The night air in the Northern Forest was thick with the scent of pine and impending snow. Kaia sat apart from the rest of the rebels, her back against the rough bark of an ancient oak tree. The orange glow of the campfire cast flickering shadows across the faces of Silas and his men—men who looked at her with a mixture of reverence and expectation.
"You're quiet, Kaia," Silas said, stepping into the circle of light. He began sharpening a long, curved blade, the rhythmic shink-shink of stone against steel grating on her nerves. "Most would be celebrating. You escaped the Black Tower. You're a living legend now."
"I'm a soldier, Silas. Not a legend," Kaia replied, her voice cold. She felt the heavy pouch of gold Alaric had given her pressing against her ribs—a constant, burning reminder of the King's sacrifice.
"True," Silas grunted, testing the edge of his blade with a calloused thumb. "And a soldier has a mission. The men are ready. We know the royal army is distracted, searching the southern roads for you. They don't expect us to strike the capital while the King is leading the hunt himself."
Kaia's heart skipped a beat. "The King is leading the hunt?"
"He left at sunset," Silas said with a dark grin. "He's desperate. Lord Thorne and the Council are breathing down his neck. If he doesn't find you soon, his own people might turn on him. It's the perfect time to strike."
Kaia looked into the dancing flames of the fire. She saw Alaric's face there—the way his eyes had softened when he looked at her in the dungeon, the way he had risked everything to unlock her cell. If the rebels attacked now, they wouldn't just be fighting an army; they would be murdering a man who was trying to change a broken system.
"The secret entrance," Silas prompted, his voice low and urgent. "The one you used to infiltrate his chambers. We need the map, Kaia. We move at midnight."
Kaia hesitated. Her father's face flashed in her mind—the man the King's army had executed. She owed it to his memory to finish this. But she also remembered Alaric's whispered words: "Trust me."
"The entrance is heavily guarded now," Kaia lied, her voice steady despite the chaos in her heart. "After my escape, they would have changed the rotations. We need more information before we rush in."
Silas narrowed his eyes, the firelight catching the scar on his cheek. "You were inside for months, Kaia. You know those hallways better than the King himself. Are you suggesting we wait while he hunts you down like an animal?"
"I'm suggesting we don't walk into a trap," she snapped back.
The other rebels looked up from their weapons, the tension in the camp rising. Silas stepped closer, his shadow looming over her. "Don't let the palace luxury soften your resolve, little wolf. Remember whose blood is on Alaric's hands. Remember why we started this."
As Silas turned away, Kaia felt a cold shiver that had nothing to do with the winter air. She realized she was no longer just fighting a war between two kingdoms. She was fighting a war within herself.
She looked up at the moon, partially hidden by dark clouds. Somewhere out there, Alaric was searching for her. And somewhere in this camp, her own people were planning his death.
"I have to warn him," she whispered to the shadows, the words barely audible. But how could she reach the King without leading the rebels straight to his throat