The waiting was agony. The clockwork predictability of the Nightshade Court had suddenly been replaced by a tense, invisible game of espionage. I knew I couldn't trust Lorcan's word, and now I held the silent promise of a truth that could either save me or expose me to the King's total wrath.
When Scribe Rian finally arrived that evening, he was preceded and followed by Vesper. She brought him in, set up a small working table in the corner of my salon, and then positioned herself by the fireplace, pretending to examine the fire's progress with laser focus. Her presence was stifling.
Rian, dressed in his dark, humble archivist robes, moved with a quiet efficiency. He carried a heavy satchel containing four large, official-looking scrolls, but he avoided my gaze entirely, his head bowed.
"Your Highness," he murmured, his voice soft, almost apologetic. "Lady Meridian has assigned me to assist you with the historical review of the Prophetic Binding texts, as requested. I have brought the standard references."
"Thank you, Rian," I replied, moving to the table. I kept my tone commanding but even, the same tone I had used with Vesper. "We need to focus specifically on the earliest recorded uses of the Sunstone in a binding context. I find the official account of 'suppression' to be… lacking in historical precedent."
This was our code. I had given him the topic.
Rian nodded stiffly, pulling out the massive scrolls. He unrolled the first two, securing them with obsidian weights. "Indeed, Your Highness. We must go back to the records of the Second Age. The earliest descriptions are difficult to translate, but essential for context."
He unrolled the third scroll which was a thick, yellowed parchment covered in dense, spidery Fae script. As he did, he subtly nudged a small, cylindrical object across the table toward me. It looked exactly like a detached, petrified section of an old scroll, perhaps a damaged finial.
I picked it up, my fingers brushing his. The tiny cylinder was wrapped in a sliver of brittle, ancient paper, so thin it was almost transparent.
Rian continued speaking, his eyes fixed on the scroll in front of him. "The key is to understand the language shifts, Your Highness. The word for 'suppress' in the modern tongue was often used interchangeably with 'transfer' in the ancient texts."
I kept my hands below the table, using the wide sleeve of my tunic to conceal my movements as I unrolled the tiny piece of paper. The script was Rian's handwriting, neat and precise.
It detailed the horrifying truth:
The Sunstone (Ancient Solar Fae Term: Anchor of Lyra): Not a suppressor. It is an energy Transfer Conduit. In a Solar/Shadow binding, it acts as a passive filter, ensuring that the Solar Fae's healing power does not merely fix the curse, but that the Solar's life force is permanently and unilaterally channeled to sustain the Shadow Fae's long-term survival. The bonding ritual creates a tether. If the King is dying, the Solar energy will be drawn to him, causing rapid exhaustion, decay, and death of the Solar. The result is the King is sustained, but the Solar becomes his fuel, slowly burnt out over months.
The blood drained from my face. Lorcan wasn't just planning on clipping my wings; he was planning to make me his eternal battery. He needed me alive, but he needed me to be constantly drained. My death wouldn't break the curse, but my steady decline would ensure his perpetual survival.
I felt the familiar surge of Sun-Fire rage, but this time, the sheer terror was stronger. I leaned on the faint, residual shadow on my shoulders, fighting the urge to incinerate the table.
"And what of the… the transfer terms, Scribe?" I managed, my voice strained.
Rian immediately sensed the shift in my composure. He subtly tapped the third, massive scroll with his finger. "The transfer, Your Highness, is where the danger lies. It must be a willing exchange to ensure mutual survival. A forced bond… the ancient texts are silent on the outcome, but the risk of unilateral transfer is clear."
Just as Rian delivered this final, chilling confirmation, the door to the salon opened without a knock.
King Lorcan stood in the doorway. He was not in armor or velvet, but in his training gear—dark leather and simple linen, smelling faintly of cold night air and magic. He looked immensely powerful and dangerously alert.
Vesper instantly snapped to attention. "My King."
Lorcan ignored her, his eyes cutting straight to the table. His gaze swept over the scrolls, the ink, and then settled on Rian's face, which was instantly pale, before settling on me.
"I was checking on the progress of the royal declaration," Lorcan stated, walking slowly into the room. His shadow followed him, filling the chamber with a suffocating cold.
I quickly crumpled the tiny warning paper into the palm of my hand and shoved my hands under the table. I forced a look of intense, scholarly focus onto my face.
"We were reviewing the Prophetic Binding texts, Your Majesty," I said, keeping my voice cool and regal. "I had just come upon a curious translation error. Rian, show the King the passage about the 'transfer' of the Solar life force."
I was challenging him. I was using Rian's information immediately.
Rian, recovering with incredible speed, pointed to a section of the massive scroll. "The text, Your Majesty, is from the Second Age, detailing the difference between a willingly shared bond and an oath of survival. It uses the archaic word 'Chann' which modern Fae often translate as 'suppress,' but it originally meant a forced, unilateral drawing of power."
Lorcan walked to the table and stared down at the scroll. His shadow seemed to coalesce around the very words. His amber eyes flickered between the ancient text and my face. He knew I was fishing, that I was testing the limits of the lie.
"The ancient Fae were unnecessarily dramatic," Lorcan said, his voice flat. "The stone is a stabilizer. It ensures the fire flows safely to repair the curse. If she were incapable of containing her power, yes, it would draw the excess. It is a failsafe. Your insistence on archaic translation is unnecessary, Scribe Rian."
He looked directly at me. "Do not mistake a failsafe for malice, Seraphina. If your power stabilizes naturally, the stone will be dormant. If you fail, the stone will save my life by preventing your explosion. Its function is preservation."
He lifted his gaze from the scroll and looked Rian directly in the eye, holding the gaze for a moment that stretched into an eternity. "Continue your work. Ensure the Queen is satisfied with the historical context, Scribe. But keep the context relevant."
Lorcan turned and walked out, his shadow retreating, leaving the air lighter but colder than before.
I sat back, my heart pounding against my ribs. He hadn't seen the crumpled paper. He hadn't accused Rian. But he had issued a devastating warning, and he had re-confirmed the lie in the face of the truth. He was forcing me to gamble my life on his word.
I looked at Rian. He looked utterly terrified, but also resolute.
"He is a master manipulator," I whispered, slowly unclenching my hand from the crumpled paper. "He knows I know, but he forces me to accept his lie or risk exposure."
"The Royal Archives are sealed by his own blood, Your Highness," Rian whispered back, quickly gathering the scrolls. "I cannot bring you more documents. He will sense the theft. You need to use the training grounds. You need to test the stone's true magnetic draw."
He quickly packed his satchel, his task complete.