The palace felt colder the next morning, like something had shifted in its very bones.
Marcus stood on the training terrace overlooking the cliffs, sweat glistening on his brow. He slashed a wooden dummy with furious precision, each strike of his blade echoing through the mountain air. Guards watched from a respectful distance, whispering about the fire, the missing scrolls, the strange woman with rebel eyes.
Erin.
She hadn't been seen since dawn.
Marcus slammed his blade into the dummy one last time, splintering the wood. He turned away, chest heaving, only to find her leaning casually against a column behind him, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
"How long were you standing there?" he asked, wiping his face with a cloth.
"Long enough to know you fight like someone running from something."
"Isn't everyone?"
Erin didn't laugh. She approached slowly, the hem of her cloak whispering across the stone floor. "I checked the eastern corridor this morning. The Crowborn left behind more than just feathers."
Marcus raised a brow. "You were investigating?"
"You're welcome," she said dryly. "I found a shard of glass embedded with sealing wax. Same mark as the scroll—House Elyria. Someone wanted us to find it."
He tossed the towel aside. "Or someone wanted to frame you."
Her gaze sharpened. "Do you think I'm behind this?"
Marcus studied her, his voice low. "No. But someone in this palace does. Whispers are starting. You appeared just before the scrolls burned, just before the stables went up."
She looked away, jaw tight.
"You should leave the palace," he added quietly.
"No."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
"I'm not afraid of them."
"Maybe you should be."
Erin's blue eyes narrowed. "And what about you, Your Highness? Are you afraid of me too?"
Marcus stepped closer. "I don't know what to think, Erin. You show up with answers no one else has. You speak of curses and prophecy like you've lived them. And now Elyria's symbol appears on a death threat? That's not coincidence. That's intent."
"And you think I intended this?" she snapped. "I came here to help you. To stop whatever this blood pact is. Not to be your scapegoat."
His voice rose. "Then tell me the truth. All of it."
Erin took a step back. The cliff winds tugged at her hair as she stared at him, then finally spoke.
"My mother wasn't just from Elyria. She was the last heir before the house fell. She gave up her title, her magic, everything, to escape this kingdom's war. She raised me in secret, trained me in languages and wards. I was never supposed to come back to Ravelle. But I couldn't ignore the curse. It's tied to my blood too. I feel it, like it's… calling."
Marcus blinked, something softening in his expression. "Calling to you?"
She nodded slowly. "Every time I read the scrolls. Every time I translate a line. It's like something ancient inside me wakes up. Like I'm not just reading the prophecy—I'm remembering it."
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "So what are we, Erin? Pieces in someone else's story?"
"No," she said. "We're the ones who get to change the ending."
A long silence passed between them, thick with emotion. The wind howled across the cliffs, but they stood still—two children of legacy and blood, trying to rewrite fate.
Marcus finally spoke. "We leave tonight."
Erin blinked. "What?"
"We're going to Elyria. What's left of it. If there are answers, they're buried there."
She hesitated. "You'll abandon your coronation?"
"My coronation is a funeral with a crown," he said bitterly. "I'd rather ride into a cursed forest with you than sit on a gilded throne and wait to die."
A flush rose in her cheeks. "That's… extremely poetic."
He smirked. "I do my best."
She studied him for a long time, then nodded. "We'll need supplies. Horses. Maps."
"I'll take care of the horses. You get the maps."
They stood for another moment before Marcus added, softer now, "Erin."
She looked up.
"If this goes wrong…"
"It won't."
"If it does," he said, stepping closer, "then at least I won't be facing it alone."
And before she could reply, he was gone—cloak billowing like a banner in the wind, a prince chasing fate across rooftops of ruin and prophecy.
Erin touched her fingertips to her lips, as if catching the words he hadn't said.
She would follow him to the ends of the kingdom.
But she feared they might already be standing on the edge.