Page 23 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

I left before they could thank me.

Outside, my hands shook so badly that I had to brace myself against the wall. I retreated to the treeline and waited, forcing myself to watch.

The father came out first, scanning the road before ushering one boy forward, bundled in a cloak too large for him. The mother followed with the other, clutched tight to her chest. The boys wrapped themselves around each other, sobbing and refusing to let go. The parents had to pry them apart, and then they set off in opposite directions until both were swallowed by the dark.

That was the last time I tried to follow orders. Every mission since has been the same. The same outcome, the same lie, the same devastation. And every time I wait in the dark, watching until they disappear, terrified they won’t follow my instructions, and even more terrified Father will discover what I’ve done. Not for myself, but because he’ll simply finish what I refused to do.

The Caldwell boys are gone, sent in opposite directions before dawn. My hands are still shaking as I make my way back through Terrath, knowing there was no version of that family that stayed whole.

Uninvited, the words surface, like always.

When four lie broken and one stands alone,

Blood must spill upon the sacred stone.

Two born together carry the key,

For Ether to reunite earth, flame, wind, and sea.

A seer’s prophecy. A handful of lines that have ruined more lives than any blade.

Two born together. Twins.

I don’t know when the seer first spoke them, only that Father heard them, and everything changed. The words loop in my head, hollow and insistent. I’ve turned them over more times than I can count, searching for whatever truth Father sees in them, whatever justifies this. I’ve never found it.

I asked him once, early on, what it meant and why it mattered. I’d never seen his face change like that before—not anger or calculation, it was something far colder. What followed wasn’t a conversation; it was a lesson. I never asked again.

The people don’t know the prophecy. There was never a decree, no law written in ink, but enough children vanished that the fear took root anyway. Families learned to hide, to lie, to send their twins away to different corners of the realm and hope no one noticed.

I walk on, lost in the words, the night already thinning at the edges, and the sky is paling too early for comfort. I pull my hood lower and press through Terrath’s outskirts.

Then movement catches my eye.

A figure slides down the side of a building with practiced ease, hands finding stone without hesitation. They’re in dark clothes, with a mask covering the bottom half of their face, and a satchel riding their hip. The way they move is so quiet and fluid.

My pulse stutters. It can’t be.

Tonight is not the night to risk being seen, but I move toward her anyway.

Chapter 6

Gemira

“Why, hello, little fox.”

I spin with a knife in my hand in an instant.

“Ryewood, we need to stop meeting like this.”

I feel the smile in my voice, and warmth blooms, settling behind my ribs.

“And yet here we are,” he says, amusement threading through his words. “You make a habit of scaling buildings in the middle of the night?”

“Only the ones worth climbing,” I say as I take him in. “Once again, Ryewood, out in attire unbefitting your station. Even the spare deserves better than these rags.”

“It’s nothing worth talking about.” His tone is casual, but his eyes say otherwise. “Are you finally going to show me that face of yours, little fox?”

My mouth curves beneath the covering. “Oh, Ryewood. We’ve already established we can’t have you running to Daddy about my nighttime work, now can we?”