The next morning, the palace woke in uneasy silence.
Caidren sat alone in the royal solar, a room once filled with his mother's laughter and warm sunlight. Now it felt like a mausoleum—quiet, dim, and filled with memories that clung like dust.
His fingers tapped the table slowly, a habit he'd picked up from his father. His blade rested across his lap, unsheathed. He had not slept.
She was real.
Liora. Her name was Liora.
He said it under his breath, like a prayer. Like a curse.
He should have arrested her. Should have called the guards the moment she stepped into his chamber. But something in her eyes—wild, broken, burning—had mirrored something in himself.
And that terrified him.
"Still alive, I see."
Caidren looked up sharply. Serene stood in the doorway, a porcelain teacup in hand, as if she owned the room. Her expression was unreadable.
"You knew," he said. "You knew she was here."
She took a delicate sip, then shrugged. "You forget I know everything that happens under this roof. Including which rebels sneak into whose bedrooms."
"You could've warned me."
"Would it have changed anything?"
He didn't answer.
Serene placed the cup down and leaned against the window. "She's dangerous, Caidren. Thorne Vex raised her like a dagger."
"I know who she is."
"No, you know what she looks like in firelight." Serene's voice sharpened. "You don't know what she's capable of."
"I saw her hesitate. She had every chance to kill me. She didn't."
"That doesn't make her harmless. It makes her conflicted."
Caidren stood. "So am I."
Serene watched him. "Then we're all doomed."
---
In the undercity, where the sun barely reached, Liora sat across from Thorne in a hollowed-out chapel. The broken stained glass still wept colors across the cracked floor. Between them sat the map of Aethermoor and its many secrets.
"You were supposed to kill him," Thorne said coldly.
Liora met his gaze. "I know."
"You failed."
She flinched.
"Tell me why."
"I don't think he's what we thought."
Thorne's hand twitched. "He's still a crown. Still a tyrant."
"He could've called the guards. He didn't."
"Maybe he's smarter than we thought."
"No." Her voice softened. "He's sad. Like something broke inside him, same as us."
Thorne leaned forward. "Sad kings still hang rebels."
Liora looked down. "I can't kill him. Not yet."
"You're losing focus."
"I'm seeing clearly for the first time."
His voice dropped. "There's a reason I kept you alive all these years, Liora. You were meant for this."
She looked away. "Maybe you were wrong."
Thorne stood slowly, fury simmering behind his calm. "Then you better find out the truth before someone else dies because of your hesitation."
---
Later that evening, the palace held a feast to celebrate the end of mourning. Caidren stood at the center of it all—crowned in black, surrounded by nobles and generals, forced smiles and wine-stained praise.
He felt none of it.
He scanned the room for familiar eyes and found none. Not hers.
But Serene was watching him. She always was.
"You need an heir," a duke muttered beside him.
"I'm twenty-two," Caidren replied blandly.
"Exactly. Time to start thinking of marriage."
Caidren forced a smile. "Who should I pick? Someone loyal? Someone ruthless?"
"Someone useful."
His grip tightened around his goblet. "What if I chose someone dangerous instead?"
The duke chuckled. "Then may the gods help us all."
---
Liora watched from above.
She'd infiltrated the feast disguised as one of the royal performers, her hair braided in gold thread, her eyes darkened with soot and kohl. She looked like a stranger to herself.
But she watched him.
Caidren's smile was false. His movements rehearsed. He looked like a man dressed for his own funeral.
She felt the same.
When his gaze lifted—accidentally, impossibly—it found hers.
For a moment, the room vanished.
She didn't look away.
Neither did he.
The crowd swallowed the silence between them.
---
That night, Liora walked the palace gardens alone. Her stolen key granted her access to the southern gate. The moon was silver. The air smelled like lilacs and ash.
She didn't expect him to find her.
But he did.
"Why are you still here?" Caidren asked from behind her.
She turned slowly. "To finish what I started."
"Are you going to kill me this time?"
"Are you going to let me?"
He didn't answer.
Liora stepped closer. "I keep thinking… if I end you, I end the crown. But every time I try, I see someone who's already bleeding."
"And I see someone I'm not sure I want to stop."
They stood there, inches apart, both caught in something neither could name.
"You're not what I expected," he said.
"You are," she whispered. "But that's the problem."
---
From the shadows, Serene watched them. And smiled.
The prophecy was unfolding.
And neither of them would survive it unchanged.