“When your assumptions prove wrong, and they will prove wrong, remember that you chose this path,” I counter.
He inclines his head in a precise bow, then turns and strides from the hall. His guards fall into formation behind him, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they make their way toward the courtyard.
We remain motionless, listening to the sounds of departure. Horses whinny in the courtyard. Harness leather creaks as guards mount up. Voices call orders back and forth. Only when the clatter of hooves on stone fades into the distance do we allow ourselves to breathe again.
The silence stretches between us, electric and charged.
BRAITH
Three days later, the bone crow perches on the war room windowsill, its message tube gleaming red in the morning light. I watch Kiakoa break the wax seal, his face changing as he reads the parchment inside.
“What is it?”
“Border breach at the eastern pass.” He crumples the message, jaw tightening. “Three scouts dead. Enemy forces moving toward the Valajoki settlements.”
My stomach drops. “Civilians?”
“Hundreds. Families, children, elders who can't flee fast enough.” His hands curl into fists. “The message says they have maybe hours before the attack reaches them.”
Captain Morris appears in the doorway, armor clattering as he hurries into the war room. “My lord, the patrol reports?—”
“I've seen it.” Kiakoa moves to the weapon rack, selecting a sword that's seen recent use. “Ready twenty for immediate departure. Full combat gear.”
“All twenty, sir? That leaves castle defensesthin?—”
“Children are dying while we debate numbers.” He straps on armor designed for speed rather than ceremony. “The remaining guards maintain full alertness. No one enters or leaves without challenge.”
Morris nods and disappears to rally the men. I watch Kiakoa finish his preparations, unease crawling up my spine.
“Something feels wrong about this,” I say.
“Everything feels wrong about it. The timing, the target, the convenient arrival just as we planned our next moves.” He crosses to me, hands framing my face. “But I can't let innocents die while we wonder if it's a trap.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Four hours to reach them. Maybe six if we have to chase stragglers through the forest.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “Lock the doors behind me. Stay in the inner chambers. The old portal network has been dead for decades, so no one can simply appear inside our walls. If anything feels wrong—anything at all—retreat to my chamber and wait.”
“I will.”
But the promise tastes bitter in my mouth.
His kiss carries desperation and copper, as if he's already expecting violence. “I love you,” he says against my mouth.
The words stop my breath. He's never said them before.
“I love you too.”
He holds me for another heartbeat, then forces himself to step back. “I'll return by sunset.”
I watch from the highest tower as his party rides out. Twenty guards in formation, weapons ready, moving fast across the twisted landscape. When they disappear beyond the ridge, the castle feels suddenly vast around me.
The shadow servants cluster closer than usual, their forms flickering between solid and translucent. One actually manages to touch my shoulder, offering comfort through smoky fingers that maintain substance for several seconds.
“Keep watch,” I tell them. “All approaches, all entrances. Alert me to anything unusual.”
They scatter throughout the castle, drifting through walls to take up positions at every possible entry point. The remaining guards—maybe eight total—maintain their posts at gates and strategic corridors.
The first hour passes quietly. I review defensive protocols with the skeleton crew, check supplies, coordinate patrol routes for the reduced manpower. Normal activities that fail to ease the knot in my chest.
