Kael's POV
The rotten apple hit me square in the face.
"Oops!" My half-brother Aldric laughed from the courtyard below, his golden hair shining in the sun. "Didn't see you up there, brother."
Everyone laughed with him. The servants. The guards. Even Father, who stood watching Aldric practice sword fighting with the weapons master. Nobody looked up at the storage room window where I stood, apple mush dripping down my cheek.
I was invisible. Like always.
I wiped my face with my sleeve and went back to counting grain sacks. Forty-two, forty-three, forty-four... The numbers were easier than thinking about how much I hated my life.
"Magnificent form, my son!" Father's voice boomed from outside. "The Radiant Shield will be honored to have you as their commander!"
My son. Never my sons. Just the one who mattered.
I slammed my counting book shut. The dust made me cough, but nobody heard. Nobody ever heard me.
"Boy!" Old Finn's raspy voice made me jump. The stable master stood in the doorway, his wrinkled face twisted in concern. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," I lied.
Finn hobbled closer, his bad leg dragging. He'd been kicked by a horse years ago, and Father never paid for a healer. Broken things didn't get fixed in Thornwood Manor—they just got ignored until they disappeared.
Like me.
"Your brother's a peacock," Finn muttered, settling onto a grain sack with a grunt. "All pretty feathers and loud squawking."
Despite everything, I smiled. "Father loves peacocks."
"Aye, but peacocks don't survive winters." Finn pulled out his pipe. "You know what does? Crows. Smart, quiet birds that watch and learn. Being invisible ain't so bad, boy. Keeps you safe."
"Safe from what?"
Finn's eyes went distant. "From being the one everyone expects to die first in a war."
A chill ran down my spine. "What war? We've had peace for twenty years."
"Peace is just the breath between screams, lad." He lit his pipe, hands shaking slightly. "Mark my words—"
A raven's shriek cut through the air.
Then another. And another.
Finn and I rushed to the window. Black birds swarmed the sky like a dark cloud, all heading toward the manor. Messenger ravens. Dozens of them.
"Gods above," Finn whispered. "That many birds means..."
He didn't finish. He didn't have to.
We ran downstairs, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. The great hall was already filling with people. Father stood at the head of the room, reading message after message, his face growing paler with each one.
Aldric stood beside him in his fancy training armor, looking excited rather than scared. "What news, Father?"
Father's voice shook when he spoke. "The border villages. Redbrook, Millhaven, Crow's Rest..." He paused, crumpling a message in his fist. "Gone. All of them."
Gasps filled the hall. A woman sobbed.
"What do you mean 'gone'?" someone asked.
"Destroyed." Father's eyes were hard now, angry. "Orc raiders came in the night. They killed everyone. Women, children, elderly. Bodies torn apart, homes burned to ash. Survivor count..." He looked at the message again. "Seven. Out of three villages. Seven."
The hall erupted in chaos. People screaming, crying, shouting questions.
I stood frozen. Orcs? The Ironpeak Clans had traded with us peacefully my entire life. I'd seen orc merchants in town, selling their crafts. They'd seemed... normal. Not like monsters who murdered children.
"This is war!" Aldric's voice rang out, silencing the crowd. He stepped forward, hand on his sword like he was posing for a painting. "The beasts have shown their true nature! We must strike back with holy fury!"
People cheered. Actually cheered. Like this was entertainment.
Father nodded grimly. "The Radiant Shield has issued a general draft. All men aged sixteen to forty must report for military service. We march in three days."
My stomach dropped.
"Finally!" Aldric grinned. "A chance to prove our worth in real battle!"
"You'll make us proud, son," Father said, gripping Aldric's shoulder.
Son. Singular again.
I tried to slip away, but Father's voice stopped me cold. "Kael."
Everyone turned to stare. I'd been invisible for so long that hearing my name spoken aloud felt wrong.
"Yes, sir?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.
Father's lip curled slightly, like he'd tasted something bitter. "You're of age. You'll be drafted too."
Aldric laughed. "Him? Father, he can barely lift a sword! He'll die in the first battle."
"Then he dies serving his kingdom," Father said flatly. "Better than dying useless in a storage room."
The words hit harder than the rotten apple. At least the apple was an accident. This was intentional cruelty.
Finn's hand touched my shoulder briefly—a rare moment of comfort—before he shuffled away.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I lay in my small room under the stairs, listening to Aldric's celebration party above. Music, laughter, the sounds of people toasting the "glorious war to come."
I stared at the ceiling and wondered if dying in battle would hurt more than living here.
A sound made me sit up. Footsteps in the hallway, moving fast.
Then someone pounded on the manor's main door so hard I heard it from my room.
Shouts. Running feet. More voices.
I crept out of my room and followed the commotion to the great hall.
A rider stood there, covered in blood that wasn't his. His horse had collapsed outside, dead from exhaustion. The man swayed on his feet, held up by guards.
"Ironpeak..." he gasped. "We were wrong... the orcs... they say they didn't..."
"Speak clearly!" Father commanded.
The messenger's eyes were wild with terror. "The orc chieftain sent an envoy. They swear they didn't attack our villages. They say it's a trap. They say someone wants us to—"
An arrow punched through his throat.
The messenger fell, blood pooling beneath him. Everyone screamed and scattered.
I stood frozen, staring at the arrow. It was made of human steel, not orcish bone.
Through the shattered window, I saw a figure on horseback, bow in hand. They wore a Radiant Shield cloak.
Our own holy knights had just murdered a messenger bringing news of peace.
The rider turned their horse and disappeared into the darkness.
Father grabbed Aldric. "Say nothing of this! Do you understand? Nothing!"
"But Father, if the orcs didn't—"
"I SAID NOTHING!" Father's roar silenced him. His eyes found mine across the room, and for the first time in my life, I saw fear in them. "Kael. Come here."
I walked forward on numb legs.
Father leaned close, his breath hot against my ear. "You saw nothing tonight. If you speak one word of this, I will personally hand you to the Radiant Shield for execution as a traitor. Are we clear?"
I nodded, too shocked to speak.
"Good." He shoved me away. "Clean up this mess. And remember—loose lips start with loose tongues. I can arrange for you to lose yours."
As servants dragged the body away and covered the blood, I stood there understanding one terrible truth:
Whatever was coming wasn't a war.
It was a lie.
And I was going to be forced to kill for it.
Outside, war horns began to blow across the kingdom, their sound like the screaming of dying men.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.