Chapter 41
Chapter
Forty-One
The summons rang out across the castle grounds, a crisp horn blast that echoed through the trees, bouncing off the stone towers and rippling through the courtyards like a call to arms.
Major Ledor’s voice followed swiftly after.
“All riders—Ascension Grounds. Now.”
We fell into motion like instinct, like training had etched the command into our bones. The others met me outside the barracks, weapons strapped, leathers dusted with wear. We joined the stream of riders moving toward the training rings, and for a moment, it felt like any other day.
But it wasn’t.
There was a shadow now, an awareness. That the game being played in the halls above us had already begun rewriting the rules.
We trained hard. Drills, one-on-one combat, reaction sequences.
Kaelith soared overhead with the others, a low rumble of amusement threading into my mind when Jax took a slow fall into the dirt during a tumble drill.
We sparred in rotations, but it all felt sharper now, like everyone was waiting for the next blow to come from anywhere.
As I circled the ring, sweaty and breathing hard, Riven fell into step beside me, stretching her shoulder.
“You feel it too, right?” she murmured, just low enough that only I could hear.
I glanced at her. “Feel what?”
“Like we’re being moved on a board by players we haven’t seen.”
I nodded, lips tight. “Court politics are a storm. And we’re right in the center of it.”
She snorted. “Feels more like a blade at our backs, telling us where to go.”
“And we’re supposed to smile while it happens.”
Riven’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. “Let them keep underestimating us. Eventually, someone’s going to try to shove the wrong pawn.”
I didn’t respond. But I felt Kaelith’s approval flare softly in my mind.
The drills ended shortly after, and the major dismissed us to prepare for dinner. My squad was already speculating about what stew we’d be punished with tonight when I noticed a court courier moving through the crowd.
He made a beeline for me, slipping between two Crownwatch riders with a polite nod.
“Message for Ashlyn Rebec,” he said, holding out a tightly sealed parchment.
The wax was unbroken, the seal pressed with the emblem of the king’s household.
I took it slowly.
The air around me shifted again, like the game board had just moved.
And this time, I was the piece being played.
I broke the wax seal with a flick of my thumb, the parchment crinkling slightly in my fingers as I unfolded it. My eyes skimmed the short message, and I blinked in surprise.
“Meet me in my room.”
It was signed neatly, his full name scrawled beneath in Zander’s precise hand.
But what struck me wasn’t the message, it was the seal on the outside. A royal crest, stamped in deep crimson wax. Official.
Why would he send something like this… formally?
My brow furrowed. Maybe he wanted it to appear like a command. Something routine. Just another order from one royal to a prospect.
Clever. Too clever.
I glanced up and nodded to the courier. “I’ll follow.”
He didn’t say a word, just turned sharply on his heel and led me toward the castle steps. We slipped through the main doors, weaving past servants and lesser nobles who gave brief nods of respect, most too focused on their own whispered dealings to notice me.
The corridor toward Zander’s chambers felt longer than usual, the stone halls oddly quiet this close to dinner. Tension rode the air like a pulse beneath the stone.
The courier stopped outside the familiar door, bowed once, and hurried off without a word.
Odd, I thought. But I didn’t pause.
I placed my hand on the handle, took a breath, and pushed the door open.
The door creaked softly as I stepped inside.
The room was empty.
No Zander. No noise. Just the gentle hush of firelight flickering from the hearth and the faint scent of lavender, clean, calm, intentional.
It was pristine. Not a single piece of clothing out of place. The bed was made tightly, the fur throw folded with surgical precision. Everything was… immaculate. Too immaculate, as if it had been reset.
The last time I’d been here, blood had stained the sheets, and Zander had been clinging to life by a thread. Now, the room looked untouched. Restored.
Except for the small box on the dresser.
It sat perfectly centered, polished wood gleaming in the light, the royal crest stamped into the lid in molten gold. The edges were wrapped in a thin band of crimson silk, delicate but exacting in its craftsmanship. This wasn’t just decoration. This was something meant to be seen.
Curiosity pulled me forward before I could stop myself. I reached out, fingers brushing over the carved crest, the raised insignia warm beneath my touch.
I lifted the lid.
Inside, nestled in dark velvet, was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen.
It shimmered with woven bands of pale silver and deep storm-gray metal, braided like wind threading through steel.
At its center sat a dragonstone gem, glinting with flickers of purple and blue, as though caught in the very breath of a storm.
Runes etched along the inside flickered faintly, reacting to my presence.
It was alive with magic.
It wasn’t just beautiful, it was powerful. A symbol. A warning. A promise.
Had it been left here… for me?
My heart fluttered wildly as I stared at the ring, its magic humming like a song I somehow already knew.
