Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
The castle was unnervingly quiet as I lay in bed, the heavy silence broken only by the occasional crackle of the dying fire. The night was oppressive, thick with the weight of things unsaid. The warmth of Ciaran’s kiss had long since faded, replaced by a cold emptiness that gnawed at my chest. The whispers had already spread like wildfire through the castle—whispers of us, of the kiss on the balcony. One that now felt stolen, cheapened by the eyes that had witnessed it.
I shifted under the covers, trying to dispel the unease that had settled in my bones. The fire flickered weakly, casting a dim light across the room, but it didn’t chase away the shadows.
At first, I thought it was a bundle of fabric, discarded carelessly near the door. But there was something off about it, something that sent a chill racing down my spine. I slid out of bed, my feet cold against the stone floor as I crept toward the dark shape. The closer I got, the stronger the scent became—a mix of copper and decay. My heart pounded in my chest as I knelt down, my fingers trembling as they reached for the bundle.
When I peeled back the cloth, a strangled gasp escaped my lips.
A raven. Its dark feathers were soaked in blood, its lifeless eyes staring up at me, wide and glassy. Its neck had been twisted at an unnatural angle, and deep gashes marred its small body, as if it had been savaged before being left here. The stench of death hit me full force, and I recoiled, stumbling back from the gruesome sight.
It wasn’t just an animal—it was a message.
My hands shook as I covered my mouth, trying to steady my breath. The raven was one of the royal birds, used to deliver messages across the kingdom. But this one wasn’t carrying a letter. This one had been left here as a threat. A warning.
I didn’t need to guess who had done it. The answer was all too clear.
Lyra .
Her cold, calculating gaze filled my mind, and I clenched my fists, anger rising to the surface. She was toying with me, pushing me to react, to show weakness. The dead raven was just the beginning. It was a sign of how far she was willing to go to assert her dominance, to remind me that I didn’t belong here, that I was still an outsider.
I stumbled back, away from the carcass, my breaths shallow and quick. My skin prickled with a sensation that I couldn’t shake. She wanted me to know she could reach me, even here, in the supposed safety of my chambers.
I hadn’t told anyone about the dead animal, but as I got dressed the next morning, I couldn’t push the image out of my mind. The lifeless bird. The stench of death. Lyra’s cruel eyes watching me like a hawk.
The morning air was cool and crisp as I made my way to the training yard, my mind still haunted by the raven.
When I arrived at the training grounds, Ciaran was already there, surrounded by soldiers. But today, it wasn’t him who commanded my attention—it was Lyra. She stood near him, laughing softly, but her eyes pitched to me with that same cold calculation I’d come to expect from her.
She was dangerous. And I couldn’t let my guard down, not for a second.
We squared off in the training yard, both of us holding wooden practice swords. Lyra had been insistent on sparring with me today, her smile never quite reaching her eyes.
“You must have felt so important when he kissed you,” Lyra said, her eyes gleaming with malice. “For a moment, you were the star of the show. How did it feel?”
The memory of Ciaran’s lips on mine flashed through my mind. It had felt… shocking. But afterward, all I had been left with was confusion and doubt. And now, I was standing here, with the weight of Lyra’s cruel gaze bearing down on me.
I swung the sword at her, but Lyra dodged easily, stepping to the side with a smug smile. “Let me give you a little piece of advice.” Her voice dropped. “It was all for show. He doesn’t really care about you. That kiss? It wasn’t real.”
Her words sliced through me. I had tried to convince myself that Ciaran’s kiss mattered, that it was more than just a scheme. But hearing Lyra say it, hearing the venom in her voice, made the doubt in my chest spread like poison.
“You think he likes you?” Lyra continued, her eyes glinting with malice. “He’s only keeping you close because of the Dragon King. He’s drawing him out, using you to get to him. You’re nothing but bait.”
I swung again, harder this time, but Lyra blocked my strike. The force of it reverberated up my arms, and she twisted her wrist, pushing me back.
