The fortress was thick with silence, but Ariana’s blood carried no such stillness. It thundered hot and heavy in her veins, her mind replaying the whispers of the council—Kael’s assassination, her being used as the blade to end him.
She had not told him. Could not. His wrath would devour them all before dawn if he knew. And yet, keeping the truth pressed against her ribs felt like balancing on the edge of a knife.
Kael was awake before the sun, restless and prowling. Ariana felt it in the bond before she saw him—the low storm of his temper, the shadow of something he wasn’t voicing.
She followed him through the corridors as dawn’s light spilled gray across the stone. He walked like a predator that had scented blood, shoulders tense, movements sharp.
“Kael,” she called softly.
He pause
