Elara's POV
The balcony air had chilled the sweat on my neck, but the interior of my bedchamber was stifling.
I didn't need to turn on the lamps to know someone had been here. The scent of cedarwood and expensive tobacco—my brother's signature—clung to the velvet curtains. I stepped inside, my heavy boots clicking on the floorboards, and saw him.
Prince Kaelen was lounging in my armchair, tossing a small, blackened object into the air and catching it. It was one of my old lead-lined gloves, charred from the incident in the tower.
"You always were a messy child, Elara," Kaelen said, his voice smooth and bright, like a coin being flipped. He was the golden boy of Oakhaven, the one who inherited the King's charisma without the burden of his magic.
"Get out, Kaelen," I said, my voice raw. "I'm not in the mood for sibling posturing."
"Is that what we're calling it?" He stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow that seemed to twitch toward me. "Father is furious. The Duke of Vane is currently in the solar claiming you tried to curse him during the waltz. He says your eyes turned the color of a dead man's coin."
Kaelen walked toward me, his eyes narrowing. Unlike our father, Kaelen didn't fear my touch—he simply didn't believe I would ever dare use it on him. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up. "What did you do in that tower, sister? You smell like salt and treason."
Before I could snap at him, a wave of agony slammed into my chest.
It wasn't my pain. It was a searing, blistering heat that made my lungs feel like they were inhaling ash. I gasped, my knees buckling, and I saw a flash of orange fire—a shattered crystal on a stone floor.
Alaric.
"Elara?" Kaelen's grip tightened, his confusion turning to suspicion. "Why are you burning? Your skin is nearly scalding."
"It's... the siphoning," I choked out, fighting to keep my consciousness from slipping into the bond. I could feel Alaric's oxygen running low. He was dying in that cell, baked alive by our father's 'reminder.' "The Prince's magic is... volatile. It lingers."
Kaelen let go of me, a look of disgust crossing his face. "If you can't handle a caged Islander, Father will find someone who can. There are whispers, you know. The High King of the Isles has sent a messenger. A threat of total war if his son isn't returned by the Winter Solstice."
I looked at him, my vision blurring. "War? We haven't had a war in a century."
"Because we've had you," Kaelen said coldly. "The ultimate deterrent. But if the weapon is malfunctioning, the deterrent is gone. The Islanders claim they have a 'Blood-Key'—something that can track Alaric's heartbeat. If it stops, they've vowed to sink Oakhaven into the sea."
I felt Alaric's heartbeat then. It was slowing. Skipping.
I have to go to him, I thought. If I don't, Oakhaven burns, and he dies.
"Go to bed, Elara," Kaelen commanded, heading for the door. "Father wants you in the tower at dawn. He wants the Prince emptied. Completely. No more slow bleeds. If Alaric is a husk, his father has nothing to bargain for."
The door slammed shut, and I heard the heavy click of a lock.
I wasn't just being sent to bed; I was being detained. Kaelen had locked me in.
I scrambled to my feet, my mind racing. I could still feel the heat from the cell through the bond. My father was willing to risk a war just to prove he could break a Prince. He didn't care about the 'Blood-Key.' He didn't care about the people. He only cared about the power I could harvest.
I ran to my vanity and pulled out a hidden drawer. Inside was a small, ceremonial dagger—iron-edged and sharp.
"Elara, stop," I whispered to myself, my hands shaking.
I wasn't a spy. I wasn't a rebel. I was a girl who had spent twenty years doing exactly what she was told. But as the heat from Alaric's cell continued to thrum through my veins, I realized I couldn't be the Silence anymore.
If I stayed silent, the world would scream.
I walked to the window. The drop was thirty feet to the garden below, but the shadows were already reaching up, thick and beckoning. They weren't my shadows. They were his. Even from the brink of death, he was providing me a ladder.
Wait for me, I thought, praying the message would reach him through the smoke. Don't you dare stop breathing.
I climbed onto the ledge and let the darkness catch me.