“Do you really think you can compete?” she whispered, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’re nothing compared to me.”
My heart raced as I struggled to keep up with her. She was faster than I expected, and her movements were precise, controlled. It wasn’t long before she found an opening.
Her wooden sword came in low, and before I could react, the edge of it grazed my cheek.
I gasped as the sting of the cut registered, a thin line of blood welling up on my skin. Lyra’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she stepped back, lowering her sword. She had meant to draw blood. It wasn’t an accident.
“Oops,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet. “Did I get a little too close?”
I pressed a hand to my cheek, feeling the warmth of the blood seeping between my fingers. My heart pounded in my chest, anger rising like a tide. Lyra smiled, stepping back as if the entire thing had been nothing more than a harmless mistake.
Before I could say anything, I heard footsteps approaching.
Ciaran.
The moment he entered the yard, the atmosphere shifted. Lyra straightened, her entire demeanor changing in an instant. The cruel gleam in her eyes was gone, replaced by a look of soft concern.
“Ciaran,” she said sweetly, turning to face him with a perfectly practiced smile. “We were just training. I’m afraid I was a little too rough with the princess.” She glanced at me, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, before turning back to him. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
Ciaran’s eyes flicked to me, and when he saw the blood on my cheek, his expression darkened. He crossed the yard quickly, his gaze filled with concern as he approached me. “Aeliana, are you all right?”
I swallowed, my hand still pressed to the cut on my cheek. “It’s just a scratch.”
But Ciaran wasn’t convinced. His hand reached out, gently brushing my fingers aside so he could see the wound for himself. The touch was so light, so careful, and for a moment, I felt a flicker of warmth in my chest.
“I’ll have someone take care of this,” he said quietly.
Lyra’s expression didn’t waver, but I could see the irritation flickering behind her eyes. “It was an accident,” she repeated, her voice innocent and sweet. “I was just a bit too aggressive.”
Ciaran’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he turned to Lyra, his expression hardening. “Be more careful next time.”
Lyra bowed her head slightly, her smile never faltering. “Of course, my king. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
But we both knew that was a lie.
The sting of the cut on my cheek burned, the dull throb a constant reminder of the tension that had been brewing between us, the wives, and Ciaran. Blood had dried against my skin, but the wound wasn’t what hurt the most. It was the look in Ciaran’s eyes, his failure to stop Lyra, and the way I felt increasingly like a pawn in this dangerous game.
Lyra’s eyes jerked to me, and her lips twisted in triumph, before she turned to follow Ciaran across the yard. The king’s favorite wife. The one who had everything to lose. The one who would stop at nothing to keep her power.
The moment they were gone, the tension that had been choking the air snapped.
“Are you okay?” Rhydian’s voice, rough and filled with concern, cut through the silence like a blade.
I hadn’t noticed him approach, but when I turned, his eyes were already locked onto the cut on my cheek. Violence flashed in his gaze, his entire posture rigid with tension, fists clenched so tightly at his sides that the veins in his forearms bulged. He was barely holding himself back from storming after them; I could see it in every taut line of his body.
“Did she do that?” His voice was low, a growl, though it trembled with the restraint of barely contained rage.
I nodded slowly, not trusting myself to speak.
Rhydian’s fists tightened further, and he exhaled through his nose. “Damn her.” His words were like thunder rumbling from deep within his chest. “And Ciaran just stood there? Let her get away with it?”
I shook my head. “He didn’t see it—” I paused, swallowing hard, knowing even as I said it that I was making excuses for Ciaran. “Lyra made it look like an accident. He doesn’t know.”
Rhydian’s eyes darkened further, his brow furrowing in disbelief. “He doesn’t know?” His voice rose, his anger boiling over. “You think that changes anything? You think his ignorance is going to protect you from what’s coming?”
