The morning came slowly, dragging its grey light across the Rivas estate like a bruise. Rain still lingered in the clouds, but it didn't fall. Instead, it pressed against the windows like a held breath, waiting to break.
Elyra sat in the breakfast conservatory, untouched tea cooling in front of her. The porcelain cup bore delicate blue flowers, but it felt too fragile in her hand. Like her. Like everything lately.
She wasn't sure why she felt so heavy today.
Maybe it was the silence.
Valen hadn't returned to their chambers last night. Not that she cared. At least that's what she kept telling herself.
"You didn't sleep."
The voice startled her.
She looked up. Luciana, Valen's stepmother, always perfectly poised, always watching. Today, she wore a steel grey gown that shimmered like armor. Her presence felt like frost on a windowpane.
"No," Elyra replied quietly.
"Trouble adjusting to life here?" Luciana asked, pouring herself coffee without waiting for an answer.
"I'm used to adapting," Elyra said.
Luciana smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Adaptation and survival are not the same. But I suppose you'll learn that."
"I already have."
Luciana's hand paused mid stir. The faintest tension flickered in her shoulders before she spoke again. "Do you know what kind of man you married, Elyra?"
The question was almost gentle. Almost.
"I think I'm beginning to," Elyra replied, raising her eyes to meet hers. "Do you know what kind of woman your stepson married?"
That smile sharpened. "I hope, for his sake, a wise one."
Elyra didn't blink. "He may be the prince of this house, but I am no pawn."
Luciana stood, coffee untouched. "Careful, dear. Queens die in this family too."
Later that day, Valen appeared.
Not in a flash of anger or ice like she expected. But with calculated calmness. Dangerous calmness.
He found her in the east wing, seated on the window seat of a long forgotten reading room. Her fingers traced the edges of a book she wasn't reading. She looked up only when his shadow fell over her.
"I see you survived breakfast with Luciana," he said.
"Barely."
"Did she test you?"
"She warned me. Like you always do."
Valen leaned against the bookshelf, arms folded. "She likes to know what she's dealing with."
"And what am I?" Elyra asked, standing slowly. "To you. To this house."
His silence was the loudest thing she'd heard all day.
"You're a storm I didn't expect," he said eventually. "And I'm still deciding if I'll let it rain, or burn everything."
Elyra stepped closer. "You're not afraid of me."
"No. But I should be."
Their eyes locked, the air between them charged like the sky before thunder. He reached out suddenly, gripping her wrist, not hard, just firm enough to be a warning.
"Did he touch you?"
Her breath caught. "What?"
"Kael," he growled. "Last night. At the fountain."
Her pulse thundered. "You were watching?"
"I'm always watching."
She yanked her hand back, fire in her eyes. "Then maybe watch closer next time. Maybe then you'll see that I'm not your possession, Valen."
"You're right," he said. "You're my responsibility."
"Is that what this is? Responsibility?" Her voice cracked, furious and wounded. "Then why do you look at me like you want to break me, Valen? Why do you kiss me like you're starving, and then leave me cold the next moment?"
The mask he wore cracked, just slightly. His expression faltered, the truth flickering behind his carefully controlled face.
"Because," he whispered, "I don't know how to want anything without destroying it."
Elyra froze. Something in her chest ached.
For him.
For herself.
For the ruin they were both walking into with eyes wide open.
Before she could speak, he was gone.
That night, she wandered again.
Not to the garden.
Not to Kael.
But to the south tower, the one Valen forbade.
The one with the locked iron door.
Except tonight, it wasn't locked.
And curiosity was a poison she couldn't resist.
Inside, it was cold. Dust covered everything, and the scent of metal hung in the air. But it wasn't the room that took her breath.
It was the walls.
Photos. Documents. Maps. A murder board.
And at the center of it all
Her brother.
Her dead brother.
His face staring back at her, pinned to the center of a twisted web.
Labeled: Target No. 1 Adrian Vale. Status: Eliminated.
Elyra's scream never made it out of her throat.