Adrian's arm throbbed where Cassian's flames had grazed it, but the pain was nothing compared to the sting of Toren's betrayal. He sat in the Academy's infirmary, a stark room of white walls and sharp herb smells, as a healer bandaged his burns. The coronation was over, King Alaric crowned, and Cassian and Lord Kael were in chains. But the vault remained locked, and the coded letter in Adrian's boot burned with unfinished business.
Lira perched on a stool, her scarf crooked, eyes heavy with worry. "You look like you're planning to storm the palace," she said, trying for a smile.
"Maybe I am," Adrian muttered, wincing as the healer tightened the bandage. Toren's confession—working with the Dravens, then turning on them—churned in his gut. The ledger Toren had given him was real, but so was the archive ambush. Trust was a cracked glass, and Adrian wasn't sure it could hold.
The door swung open, and Toren stood there, his usual grin gone. "Corveth, we need to talk."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "You've said enough, Vael."
Lira stood, her voice sharp. "Give him a chance, Adrian. He saved us in the court."
"After nearly getting me killed," Adrian snapped, the healer's glare ignored. "Why should I listen?"
Toren's shoulders slumped, but his eyes held steady. "Because I know how to get into the vault. My family—before we fell—had a contact. A ward-breaker. She's risky, but she's the best."
Adrian's pulse quickened. The vault held the proof to clear his family, but Toren's offer screamed danger. "And I'm supposed to trust you? After you sold me out?"
"I didn't sell you," Toren said, voice low. "The Dravens had my sister's debt. I fed them scraps to keep her safe. But I'm done. Let me prove it."
Lira's gaze flicked to Adrian, urging caution but not refusal. He hated it, but Toren's knowledge was a lifeline. "Fine," he said, voice cold. "But one wrong move, and you're out."
The healer shooed them away, and they slipped into the courtyard, the night air biting Adrian's burns. The Academy loomed, its spires like silent judges. Cassian's arrest had shaken the Dravens, but their allies were still out there, and the vault was a fortress. Adrian needed a plan, not just a ward-breaker.
"We meet her tomorrow," Toren said. "Outside the city. Neutral ground."
Lira frowned. "And if it's a trap?"
"Then we're ready," Adrian said, though his stomach twisted. He'd faced worse odds, but the stakes felt heavier now.
The next day, they left the Academy at dawn, cloaks hiding their faces. The city's edge was a sprawl of taverns and dust, far from the court's glitter. Toren led them to a rundown inn, its sign creaking in the wind. Inside, a woman waited—mid-thirties, sharp-eyed, her fingers scarred from rune-work. She introduced herself as Mira, no last name.
"You're the Valorian kid," she said, sizing Adrian up. "Heard your family got a raw deal. Vault's a tough mark. Why risk it?"
Adrian met her gaze, the truth too dangerous to share fully. "Justice," he said simply. "Can you do it?"
Mira smirked. "For a price. Blood wards need a royal sample—fresh, not bottled. I can bypass the runes, but you get the blood."
Adrian's mind reeled. Royal blood meant Alaric or his kin, an impossible ask. But Mira's scars and steady voice said she wasn't bluffing. "Deal," he said, hiding his doubt. "How long?"
"Three days," she said. "Meet me here. Don't be late."
They left, silence heavy between them. Lira broke it first. "Royal blood? Adrian, that's insane."
"I'll figure it out," he said, though he had no clue how. The letter and ledger were proof of Draven treachery, but the vault's evidence was the hammer to break them. He couldn't stop now.
Back at the Academy, Elara summoned Adrian to her office, a cramped room lined with books. Her eyes were steel. "Your note saved the coronation," she said. "But you've made enemies. The Dravens aren't done, and you're no noble. Why fight their war?"
Adrian's throat tightened. She knew more than she let on. "It's my war," he said, voice steady. "They took everything from me."
Elara's gaze softened, just a fraction. "Then be smarter than them. The court's watching you now. Use it."
He left, her words a spark. The court's attention was a blade, but he could wield it. Royal blood was a problem, but the coronation had shown him one thing: chaos opened doors. He'd find a way—or make one.
As he reached the dorm, a new note lay on his cot: You can't hide forever, Valorian. No seal, but the name sent ice down his spine. Someone knew who he was. The Dravens were closing in, and the vault was his only shot. Adrian burned the note, his resolve hardening. He was a shadow no longer. He'd light the truth ablaze, even if it consumed him.