The tower door slammed behind her, the sound echoing like a in Elyra's ears.
She ran. Down winding stone steps. Through the south corridor. Past paintings that now seemed to sneer.
Her heart wasn't racing, it was roaring.
Her brother. On their wall. Marked. Labeled. Crossed out.
Eliminated.
Adrian Vale. Her blood. Her protector. Her anchor.
And Valen?
She didn't know where to put him now.
She crashed into her room and locked the door behind her. Her hands trembled as she pulled the sheets from the bed and crawled underneath, curling up like a child trying to disappear into darkness.
But the darkness wasn't safe anymore.
Not here.
Not with the truth scratching beneath her skin.
By morning, Elyra hadn't slept.
She washed her face, forced her shaking hands to be still, and dressed. Today, she wouldn't be the quiet wife in the shadows.
She would be the woman who demanded answers.
And he would give them to her.
Valen was in the training hall, shirtless, sweating, and lethal as ever.
She didn't care.
She walked straight through the wide doors and stopped in front of him, ignoring the guards and trainers lingering nearby.
"We need to talk," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her spine.
Valen tossed a towel over his shoulder. His eyes locked on her, dark and unreadable. "About what?"
"You lied to me."
A small smile, dry and sharp. "That's vague. You'll have to be more specific."
She stepped forward. "The south tower. The board. Adrian."
His jaw clenched.
"I saw everything, Valen."
He didn't deny it.
Didn't even blink.
"You had my brother marked for death," she said. "You watched him. Tracked him. Labeled him like prey."
"And he was."
Elyra's world tilted.
"You bastard," she whispered.
Valen walked toward her slowly, every step measured and dangerous. "You think I enjoyed it?" he said. "You think I didn't ask questions when I was handed that order?"
"Then why?"
"Because Adrian Vale wasn't who you thought he was."
"Don't," she snapped. "Don't try to rewrite him."
Valen's voice dropped, quiet and lethal. "He was working with Kael Moretti. Selling family intel to our rivals. Feeding your brother's revenge in exchange for blood money."
Lies. Lies. Lies.
Except, her brother had been secretive.
Especially in the months before his death.
"I don't believe you," she said, but her voice cracked.
"You should."
A beat passed between them, heavy with betrayal and buried truths.
"I didn't pull the trigger," Valen added. "But I signed the paper."
Elyra turned away, hands over her mouth.
She didn't want to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
But when he stepped closer, something strange happened. His voice softened. "Elyra, he was going to get you killed."
Her head jerked up. "What?"
"You were part of his leverage," Valen said. "You were being watched long before you arrived here. And not just by me."
That word again.
Watched.
Hunted.
Used.
Everything in her unraveled.
She didn't remember walking to the balcony.
Didn't remember how the storm clouds returned.
Only that she stood there hours later, fingers wrapped tightly around the iron railing, staring out over the estate like a queen ruling a kingdom of ghosts.
Behind her, soft footsteps approached.
Kael.
Of course.
The devil always came when the angels were tired.
"I warned you he wasn't clean," Kael said, leaning beside her.
"You knew what happened to Adrian."
"I knew pieces. Enough to keep my distance."
Elyra glared at him. "So you just let me fall into this?"
"I tried to stop the marriage," Kael said, unbothered. "You think I wanted you bound to him?"
"Then why did you come back?"
He didn't answer. Not directly.
Instead, he said, "You should be careful, Elyra. There's a war coming. And you're the pretty little ribbon holding two rival empires together."
"I'm not a ribbon," she snapped.
"No," he said, stepping closer, "you're a fuse."
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't kind.
It was a storm of rage and memory and guilt, crashing against lips that still remembered who they used to be.
But Elyra pulled away, shaking, breathless, shattered.
"I'm married," she said, almost to herself.
Kael gave her a sad smile. "To a killer."
"And you're not?"
He didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
They both had blood on their hands.
That night, Valen returned to her room.
He didn't say a word.
He simply sat on the edge of her bed, hands clasped together, like a man praying for forgiveness he didn't think he deserved.
She lay still on the other side, watching him through tired eyes.
"Did you love him?" he asked, voice barely audible.
"My brother?"
He shook his head once.
"Kael."
Elyra's breath caught.
And in that moment, she realized something terrifying.
She didn't know the answer.