Most importantly, she would stop reacting long enough to make them underestimate her.
Rhen expected panic. He expected resistance he could crush and mistakes he could contain.
She would give him neither.
Veya rose and approached the door again, though she did not touch the handle. Instead, she studied the old metal lock, the hinges, the narrow gap beneath the heavy wood, and the faint flow of air carrying scents and movement from the corridor beyond.
When she closed her eyes, footsteps passed somewhere to the left. There was only one person, heavy and unhurried. Farther away, another door opened and shut, followed by the movement of fabric and someone murmuring words too low for her to separate.
She listened until the compound began arranging itself into distance and direction.
When Veya opened her eyes, her thoughts were clearer.
She would not trade one cage for another, and she would not mistake the first trace of civility for safety or cling to the first person who spoke without contempt.
Nothing in this place had earned her trust.
Not Rhen.
Not Sule.
Not the unseen brothers moving beyond the walls.
Trust could wait.
Information could not.
She stepped away from the door and returned to the center of the room.
Rhen had taken her choice once, but he would not take every choice that followed.
Veya lifted her chin and made the decision quietly.
She would obey long enough to survive, watch long enough to understand, and learn enough to stop being helpless.
If this new life was going to be a war, she would choose—at least once—where she aimed her teeth.
Chapter 15
At sundown the following evening, they carried Leena through the inner grounds.
No announcement had been made beyond the stronghold. No council members waited beneath the trees, and no curious civilians crowded the gates to witness the queen’s burial. Only those she had loved were permitted inside the wards.
The old royal crypt stood beyond the far edge of her garden, half concealed by ivy and climbing roses she had planted with her own hands. Lanterns burned along the stone path, their flames bending beneath a wind too slight to disturb anything else.
Leena lay inside a black stone coffin dressed in white, her dark hair arranged over her shoulders and her hands folded peacefully above her abdomen. Death had removed the pain from her face but left behind a stillness none of them could mistake for sleep.
Sule walked beside her.
He carried Norse against his chest beneath a white blanket, one hand supporting the child’s head while the other remained pressed against the coffin as though he could guide Leena by touch.
Dax, Cole, and Malakai followed behind him.
Rhen came last.
He had not spoken since they left the stronghold. Black clothing concealed the final traces of Leena’s blood, but nothing could conceal what her absence had done to him.
Inside the crypt, Sule placed Norse briefly into Mary’s waiting arms before approaching the coffin.
