Keira's POV
I woke up fighting.
My fists swung at empty air, lightning crackling wildly around me. Someone shouted. Hands pushed me back down onto soft sheets—too soft. Wrong. Everything was wrong.
"Keira! Stop! You're safe!"
That voice. I knew that voice.
My eyes finally focused. Lyra stood beside the bed, her violet eyes worried but calm. Behind her, Caelan hovered in the doorway, looking like he hadn't slept in days.
"The poison," I gasped, my hand flying to my shoulder. The wound was bandaged, the pain manageable. "How am I—"
"Alive?" Lyra smiled. "Barely. You've been unconscious for three days. The Shadow Covenant poison nearly killed you. If you weren't an elemental with accelerated healing, you'd be dead."
Three days. I'd lost three days.
My assassin training kicked in immediately. I scanned the room—luxurious furniture, shelves of books, fresh flowers on the table, sunlight streaming through windows. A prison disguised as paradise.
I threw off the covers and lunged for the door.
Caelan blocked it, wind magic creating a gentle but firm barrier. "Keira, wait—"
"Get out of my way!" My lightning flared, but my body was still weak. The magic sputtered pathetically. "I need to leave. Now. The Covenant knows where I am. They'll come back with more assassins. Everyone here is in danger because of me!"
"Let them come." Caelan's voice was harder than I'd heard before. "This is your home. You're not running anymore."
"This isn't my home! I don't have a home!" I tried to push past him, but my legs buckled. He caught me before I fell, and I hated how safe his arms felt. "Let me go. Please. I'll lead them away from Valdoria. Away from you."
"No." He helped me back to the bed, ignoring my weak struggles. "You almost died protecting me. You think I'm just going to let you walk away now?"
"You should! I'm a killer! A weapon! Everything I touch turns to—"
"You saved my life." His storm-gray eyes burned into mine. "You chose me over everything you'd ever known. That's not a weapon, Keira. That's family."
Tears burned but I refused to let them fall. "Family gets each other killed."
"Then I guess we'll die together." He said it so simply, like it was obvious. Like dying for me was just another fact of life.
I didn't know how to respond to that.
Lyra cleared her throat. "I'll give you two some privacy. Keira, there's food on the table. Eat. You need your strength." She paused at the door. "Oh, and don't bother trying to escape through the windows. They're magically sealed. Prince's orders."
She left, and I glared at Caelan. "You locked me in?"
"I gave you a safe place to recover," he corrected. "There's a difference."
"A prison is a prison."
"This isn't a prison. It's protection." He gestured to the room. "You have everything you need. Books, food, comfort. The door locks from the inside too—you control who enters. I'm not keeping you captive, Keira. I'm keeping you safe while you heal."
"I don't need protection!"
"Yes, you do." His voice softened. "From the Covenant. From yourself. From whatever Grandmother Nyx convinced you that you deserve."
That hit too close to the truth. I looked away.
"Eat something," Caelan said. "Please. Then we'll talk about what happens next."
He left before I could argue, the door closing with a soft click.
I immediately tested it. Locked from the outside despite his pretty words. The windows wouldn't budge no matter how hard I pushed. The walls were solid stone.
I was trapped.
My chest tightened. This was just another cage. Prettier than the Covenant's fortress, but still a cage.
Unless...
I spent the next hour searching for escape routes. Checking every stone, every corner, every possible weakness. Nothing. The room was perfectly secure.
A knock interrupted my fourth attempt to force the window open.
"Go away!" I shouted.
The door opened anyway. A massive man entered, his scarred face set in a permanent scowl. Commander Theron. I recognized him from the night of the attack.
He carried a dinner tray, setting it down with unnecessary force. Food sloshed over the edges.
"Eat," he ordered.
"I'm not hungry."
"Don't care. Prince's orders. You eat, or I force-feed you." His earth magic rumbled threateningly. "Your choice."
I crossed my arms. "Try it."
We stared at each other. Despite my weakness, my lightning still sparked. His earth magic responded, making the floor tremble slightly.
"You tried to kill him," Theron said finally, his voice hard. "You came into his home, into his bedroom, with a poisoned blade. And he gives you the best guest room in the palace. Fresh flowers. Books. Treats you like a princess."
"I am a princess," I shot back. "Apparently."
