The dagger missed her heart by inches.
Rayne jerked awake, heart thundering, just as cold steel grazed her ribs. A second blade swung down-she rolled, crashing off the cot, landing hard on the stone floor. Pain shot through her hip, but she didn't stop. She scurried to her feet, her wrists still bound, but her instincts cried out to move, and two shadows flickered as another blade sang through the air above her head and buried itself in the wood behind her. Masked. Dressed in black from head to toe. No sound, no scent. Professionals.
They didn't speak. One lunged. She ducked and grabbed the rusted chamber pot, hurling it at him. It shattered against his chest, giving her just enough time to dart behind the bed. Her breaths came ragged. She wasn't trained. She wasn't strong. And there was no one coming.
You're going to die tonight, Moonborn.
The thought was loud and cruel.
One assassin reached for her. She bit his hand. Hard. He yelped. That was all she needed-she kicked his leg and darted for the door. Locked. Her chains caught on a nail and yanked her back with a sickening snap. Her shoulder hit stone. Something cracked.
The second assassin was already over her, knife raised.
Then the door exploded inward.
A blur of silver and fury surged in-Kael.
His snarl echoed like thunder in the cell. He didn't hesitate. In one strike, he slammed the assassin into the wall. Bones cracked. The other attacker turned, but Kael was faster-too fast. His claws tore through him like paper. Blood sprayed.
Silence.
Rayne lay gasping, staring up at him. Her rescuer. Her captor.
His amber eyes burned down at her. "You're bleeding."
She blinked. Her side stung, ribs soaked in red. "I noticed."
Kael stepped closer, his gaze flicking between her wound and the corpses. "Who let them in?"
Rayne didn't answer. She couldn't. Her lips trembled. Her hands shook uncontrollably.
Not from the pain.
From the truth: she'd nearly died, and no one would have cared.
Not until he had come.
-------
Rayne didn't sleep.
Even after the assassins were taken away, the scent of blood and smoke clung to the corners of her chamber like ghosts. Every creak of the stone beneath her felt like a blade drawing near. She sat on the cold floor, knees to her chest, trembling hands clutching the iron collar around her neck like it was the only thing holding her together.
Her veins raced with the echo of the moon, which had long since receded. A throb behind her eyes reminded her that her body wasn't done changing, not yet. Whatever she was becoming, it wasn't finished.
Rayne recoiled when the massive doors squeaked open once more, her heart exploding in her throat.
A figure stepped in-not a soldier, not a servant. Prince Kael.
He stood looking around the blood-stained room from the doorway. Like a visage cut out of cold stone, his face was unreadable.
"They nearly succeeded," Rayne whispered, voice hoarse. "You left me here to die."
Kael didn't flinch at her words. Instead, he stepped in and shut the door behind him.
"The guards are being replaced," he said flatly. "The assassins were one of ours."
Rayne's head snapped up. "Then why am I still here in chains?"
Kael walked closer, his boots echoing across the floor. "Because if I take them off, you might lose control. You saw what happened with the monk. Or did you forget?"
She lowered her gaze. The memory of Father Thorne's burnt body flashed in her mind-his hand still outstretched toward her when he died. "I didn't mean to kill him."
"But you did," Kael said. "And you will again if you don't learn control."
"I never asked for any of this."
Kael knelt before her, his voice low but dangerous. "None of us did."
Their eyes met. For the first time, she saw something in his eyes-not disgust, not rage. Weariness.
"Do you know what it means to carry a cursed bloodline?" he asked. "To wake up every day knowing you're feared for what you are?"
Rayne swallowed. "No."
"Then don't pretend we're so different."
She looked at him, stunned into silence.
Kael stood and crossed to the hearth, tossing another log onto the dying fire. Sparks leapt up, casting golden light across the stone walls.
"The assassins weren't acting alone," he said. "The scent on their cloak-foxroot, mixed with grave ash. An old mixture used by the Shadow Courts. That poison was meant to keep your powers buried. Permanent suppression."
Rayne blinked. "Why would anyone want that?"
"Because if your magic wakes fully, the Veil will weaken again. And there are many who profit from keeping it sealed."
Her head spun. "I thought they wanted me dead."
"Some do. Others want you neutralized." Kael met her gaze. "But I think someone wants to use you."
Rayne felt a knot in her stomach. The chains seemed more tightly now, as though each link served as a constant reminder that she was never truly safe, not even in this damned palace.
The door suddenly sprang open once more. General Oryn stepped in, armor stained from the night's violence.
"My prince," he said, voice strained, "another body was found."
Kael turned sharply. "Where?"