Chapter 24
Merrit
Iwaited.
Kieran's breathing had evened out minutes ago, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. Through the bond, his exhaustion pulled him deeper, his mind finally quiet after the chaos of the day.
I should have felt guilty. Should have hated myself for what I was about to do.
But all I felt was determination.
The past three days waiting for the Exhibition, I'd spent every spare moment memorizing the castle. Servant passages, guard rotations, the layout of the advisors' wing. Kieran thought I was resting, recovering, but I'd been preparing.
And now, lying in his arms while he slept, I was going to use everything I'd learned.
“I'm sorry,” I projected into the bond, knowing he was too deep in sleep to hear it. “But I have to know.”
Carefully, so carefully, I began to extract myself from his embrace. His arm tightened reflexively, and I froze, my heart hammering. I kept my emotions muted—sleepy, content, nothing to wake him.
After a moment, his grip loosened.
I slid out of bed inch by inch, my bare feet silent on the cold stone floor. Kieran shifted, rolling onto his back, one arm sprawled across the space I'd just vacated.
He looked peaceful. Younger, somehow, without the weight of the Crown and Court pressing down on him. The moonlight through the window cast shadows across his face, softening the hard edges.
I loved him. Saints help me, I loved him.
And I was about to break every promise I'd made to stay safe.
But Tobias had recognized my scar. Those fragments I'd caught from his thoughts—blood, screaming, a small room—they'd been haunting me. And if he knew something about my past, about the family I couldn't remember, I needed to know what.
I needed proof to free Elias.
And I needed answers for myself.
Moving quickly now, I dressed in the darkest clothes I could find—practical things from my Divide days that Serenya had insisted I keep "for sentimental value." Black trousers, a dark shirt, soft-soled boots that wouldn't echo on stone.
I strapped a knife to my thigh. Small, sharp, the kind I'd carried for years when working late nights at the bar.
One last look at Kieran, sleeping peacefully, trusting me to be beside him when he woke.
“I'm sorry,” I projected again. “I love you. But I can't let this go.”
Then I slipped out the door and into the darkened corridor.
The castle at night was a different beast entirely.
Shadows pooled in corners, thick and menacing. Torches burned low in their sconces, casting more darkness than light. Every creak of settling stone made my heart jump, every distant footstep sent me pressing against the wall.
But I'd planned for this.
The servant passages I'd memorized were mostly empty this late—the staff had retired hours ago, leaving only the night watch to patrol the main corridors. I moved through the narrow spaces like a ghost, counting doorways, remembering turns.
Left at the third junction. Down the stairs. Past the kitchens where the banked fires still glowed.
A guard's voice echoed from somewhere ahead, and I ducked into an alcove, holding my breath. Two of them passed by the main corridor just beyond my hiding spot, their conversation low and bored.
"—heard Elias is locked up in the residential wing—"
"—about time someone dealt with the traitor—"
"—Prince seemed pretty torn up about it, though—"
Their voices faded as they continued their patrol.
I waited a full minute before moving again.
The advisors' wing was quieter than I'd expected. No guards posted outside the doors—why would there be? They were trusted members of the Court, not prisoners. The hallway stretched before me, lined with identical doors bearing brass nameplates.
I counted them as I walked, my heart pounding so loud I was sure someone would hear it.
Three doors down. There. Tobias Serrant, Royal Advisor
The nameplate gleamed in the low torchlight, polished and pristine. Just like everything else about him.
I pulled my lockpicks from my pocket—thin metal tools I'd learned to use in the Divide, when getting into locked storage rooms meant the difference between eating and starving.
The lock was better than I'd expected. Complex, well-made, likely spelled with minor protections. My hands shook as I worked, the picks scraping softly against the mechanism.
Come on, come on—
A sound down the hallway made me freeze. Footsteps. Getting closer.
I worked faster, my fingers clumsy with panic. The lock resisted, fighting me, and I wanted to scream with frustration.
The footsteps were almost at the corner—
Click.
I shoved the door open, slipped inside, and eased it closed behind me, just as light from a lantern spilled into the hallway. I pressed my back against the door, not breathing, as whoever it was walked past.
Their footsteps faded.
I let out a shaky breath and turned to face the room.
Moonlight streamed through tall windows, casting everything in silver and shadow.
The chamber was exactly what I'd expected from Tobias—neat, orderly, almost obsessively so.
