Sleep barely touched me.
What little rest I stole was haunted by shifting shadows and cold eyes. I woke before the sun, the breath in my lungs shallow, my heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum. I didn't even reach for my sword anymore—I slept with it. The cold steel beneath my pillow was the only comfort left in this den of painted smiles and sharpened tongues.
The spies had started whispering again—fragments of conversations, hints of movement. Nothing concrete, but enough to keep my instincts on edge. There was a fire burning under the throne of Delyra, and I was certain now: I wasn't meant to survive long enough to smother it.
I dressed in silence, opting for my deep crimson tunic and black leather corset, cinched tightly. My hair was pulled back in a braid that hung like a whip down my back. I slipped a dagger into each boot and one behind my belt. This was the new ritual of my mornings—arm, listen, prepare. Trust no one. Not even the light.
Keal awaited me outside my chamber with her usual stoic grace. "We've intercepted a letter from the western border. A coded one. We're still working on decrypting it."
"How did we get it?"
"A maid in the correspondence room has been feeding us copies of all outgoing royal documents. She believes in you."
I nodded. "Reward her discreetly. Send her family food—something she can't be linked to. What about the northern tunnel?"
"Collapsed three days ago," Keal said, her voice lowering. "And not naturally. Sabotage. Two of our scouts never returned."
My jaw clenched. The network I'd begun building was no longer enough. I needed it faster, stronger—rooted in every crack of this rotting palace.
I moved through the halls quickly, my footsteps soundless, calculating. Every corridor held a new set of eyes. Servants bowed, soldiers stiffened, and nobles smiled too tightly. I could feel it in my bones—something was shifting. The tension was heavier than steel.
I entered the hidden war chamber beneath the eastern wing—once a forgotten dungeon, now our quiet nerve center.
Toma, one of my sharpest informants, greeted me with a bow. "Commander. I have news."
He gestured to the large board where red pins marked regions across the kingdom.
"Our man in Garneth reports that Lady Mirra—of the king's inner council—is funneling funds from the crown's treasury into private accounts. Military ones. Not aligned with Delyra's army."
I frowned. "How long?"
"Months. Possibly years. We also suspect she's recruited mercenaries from the Blackwind Isles."
I narrowed my gaze. "She's building an army within the kingdom."
Toma nodded. "And not for the king. They're loyal to coin… and whoever promises more."
I inhaled slowly. "Send word to our contact in the Isles. I want names and locations. If they land in Delyra, I want to know the second their boots touch soil."
He bowed again and vanished into the shadows.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears. The threat wasn't just here within the palace—it was spreading across the borders. My mother, helpless in her sleep, was a blade's whisper from death. And I… I was the only shield she had.
I returned to my quarters that evening and found something that chilled me deeper than any threat.
The vial of elixir used in my mother's nightly care had been replaced.
It looked identical—same color, same bottle. But it was heavier, and I'd been trained to notice the difference. I poured a drop onto my silver dagger and watched it hiss and bubble.
Poison.
They had tried again.
I gripped the edge of the dresser, white-knuckled. I wanted to scream, to rip through the palace like a storm and expose them all—but I knew better. This was a game of shadows. And shadows could only be beaten with silence, cunning, and fire that burned from within.
"Keal," I whispered when she entered. "Change the care staff. Quietly. I want every medicine vial checked. No one is to touch my mother without my written permission again."
Keal nodded grimly.
"Assign two spies inside her wing, rotating every four hours. And double the guards outside—but make it look routine. If they know we're onto them, they'll shift tactics."
"Yes, Commander."
That night, I summoned my three most trusted spies—Toma, Serel, and Rynn.
"There's a council beneath the court," I told them. "Not officially sanctioned, but old, noble, powerful. They want the king weak and the system rotting. They're scared of me. Scared I'll bring change."
I paused, letting the words sink in.
"And they're right."
Rynn, sharp-eyed and lithe as a cat, tilted her head. "How deep do you want us to dig?"
"To the bone," I said. "Find their meeting place. Infiltrate it. Pose as sympathizers if you must. And if any of you are caught—"
"We know," Serel said. "You'll deny us."
I met their eyes. "No. I'll avenge you. Quietly. Thoroughly."
They departed one by one, cloaked in silence.
The moon hung high when a knock at my chamber door startled me. A soldier stood there, pale and sweating.
"Commander," he whispered, "we have a problem. A large carriage arrived at the gates… unmarked. But the guards who opened it… they're dead. All four."
I stood, my spine straightening. "Dead how?"
"No wounds. No poison. Just… gone. As if life left them."
The pulse in my throat pounded.
"Seal the gates," I ordered. "No one enters or leaves. Get Keal. Get the mages. We're under siege—and this time, it's not with swords."
As he ran, I turned back into my room and stared at the bottle still bubbling on the dagger's blade.
The war I feared wasn't coming.
It had already begun.