It shimmered with Kaelith’s color, stormlight and flame, woven into metal and stone.
It didn’t just look powerful, it felt sacred.
Like it had weight in the world, and meaning beyond what I could see.
Is this for me?
The question echoed, trembling in my chest.
My fingers hovered over it, almost touching the velvet edge, when the door creaked open behind me.
I spun, hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at my thigh.
She stepped inside like she owned the room. No—like she belonged in every room.
Tall. Regal. Unshakably composed.
Her golden hair spilled in smooth, soft waves down her back, gleaming like sunlight through crystal.
Her eyes were cool blue, sharp, watchful, impossible to read.
And the gown she wore was the finest I had ever seen, deep-wine velvet with gold-threaded embroidery along the bodice and sleeves, the sort of thing you only ever saw in court portraits.
A delicate circlet rested atop her head, not quite a crown, but close.
She looked like a queen.
Her gaze flicked to me, then to the box, then back again—no emotion, just the faintest arch of one perfect brow.
“That ring,” she said, her voice low and cultured, “belonged to Zander’s mother.”
I swallowed, the air suddenly heavier. “It’s… beautiful.”
She stepped closer, her heels making no sound against the polished floor. Her hand hovered over the box, but she didn’t touch it.
“It was forged in the first decade of the Unification,” she said softly, eyes still on the ring. “Created by the finest fae-smith and dragon-forged in fire blessed by the Unifier himself.”
I blinked. “The first king’s dragon?”
She nodded once. “It was a gift to the queen from her husband’s dragon. Not just a token of affection, but a bond mark. Symbol of unity between rider and his chosen. Between bloodlines and dragons.”
I stared at it, chest tight. “And now it’s here.”
Her eyes met mine, cool and firm.
“Yes,” she said. “Now it’s here.”
And I couldn’t help but wonder…
Why.
My heart was still pounding from the sight of the ring, but now it slowed, cold and uncertain, as I turned to face the woman fully.
“Who are you?” I asked carefully, voice low, not hostile, but wary.
She smiled faintly, the kind of smile practiced in mirrors and marble halls. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“My name is Inderia,” she said, with the kind of poise that wrapped her name in silk.
I glanced at the ring again. “You seem to know a lot about it.”
“I do,” she said without hesitation. “I’ve known Zander since I was five years old.”
That made something in me tighten.
It made sense, I told myself. Royals moved in tight circles. Old families. Shared tutors and traditions and secrets carved into stone long before I was even born.
“Do you… live here?” I asked, struggling to keep my tone even.
“Not yet,” Inderia replied smoothly, clasping her hands in front of her waist. “I’ve been away for some time. Required to attend court classes in Brosha.”
I raised a brow. “Court classes?”
She tilted her head slightly. “It’s required of all princesses within the royal houses of Warriath. Education. Etiquette. Political strategy. Military awareness.”
“That sounds very dull,” I said, managing a small smile.
Her expression didn’t change. “It is.”
I glanced toward the door, then back to her, the silence stretching between us like drawn steel. “Are you waiting for Zander?”
She didn’t even blink.
“No,” she said. “I was the one who summoned you.”
The world tilted just slightly beneath me.
The official seal.
The formal courier.
The box.
It hadn’t been from Zander.
It had been her all along.
My body went still.
Cold. First in my chest. Then my hands. The kind of chill that comes after a wound, when the blood hasn’t yet caught up to the pain.
I stared at her, the words circling in my mind like hornets. “I… excuse me?” I said, barely recognizing my own voice.
Inderia inclined her head slightly, her golden hair falling like a curtain over one shoulder. Still composed. Still regal. As if she hadn’t just tried to gut me with a silk-wrapped dagger.
“It is considered acceptable,” she said smoothly, as though we were discussing the weather, “for a male prince to… sow his wild oats in his younger years. Especially one as unconventional as Zander.”
My mouth opened, but no words came.
Unconventional?
She meant me.
“But Zander has an important future,” she continued, as though my silence was consent. “And I believe he will soon need to make decisions that are… appropriate for someone of his station.”
My blood boiled. The ring in the box. The seal. The practiced smile. This had all been an audition.
I stepped closer, the heat rising in my chest. “Let me ask you something,” I said, barely above a whisper. “Who do you think you are to summon me here and speak to me like I’m some—”
“—His fiancée,” she said.
I froze.
Everything inside me halted. My breath. My thoughts.
Her eyes met mine fully for the first time. Cold. Calculating. Not cruel, but claiming.
“I am Princess Inderia Claen of Brosha. And I have been betrothed to Prince Zander Rayne for three years.”
It all made sense.
The seal.
The ring.
The pedigree.
She wasn’t just another noble.
She was Zander’s future wife.
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