The attic was still steeped in morning light, golden and soft, like a lullaby stitched in sunbeams.
But Ivy's heart was racing.
Tieran's smile hadn't faded.
It lingered on his face like a thread pulled too far.
Too bright.
Too wrong.
She crossed the room in three quick steps.
"Tieran."
He looked up, spoon still in hand.
"Yeah?"
She didn't answer.
Just reached out and tugged at his cheek.
Gently.
Then again, harder.
His head tilted with the pull.
"Ow—hey!" he yelped, stepping back. "What are you doing?"
"Checking," Ivy said, eyes narrowed. "How can you smile?"
Tieran blinked.
"I don't know. I just… did."
She grabbed his wrist, pulled him toward the light.
"Sit."
"Ivy—"
"Sit."
He obeyed, confused.
She crouched in front of him, brushing his hair back, fingers trembling.
She found the seam behind his ear.
The one that shimmered faintly when touched.
The one that marked where his emotions had been stitched shut.
She pressed her fingers to it.
The thread glowed.
Still intact.
Still sealed.
But something pulsed beneath it.
A flicker.
A warmth.
A heartbeat.
Ivy's breath caught.
"If you're really feeling again," she whispered, "your seal will rupture."
Tieran's eyes widened.
"And if it does—"
"I'll feel it too," she said. "Through the bond."
They stared at each other.
The porridge on the stove hissed.
The attic felt suddenly too small.
"We need to tell them," Ivy said.
Tieran nodded.
Already on his feet.
They rushed down the hall, past the hanging herbs and shelves of dusty books.
Burst into the sitting room where Orie and Nia were mid-bicker.
"I'm telling you, this robe is shrinking," Nia said, tugging at the hem.
"It's not shrinking," Orie replied, sipping tea. "You're just finally admitting you have shoulders."
"Mom," Ivy said, breathless. "Something's wrong."
Both women turned.
Tieran stood behind Ivy, pale and silent.
"What is it?" Nia asked, instantly alert.
Ivy looked at her.
Then at Orie.
Then back at Tieran.
"He smiled."
Nia blinked.
Orie frowned.
"And?"
"He smiled," Ivy repeated. "Like really smiled. But his emotions are still stitched."
Silence.
Orie stood slowly.
Walked over to Tieran.
Looked at him.
Really looked.
"You're feeling something?" she asked.
Tieran nodded.
"I think so. I don't know how. But I felt… happy. Just for a second."
Orie's face changed.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something older.
Something like grief.
"You're feeling," she whispered.
Then louder:
"Your emotions are stitched?"
Tieran looked down.
"Yes."
Orie stepped back.
"No wonder," she said. "No wonder you haven't been the same. You were always so loud, so bright. And then you just… dimmed."
Nia's voice was quiet.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"I didn't want you to worry," Tieran said. "And I didn't think it mattered. I didn't think I could feel anything again."
Ivy reached for his hand.
"But you did."
Tieran looked at her.
And for the first time, his smile didn't come.
Only the silence did.
And in that silence, something shifted.
A thread slipped.
And none of them knew what it would unravel.
The attic was still humming with morning light and porridge steam.
But Orie's eyes hadn't left Tieran since Ivy spoke the words.
"His emotions are stitched."
She stepped forward.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
"Tieran. Come with me."
He followed her down the narrow hall, past the shelves of dried herbs and old spellbooks, into the small study tucked behind the sitting room.
She closed the door.
The light dimmed.
Orie turned.
Her voice was low, sharp.
"Who did this to you?"
Tieran didn't speak.
Not yet.
She stepped closer.
"When? Why? Who stitched your emotions shut?"
He looked at her.
And for the first time in a year, he let the memory surface.
"A year ago," he said. "On my way back from the war."
Orie's breath caught.
"You were ambushed?"
"I was assassinated."
Silence.
Orie's hands curled into fists.
"By whom?"
Tieran's voice cracked.
"Zeyn."
Orie blinked.
"Zeyn?"
"My adopted brother."
The word hung in the air like poison.
"He found out I was looking for you," Tieran said. "That I was coming home. That I wanted to bring you back."
Orie's eyes shimmered.
"You were looking for me?"
"I never stopped."
He swallowed.
"Zeyn didn't just try to kill me. He stitched me. Sealed my emotions. Made sure I couldn't feel. Couldn't fight."
Orie stepped back.
Her hand found the edge of the desk.
She gripped it.
Hard.
"He hypnotized Father," Tieran continued. "Twisted his mind. Made him forget me. Made him believe Zeyn was the rightful heir."
Orie's voice was barely a whisper.
"You're the Emperor's only blood son."
"I was," Tieran said. "Until Zeyn rewrote the threads."
Orie turned away.
Her breath came in short, sharp bursts.
Her fingers trembled.
She had ruled.
She had fought.
She had lost.
But this—
This was betrayal stitched into bone.
She turned back to Tieran.Her eyes were fire.
"You were silenced. Erased. And I was kept away."
Tieran nodded.
"I thought you'd forgotten me."
"I never did."
Orie stepped closer.
Placed her hand over his stitched seal.
Felt the pulse beneath it.
"I want him undone," she said. "I want every thread he cast torn apart."
Tieran looked at her.
And for the first time, he saw the Queen again.
Not just his mother.
But the storm.
"Ivy doesn't know," he said.
"She will," Orie replied. "But not yet."
Outside, Ivy laughed with Nia.
Unaware.Unthreaded.
Inside, Orie's fury stitched itself into resolve.
And the past began to unravel.