I looked away, biting my lip. Rhydian wasn’t just angry about Lyra—this was bigger than her. It had been bigger than her from the moment Ciaran kissed me on that balcony. The court had seen. The kingdom had seen. And if the whispers had already reached every corner of the palace, how long before they reached Valen? How long before he saw that kiss for what it really was—a challenge, a taunt.
“I’m not letting this go,” Rhydian growled, breaking through my spiraling thoughts. “I told him. I told him this would happen. That he was drawing too much attention, that his wives would act out. And now you’re the one caught in the middle.”
He turned, violence radiating off him as he stalked toward the exit of the training yard.
“Rhydian, wait!” I called, my heart lurching. “Don’t—please.”
But he didn’t stop. His long strides carried him quickly across the yard, and all I could do was follow, my pulse hammering in my chest. I knew where he was going. I knew what was about to happen. And I wasn’t sure I could stop it.
By the time I caught up, Rhydian had already reached Ciaran, who was standing near the weapon racks at the far end of the training yard. Lyra lingered nearby, her head tilted slightly as if she was enjoying the tension, her eyes glinting with amusement. She could sense the storm brewing, and she seemed to relish in it.
“Are you happy now?” Rhydian’s voice was harsh he stormed up to Ciaran.
Ciaran turned slowly, his brows furrowing as he met Rhydian’s heated gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“You kissed her on an open balcony, practically in front of the entire court. You think that went unnoticed? You’ve put a target on her back. The Dragon King is coming for her. Your wives want her dead. And you don’t even care.”
Ciaran’s expression darkened, his posture straightening as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re overreacting,” he said coldly. “What happened on the balcony is between me and Aeliana.”
“Overreacting? You’ve been parading her around like a trophy, and now she’s paying the price. You think no one’s watching? You think the Dragon King won’t hear about this?”
Ciaran’s eyes flickered, and his jaw tightened at the mention of Valen. “The Dragon King has no claim to her,” Ciaran said. “And Aeliana and I have an agreement to draw him out. This is all part of the plan.”
“You don’t get it, do you? You’ve been taunting him this whole time. That kiss wasn’t just for show, it was a damned invitation, and now?—”
Ciaran cut him off. “I’m capable of taking him down.”
“Your weapons are not enough!” Rhydian shouted. “You’re daring him to make a move. You’re using her to provoke him.”
Ciaran’s expression hardened. “You don’t tell me how to protect my wife.”
“You’re not protecting her, Ciaran. You’re using her. You’re making her a target for Valen. And not just him—for Lyra too.”
Ciaran’s eyes flicked toward Lyra, his gaze cold and calculating, before shifting back to Rhydian. “Lyra’s not a threat.”
Rhydian’s laugh was bitter, full of disbelief. “She’s already drawn blood,” he growled, gesturing toward the cut on my cheek. “And you let it happen. You’re letting your wives close in on her, waiting for her to slip so they can strike. How much more will it take before you wake up and see it? You’re going to get her killed, Ciaran.”
“You think you’re the only one who can protect her?” Ciaran growled. “You think I don’t care about her? You’re wrong.”
Rhydian’s eyes flared with jealousy, and his voice trembled with barely contained rage. “If you cared about her, you’d keep her safe from the real threats—like your wives.”
“I am keeping her safe.”
“No, you’re not,” Rhydian snarled. “You’re putting her right in the middle of a war she didn’t ask for. And I won’t stand by and let you do it.”
Finally, Ciaran exhaled sharply. “I’ll handle it.”
“You’d better,” Rhydian spat. “Before it’s too late.”
My heart pounded in my chest as I stood there, caught between them, unsure of what to say, unsure of who to trust.
“Aeliana,” Ciaran said, his voice quieter, filled with a promise that felt too fragile to hold. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
But as I looked into his eyes, the doubt that had been creeping in for so long finally settled. Could he really protect me? Or was I just another piece in a game that had already spiraled out of control?
I wasn’t sure.
And I wasn’t sure if Ciaran was, either.