Books lined the shelves in perfect rows.
Papers on the desk were stacked with military precision. Not a single item out of place.
It smelled like old parchment and something else. Something metallic and faintly sweet that made my stomach turn.
Blood magic.
I moved to the desk first, careful not to disturb anything. Letters, reports, schedules—all innocuous. All exactly what a royal advisor should have.
The bookshelves were next. Histories, political treatises, books on governance and law. Nothing suspicious.
I checked the wardrobe. Clothes, all dark and expensive. A few cloaks. Nothing hidden in the pockets or lining.
Growing frustrated, I returned to the desk, running my hands along the drawers, checking for false bottoms or hidden compartments. This was taking too long. Kieran could wake at any moment, reach for me through the bond, realize I was gone—
My fingers caught on something. A slight inconsistency in the wood of the bottom drawer.
I pulled the drawer out completely, set it aside, and there—a false bottom, expertly crafted but just slightly off if you knew to look.
My hands shook as I pried it open.
Inside: files, old ones, some of the paper yellowed with age.
I pulled them out, spreading them across the desk, and my breath caught.
Names. Descriptions. Locations.
All mind readers.
All marked ELIMINATED in blood-red ink.
Oh, gods.
This wasn't just evidence of framing Elias. This was a list of murders spanning decades. Maybe longer.
I forced myself to read, even as my stomach churned.
Subject: Marcus Lark, Age 34, Shifter (wolf), Telepathic
Location: Southern Morathen
Threat Level: Moderate
Status: ELIMINATED
Method: Arranged accident. Cliff fall during hunt. Body recovered.
Subject: Lyra Moonwhisper, Age 156, Fae, Telepathic
Location: Eastern Morathen
Threat Level: High
Status: ELIMINATED
Method: Poison. Slow-acting. Subject expired over three days. Screaming minimal.
The clinical language. The casual notation of suffering. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the pages.
There were dozens of them. Fifty, maybe more.
Subject: Helena Darkwater, Age 12, Vampire (turned young), Telepathic
Location: Capital City
Threat Level: Extreme - child vampire with mental abilities
Status: ELIMINATED
Method: Staking. Quick. Child cried for mother. Ignored.
A child. He'd killed a child.
I wanted to be sick. But I kept reading, because I had to know. Had to see if—
There. At the bottom of the stack. The file was thicker than the others, dated more recently. Twenty years ago. My hands trembled as I opened it.
Assignment Record Date: 18th day of Autumn
Location: Ashford Village, Northern Morathen
Subjects: Aldric Vaerin, Fae, Age 167, Scholar, Telepathic
Elara Vaerin, Witch, Age 134, Healer, Telepathic
Child (female), Fae/Witch Hybrid, Age 10, Telepathic (emerging)
Threat Level: EXTREME
My vision blurred. The words swam on the page.
Vaerin. My name was Vaerin. Not Locke. That name had been... what? A lie? A protection? Something the orphanage made up?
I had a real name. They had names. Aldric. Elara. My parents.
I forced myself to keep reading through the tears.
Threat Assessment: Telepaths immune to mental compulsion.
Family unit of three represents uncontrollable element in vampire-ruled province.
Hybrid offspring power level unknown. Fae/Witch combination untested in records - potential for abilities beyond either parent species.
Cannot permit immunity to royal authority.
Method of Elimination: Subjects 1 & 2: Direct physical elimination.
Neither could be compelled to compliance.
Subject 1 (Aldric) resisted. Fae strength considerable.
Required sustained force. Eventually subdued.
Subject 2 (Elara) fought to protect offspring.
Begged for child's life. Emotional manipulation ignored.
Throat wound during struggle proved fatal.
Subject 3 (Child): Small, weak. Eliminated with mother.
Structure burned. Evidence destroyed. Apprentice Solis confirmed: three bodies recovered from ruins. Assignment complete.
The words blurred completely now. I couldn't see through the tears.
My mother had fought for me. Had begged for my life. And Tobias had killed her, anyway. Killed all of us. Except—
I was alive.
Which meant Solis had lied in his report.
Which meant Solis had saved me.
Which meant he'd known all along who I was, what I was, and he'd been carrying that secret for twenty years.
I shoved the thought aside. I could deal with Solis later. Right now—
There was a portrait tucked into the back of the file. Small, painted on aged parchment, the kind of magical image that captured a moment in time.