"You're an assassin. A threat. I told him to lock you in the dungeons until we could verify your story. Know what he said?" Theron's scowl deepened. "He said you're his sister. That you deserve kindness. That love could heal you."
"He's wrong."
"He's soft." Theron moved closer, and I saw genuine anger in his eyes. "Too soft. Too trusting. He's been looking for you for twenty-one years, dreaming of a reunion. Now you're here, and he can't see past his hope to the danger you represent."
My chest tightened. "I would never hurt him again."
"You already did. He watched you nearly die from poison and blamed himself. Hasn't slept in three days. Won't leave the palace in case you wake up scared. You've been here less than a week and you've already torn him apart." Theron leaned in. "If you care about him at all, you'll leave. Go back to your Covenant. Go anywhere. But stop giving him hope that you can be the sister he remembers."
Each word was a dagger. Because he was right.
"I tried to leave," I whispered. "He won't let me."
"Then try harder." Theron straightened. "Eat your dinner. Get your strength back. Then disappear before you destroy him completely."
He left, the door locking behind him.
I stared at the untouched food, Theron's words echoing in my head. Every point he'd made was valid. I was dangerous. I was damaged. I was going to hurt Caelan just by existing in his life.
Maybe leaving was the kindest thing I could do.
I moved to the window, pressing my forehead against the glass. Below, Valdoria spread out in the afternoon sun. People laughing. Children playing. A city my brother had built from hope and determination.
A city I could destroy just by staying.
My reflection stared back at me from the window—silver hair, storm-gray eyes, the face that matched Caelan's perfectly.
"I don't belong here," I told my reflection. "I don't belong anywhere."
"That's where you're wrong."
I spun. Caelan stood in the doorway—when had he unlocked it?—holding a wooden box.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to hear Theron's speech. He means well, but he's wrong about you." Caelan crossed the room, setting the box on the table. "You do belong here. And I'm going to prove it."
He opened the box. Inside were dozens of items—a child's drawings, a small crown made of dried flowers, a torn piece of fabric, a wooden sword.
"What is this?"
"Memories." His voice was thick with emotion. "Everything I saved from our childhood. Everything I kept hoping you'd come back for." He pulled out a faded drawing of two stick figures holding hands. "You drew this when you were four. Said it was us as grown-ups, still together. Still best friends."
My vision blurred.
"This crown?" He lifted the delicate, dried flowers. "You made it for my sixth birthday. Three days before the attack. I've kept it for sixteen years."
"Stop," I whispered.
"This fabric is from your favorite blanket. You never went anywhere without it. You were holding it when they took you." His hand shook. "I grabbed a piece as they dragged you away. It's all I had left of you."
Tears finally spilled down my cheeks. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because Theron thinks you're just an assassin. A weapon. A threat." Caelan's storm-gray eyes—our eyes—locked onto mine. "But I know the truth. You're my sister. My twin. The other half of my soul. And no amount of training or brainwashing or trauma can change that."
"I'm broken," I sobbed. "They broke me, Caelan. I don't know how to be your sister. I don't know how to be anything except what they made me."
"Then let me help you remember." He pulled out one last item from the box—another wooden horse, identical to mine. "We had matching toys. You kept yours. I kept mine. Even apart, we held onto the same piece of home."
I pulled my wooden horse from my pocket with trembling hands. They were perfect mirrors of each other.
"We belong together," Caelan said softly. "We always have. And I'm not giving up on you, no matter what anyone says. Not Theron. Not the Covenant. Not even you."
Behind him, the door I'd thought was locked stood open.
"You're not my prisoner," he continued. "You never were. You can leave anytime you want. But Keira—please stay. Please give me a chance to be your brother again."
I looked at the open door. At freedom. At escape.
Then at the wooden horses. The dried flower crown. The drawing of two children who loved each other.
"I'm scared," I admitted.
"So am I." He smiled. "But we're together now. And together, we're stronger than any fear."
I was about to respond when an explosion rocked the palace.
Screams erupted from below. Smoke poured through the windows. Caelan's face went white.
"That came from the children's wing," he breathed.
A messenger burst in, bloody and panicked. "Your Highness! The Covenant! They're attacking the festival! They're targeting the children—they want to draw out the princess!"
My blood turned to ice. Grandmother Nyx wasn't just coming for me.
She was using innocent children as bait.
And it was all my fault.