Duke stood at the door of his chamber for a breathless moment.
Elara was awake.
She sat propped up by pillows, her skin still pale but her eyes, those beautiful eyes, alive again. The moment their gazes met, something in Duke fractured — all the fear, the guilt, the unbearable ache of watching her lifeless for days... it slipped away. He crossed the room in three strides.
"You're awake," he whispered, as if saying it too loudly would break the spell.
"I missed you," she murmured, a faint smile lifting the corners of her lips.
He knelt by her bed and took her hand. "Don't ever scare me like that again," he said, but there was no anger. Only raw relief.
Elara smiled.
Duke saw the joy in Olivia's face as she watched them.
He clenched his jaw trying to hold back his emotions.
---
The throne room was cold with silence.
King Torin stood before his son, towering in his crimson robes, his voice like steel against stone. "where is the traitor?"
Duke's jaw tightened. "I let him leave"
"You let him leave," Torin asked, his voice echoing through the chamber.
Duke stepped forward, eyes blazing. "You are a pawn and I don't want this kingdom if it means becoming a man like you."
The words hung in the air like a blade unsheathed.
Torin's face went still — not in surprise, but in quiet, seething fury. "Careful, boy," he said. "There are lines even a prince should fear crossing."
Duke didn't flinch. "Then punish me. Strip me of my title. But I will not become a king who trades souls for strategy." He turned and walked away, leaving King Torin to watch him depart, a mixture of emotions etched on his face."
King Torin instructed his general, "summon him."
---
Aiden rode hard through the courtyard, soot streaked across his face. Slumped across his horse's saddle was Vanessa — blood seeping through the cracks in her armor, breath shallow, her eyes half-lidded with pain. Mated strands of brown hair stuck to her face.
Queen Lyra sat on her throne at the far end of the throne hall, positioned atop the black-marble dais. She did not stir.
Aiden slid down and caught Vanessa as she sagged off the horse. He half-carried, half-dragged her toward the steps. The healers rushed forward, but none moved until Lyra gave her command.
"She's dying," Aiden said, his voice hoarse, desperate. "We need—"
"I know what she is," Queen Lyra cut in, her tone unshaken. She rose now, descending a single step, her gaze locked on Vanessa's crumpled form. "She is my general. And she will not die in my hall like some nameless soldier."
She raised a hand.
"Treat her. Now. She is to be stabilized under royal order — every elixir, every mage in this palace bends to that purpose. I want her conscious before sunrise."
The healers rushed in, careful hands lifting Vanessa onto the waiting stretcher. Aiden moved to follow, but Lyra's voice lashed out again — low, commanding, absolute.
"Not yet."
He froze.
You were sent to spy, not return with her bleeding to death. Explain. Now."
"Vanillor wasn't what we expected. I tried to stay hidden, but they knew I was there. I'd barely escaped a chase when she showed up."
He hesitated.
"She shouldn't have lived through it. But she did. Because she chose to face death rather than leave me behind."
Lyra's lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line.
"And the information? Did you retrieve anything of value?"
"Yes ," Aiden said. "Your Majesty, We had an encounter with a wind mage who demonstrated considerable control over the elements, with abilities that pose a potential threat."
"Her powers are unlike anything I've seen before."
Lyra said nothing. Only turned her head slightly, watching as Vanessa was carried away, her body limp but breathing.
Then, without looking at him again, she whispered, "Your intel is not enough to stop what's coming."
Aiden bowed once, low and wordless.
And Lyra, Queen of Eldrado, returned to her throne — her eyes never leaving the place where her most loyal warrior had bled on polished stone.
I'll have you dragged to Vanillor, If anything goes wrong."
With a bow, Aiden exited the throne room.