lilian stood at the garden’s edge, shrouded in a cloak of blue silk.
"Quite the ss, Lucien," she said, voice cool.
He didn’t lower his sword. "How long have you been watching?"
"Long enough to confirm my suspicions," she replied. "They’re not after you. Not truly. They’re after her."
He stepped closer. "What do you know?"
"I know you’re in far more danger than you realize. And so is she." She paused. "Liora is more than the girl they traded for a title. She is sothing ancient. Sothing buried."
Lucien’s brows furrowed.
"She’s a living remnant of the rebellion that never died. And if she awakens fully..." Lilian’s eyes darkened. "You may not be able to stop what cos next."
Liora sat in the quiet of her chambers, wrapped in a blanket, though the room wasn’t cold. Her hands trembled as she stared at the dagger Lucien had returned to her earlier. Its hilt was plain, yet when her fingers grazed it, the air whispered secrets.
She didn’t tell him. Not yet. Not about the vision.Not about the fire.Not about the na that echoed in her skull.... Aerenya.
The na ant nothing to her ... and yet it felt like it belonged to her bones.
She’d tried to sleep, but every ti her eyes closed, she saw the silhouette of a woman kneeling before flas, her back straight as soldiers dragged her children away. That woman’s face shimred between Evelyne’s and her own.
A knock rapped twice. "It’s ," Lucien’s voice ca.
She opened the door.
His shirt was torn at the shoulder, and blood streaked his sleeve. She stepped back in shock. "You’re hurt."
"It’s not mine," he said quietly. But he didn’t move.
She stared at him. His eyes, usually carved from granite, were unsteady ...not frightened, but unsure.
"What happened?"
He entered the room, gaze flicking to the dagger on the table. "You’re not safe here anymore."
Her heart stuttered. "Why?"
"Three n were sent to kill . One got away. I caught him before he could flee. But it’s you they want."
She froze. "Why would anyone want dead?"
He looked at her like he didn’t want to answer. But finally, he said, "Because of sothing buried. Sothing inside you."
"I’m not anyone. I’m not even supposed to be here, Lucien. I was never ant to..."
"No." His voice was sharp now. "Don’t say that again. You are here, and that ans everything."
She turned away. "The dagger. It’s showing things. Won burning. A na. Aerenya."
Lucien’s mouth tightened. "The man said the sa. Called you a remnant. Said you would awaken sothing."
She swallowed hard. "Do you believe them?"
"I don’t know what to believe." He walked toward her, slower now. "But I know you’re not just a pawn. I’ve seen how you survive. You’re more than what they made you."
His hand reached for hers.
She looked up at him, her voice a whisper. "Will you stay if I beco sothing you can’t protect?"
He leaned in, just close enough that she could feel his breath. "Then I’ll beco sothing that can."
They stood there in silence, hearts pounding against the storm brewing beyond their skin.
Until the wind blew the chamber’s window open and the dagger on the table pulsed once, glowing faintly.
Liora’s eyes snapped to it.
Lucien stepped between her and the blade.
And the shadows on the wall no longer looked like their own.
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