A man with kind eyes and sharp Fae features, his dark hair shot through with silver. Scholarly, gentle, with a half-smile, like he was thinking of something amusing.
A woman with copper hair like mine, bright green eyes, her hands glowing faintly with healing magic as she laughed at something beyond the frame.
And between them, a girl. Maybe nine or ten, all wild red waves and gangly limbs, holding a book nearly as big as she was. She had her mother's eyes, her father's pointed chin, and a defiant tilt to her shoulders that looked achingly familiar.
Me. That was me.
I had been loved. I had been wanted. My parents had been good people—a scholar and a healer, living quietly, hurting no one. And Tobias had murdered them.
Not because they were threats. Not because they'd done anything wrong.
But because they couldn't be controlled. Because I couldn't be controlled.
Anger unlike anything I’d ever felt before hit me like a physical blow.
I stared at the files, hands shaking—not with grief, but with fury.
My parents had kept to themselves, and used their gifts carefully, without offense or harm. And Tobias had butchered them for what they might become. What I might become.
"Unacceptable risk."
"Preventive measure."
Polite words for murdering a family.
I wanted to scream. Wanted to tear the files to shreds, burn them like he'd burned my home. Wanted to march back to Kieran's chambers, wake him up, and demand they drag Tobias to the dungeons now.
But that wouldn't help Elias. Wouldn't prove anything except that I'd disobeyed Kieran and broken into an advisor's chambers.
I needed to take the files. Needed proof.
My hands were trembling as I shoved the portrait and key documents into my shirt. Evidence. Finally, I had—
Footsteps sounded in the corridor.
I froze, my heart stuttering in my chest.
No. No no no—
The footsteps stopped outside the door.
A key scraped in the lock.
I looked around desperately. The window—too high, no escape. The wardrobe—too obvious. Under the desk—
The door opened.
Tobias stood in the doorway, his expression completely unsurprised.
"I wondered when you'd come looking," he said calmly.
For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other. Me with the files still clutched in my hands, him blocking the only exit.
Then I bolted.
I didn't think. Didn't plan. Just moved, trying to get past him, to the door, to—
He was faster.
His hand caught my wrist, yanking me back with vampiric strength, sending pain shooting up my arm. I tried to scream, reaching desperately for the bond—
“Kieran!”
But Tobias pulled a small vial from his coat, crushing it against the floor between us.
Purple smoke erupted, thick and choking. It filled my lungs, burned my throat, and the bond—
The bond went silent.
Not muffled. Not distant. Silent.
Like someone had severed the connection completely.
I tried to reach for Kieran again, screaming through the mental void, but there was nothing. Just static. Just emptiness.
My legs gave out.
The world tilted sideways, and I hit the floor hard, the files scattering around me. I tried to get up, to crawl, to do anything, but my body wouldn't respond. The smoke had paralyzed me, leaving me conscious but helpless.
Tobias crouched beside me, his face coming into view. Calm. Almost gentle.
"You should have stayed dead, little girl," he said softly.
I tried to spit at him, to curse, but my jaw wouldn't work.
He picked up one of the scattered files—my family's file—and studied the portrait with something like nostalgia. "You have your mother's eyes," he mused. "I remember them. She looked at me just like this when I—" He stopped himself and smiled. "Well. You'll learn all about it soon enough."
No. No.
I tried to move, to fight, but the paralysis held firm. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, the only part of me I could still control.
Tobias set the file aside and lifted me easily, my paralyzed body limp in his arms.
"Don't worry," he said, carrying me toward the door. "I have so many questions for you. Like how you survived? Who helped you? What you remember."
He paused in the doorway, looking down at me with cold curiosity.
"And once I have my answers, I'll finish what I started twenty years ago."
He carried me out into the corridor. Cold air hit my face—we were moving outside, away from the castle. I tried to scream through the bond again, desperate, terrified—
“Kieran, please. Please!”
Nothing. Just that terrible, empty silence.
Voices sounded somewhere nearby. Others were helping him. And a carriage waited in the shadows.
"Carefully," Tobias instructed someone. "She's valuable. For now."
They loaded me into the carriage like cargo. I couldn't move, couldn't fight, couldn't do anything but lie there and feel the vehicle start to move.
Taking me away from the castle. Away from Kieran. Away from any hope of rescue.
My last conscious thought before the darkness took me completely:
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you.”
But the bond stayed silent.
And the carriage rolled on into the night.