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When her father learned of her disloyalty, he had threatened them, not her. The king was well aware of what her brothers meant to her—especially after they’d lost Micah, Ivan and Silas simultaneously. To lose another would have broken Areanel’s heart, so she had accepted her punishment without complaint. As she deserved.

Areanel hadn’t been able to save the eldest of her brothers, but she could save the rest. Couldn’t she?

‘I felt the same unending void when I was sentenced down there.’ Areanel tried to mask the way her voice wavered, but she could tell by the softness in Percival’s eyes that she was failing. It was not the usual sure and calm tone she always used; instead, it felt full of terror. Her gaze darted from his look of pity and latched once again on that portrait of her family. Nails dug into her shaking palms as she rushed to cover the welling emotions that clogged her throat. ‘It’s part of the punishment, you know. The entire cavern—it’s made of Ikarus stone, the very same material that the Mortas and Lexx Clans of the north fashioned their swords from. The jagged weapons that the little girl mentioned in Vennedove… I fear she meant Ikarus weapons. And if that is true, then…’ Areanel couldn’t find it in herself to finish her thought. Her ribs suddenly felt like an iron cage was tightening itself around her chest, making her fight for each breath.

‘If what you’re saying is true. Then the Northern Clans are responsible for Ivan’s death. Our brother was betrayed!’

Percival’s voice was beginning to rise, and Areanel’s head whipped to the closed door. She hoped no one had heard him. Accusations such as these had a way of distorting public opinion, and Areanel did not wish others to see this as an opportunity.

‘Percy, hear me out. The fire at the village… I don’t think this was a coincidence. I learned that the Chieftain of Vennedove allowed them to use the village as a waypoint. If we can find the chieftain or a rebel, perhaps they will lead us to more. I will finally be able to put these rumours of Tar-Angulócë to rest and take care of the rebels in one fell swoop. Help me find them. Please, brother.’ Areanel wouldn’t know what to do if her confidant didn’t trust her word.

‘Very well.’ Percival gestured around the office. ‘Did you search this study?’ Areanel still refused to touch Ivan’s belongings. She did not want to desecrate the last place left of her brother.

‘No?’

‘Come now, sister. It hasn’t been that long since we’ve been down here! Over there by the cabinet beneath the Royal Seal.’ He raised his chin, pointing to the solid, wooden cabinet behind the large desk.

Areanel looked over her shoulder, puzzled, and examined the craftsmanship of the delicate carvings in the dark wood. ‘The cabinet?’

There was a flicker of a memory—of her sitting on a wooden desk before the cabinet, tiny legs swinging back and forth, listening intently as a raspy male’s voice read in short, sharp wheezes from a novel laid out in his lap and the sound of a quill scratching against parchment as another male jotted down his thoughts in a diary.

‘Oh, come on now, Areanel. You can’t have forgotten our hiding place. We used to come down here all the time with Ivan and the others. Don’t you remember?’ Percival quipped, swaggering around the too-large desk and towards the cabinet. How could she have forgotten their favourite spot to hide when they played as children? ‘Ivan used to tell us to hide so he could find us, and when he did—’

‘He’d catch us and toss us up in the air,’ Areanel finished, and both chuckled at the joyful memory.

‘We used to pack ourselves into this small office when mother and father had their particularly bad arguments,’ Percival added as though the good couldn’t be remembered without the gloom of the bad.

A shiver, ice-cold and wicked, slithered up her spine at the mention of their parents’ arguments. Areanel did not want to think about those particularly bad ones, as Percival put it. She hated remembering their mother in that way. She hadn’t been the cruel and evil person everyone made her out to be. Areanel witnessed her caring nature at times—never towards her—but Queen Vada had always been soft-hearted where Ivan and Silas were concerned.

She watched passively as Percival tugged at the cabinet door’s circular handle. When it did not open, she reached around him and waved her hand over the lock, muttering a quiet spell, Làta Fende. The air buzzed where she had waved her hand, and with a blue spark, the door oscillated open with a bang, hitting the wall.

‘Maybe next time, you might want to try kicking the door down…’ Areanel threw Percival an unimpressed look. She had pressed her lips together to stifle her laugh when he continued, ‘It would have made less noise.’

‘Was that a joke, Percival? How very un-prince-like of you. What would our dear old father think?’ Feigning disdain, she placed a hand against her heart.

Smirking, they examined the contents of the cabinet. Scrolls littered the shelves haphazardly. Then, darkness encased the inside of the cabinet, and Areanel realised the candle she had been using had fizzled into a flickering flame. She called upon that lingering beast within her chest, and with a sliver of her power, lit the candles along the marble desk, which sat just behind them in the centre of the room. Buzzing electricity sizzled at her fingertips with every candle lit, and once light brightened the small area, Areanel clearly saw the dust and cobwebs that had collected over the years. The room looked desolate. Were it not for the Royal insignia above the cabinet behind the desk, Areanel would not have believed this room was part of the castle.

How long had it been since Ivan had died? Nothing had changed. She could only remember flashes spent in this room with her brothers during childhood. Nothing from after she had been thrown into the barracks alone. How old had she been then? Ten, maybe? Percival hadn’t been with her. It was the only time she had been separated from her twin.

‘I barely remember the last time we were all here together.’

‘Do not worry. It was a long time ago. I used to come here with Ivan often. He loved showing me our history. He told me this was where Mother—’

‘Percival,’ Areanel interrupted before he could continue. ‘Don’t speak of her!’ A dark storm hung between them, but it was more for Areanel. Remorse. Regret. Guilt. It was all too much. An overwhelming wave that kept crashing against her again and again.

‘Sorry. I just… sometimes wish we could remember her.’

‘We can’t.’ Her words were clipped. Cold. Slowly walking towards an unlit candle beside the cabinet, Areanel again let a whisper of power slip from her clutches. Flame burst, illuminating the cabinet’s depths.

There was a sudden clunking noise. ‘What was that?’ she asked.

‘The cabinet. There’s a drawer here. I’ve never noticed it before.’ Percival gestured to the highest shelf, tugging at the drawer handle. ‘It seems to be stuck.’ Areanel watched as he pulled at it again, rattling the entire cabinet until papers jostled and fell. The veins in his arms bulged as he strained to shake it loose.

‘Is it locked?’

‘Maybe… One moment.’ Percival pointed to an imprint on the cabinet door. Areanel glanced at it. It was peculiarly shaped like her necklace—a small indent in the shape of a four-pointed star. ‘Do you see that? It looks like—’

Areanel’s hand reached for the dainty necklace that lay against her collarbones. Her fingers traced the familiar four points of the gem. Could it be? ‘My pendant,’ Areanel finished.