Chapter 25
Kieran
Something was wrong.
I knew it before I opened my eyes, before I reached across the bed to find cold sheets and an empty space where Merrit should have been.
Through the bond, I reached for her—
Nothing.
I sat up, heart suddenly pounding. Not the comfortable quiet of her sleeping beside me. Not the distant hum of her being in another room.
Nothing.
Complete and utter silence, like the bond had been cut with a knife.
"Merrit?"
My voice echoed in the empty chamber. No answer from the bathing room. No sound of her moving about. I threw off the covers, checking the room with growing panic. Her clothes—the practical ones from the Divide—were gone. The knife she kept strapped to her thigh. Her soft-soled boots.
She'd dressed for stealth. For breaking in somewhere she shouldn't be.
No. Please, no.
I reached for the bond again, desperate, and found the same terrible emptiness.
She was gone. And I couldn't feel her.
The bond had never been silent. Not since the moment it formed. Even when she slept, even when she shielded her thoughts, there was always a presence. A warmth. A connection that hummed between us like a heartbeat.
Now there was nothing. Either the bond had been severed—
Or she was dead.
No.
I refused to believe it. Refused to accept that she could be gone, just gone, with no warning, no chance of saving her. Which meant someone had blocked it. Which meant she was alive. Which meant someone had taken her.
Or worse—she'd gone somewhere dangerous on her own.
Tobias.
The realization hit like a fist to the gut.
She'd promised to stay away from him. Promised to let me handle the investigation. But I'd felt her determination last night, that flicker of thought she couldn't quite hide.
She'd planned this. Waited for me to fall asleep. Snuck out to search his chambers for proof.
That stubborn, brave, reckless—
I was already moving, throwing on clothes without bothering to fully dress. Shirt, trousers, boots. Good enough.
I ran.
Servants scattered as I tore through the corridors, my footsteps echoing off stone. Guards straightened, alarmed.
"Your Highness—"
I didn't stop to explain. Just ran, following the path I knew she would have taken. The advisors' wing. Tobias’ chambers.
Please let me be wrong. Please let her have stayed safe in bed and I'm just paranoid—
But I knew. The silent bond, her missing clothes, the way she'd looked at me last night with that terrible determination. She'd gone after Tobias alone.
The advisors' wing was quiet, still dark in the pre-dawn gloom. I counted doors as I ran, my heart hammering.
There. Tobias Serrant, Royal Advisor.
The door was closed but unlocked.
That was wrong. Tobias locked everything. The man was paranoid about security, always had been.
Unless he'd left in a hurry.
Unless he'd had a reason to abandon his chambers.
I shoved the door open.
The room was pristine—exactly as Tobias kept it. Books in perfect rows, papers stacked with meticulous attention. Everything neat, orderly, obsessively controlled.
Except—
A drawer pulled out from the desk and set aside on the floor. The false bottom exposed, empty. Files scattered across the desk surface; some spilled onto the floor like someone had dropped them in a hurry.
And the scent. Gods, the scent.
Merrit's scent—determination and fear—mixed with something else. Something metallic and sickly sweet that made my stomach turn.
Blood magic.
I crossed to the desk, hands shaking as I picked up the files.
Names. Dates. Descriptions.
ELIMINATED stamped across them in blood-red ink.
Subject: Marcus Lark, Age 34, Shifter (wolf), Telepathic
Status: ELIMINATED
Method: Arranged accident. Cliff fall during hunt.
Subject: Lyra Moonwhisper, Age 156, Fae, Telepathic
Status: ELIMINATED
Method: Poison. Slow-acting. Subject expired over three days.
I flipped through them with growing horror. Dozens of them. Dozens. All telepaths. All murdered.
All by Tobias.
My father's most trusted advisor. The man who'd served the Crown for six centuries. A monster hiding in plain sight.
And I'd never suspected. Never questioned. Never looked.
I reached for the bond again, desperate—
Still nothing.
One file lay separate from the rest, on the floor like it had been dropped. Thicker than the others, the folder more recent.
I picked it up, and a portrait slipped out immediately, landing face-up on the desk.
The Fae looked scholarly, compassion softening his features, his hair peppered with silver threads.
His companion—a witch with bright emerald eyes and copper-colored hair—laughed freely, her hands radiating the gentle glow of healing magic.
Between them: a girl of about ten summers, red curls rioting around her face, shoulders squared in defiance as she gripped an enormous book.
My heart stuttered in my chest.
That face. Those eyes. That stubborn tilt to her chin.
Merrit.
That was Merrit.
Younger, smaller, but unmistakably her. The same copper hair, the same green eyes, the same fierce determination in every line of her small body.
I forced myself to look at the file.
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)
Vaerin. Not Locke. That was a false name, given to her for protection.
Her real name was Vaerin.
The scholar in the portrait. The healer. Her parents.
I forced myself to keep reading, even as rage built in my chest.
Method of Elimination: Subject 1 (Aldric) resisted.
Fae strength considerable. Required sustained force.
Eventually subdued. Subject 2 (Elara) fought to protect offspring.
Begged for child's life. 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.
Solis.
Solis had been there.
My eyes went back to the portrait. To the smiling woman with Merrit's copper hair. To the gentle Fae man with kind eyes. To the ten-year-old girl who didn't know she had minutes left to live.
Tobias had murdered them. Had tried to murder her.
And somehow, she'd survived, hidden in the Divide for twenty years under a false name.
Until he'd seen her scar at the Exhibition.
Until he'd recognized her.
And now he had her.
Rage flared slowly at first. A cold, soul-deep, creeping fury that started in my chest and spread like ice through my veins.
Then it exploded.
I didn't remember moving. Didn't remember making the decision. One moment, I was staring at the portrait of Merrit's murdered family, and the next, I was destroying everything.
The desk overturned with a crash. Books flew from shelves, spines cracking against the walls. Papers scattered like leaves. I tore through Tobias’ perfect, pristine chambers with my bare hands, roaring with a fury I'd never felt before.
He'd murdered them. Murdered dozens of innocent people for the crime of being born with abilities they couldn't control.
And then he'd taken Merrit. My Merrit. The woman I'd just told I loved, who'd smiled at me with such trust and hope—
Footsteps thundered in the corridor. Guards burst through the door, weapons drawn. "Your Highness—"
"Get out," I snarled.
They backed away, eyes wide. Smart.
I stood in the ruins of Tobias' chambers, breathing hard, files clutched in my hands. The portrait of Merrit's family stared up at me from the floor.
More footsteps dared to enter the corridor. Slower this time. Measured.
Solis appeared in the doorway, took one look at the destruction, and went pale.
His eyes landed on the files in my hands. The portrait on the floor. "Kieran—"
I moved.
Didn't think. Didn't plan. Just moved.
One moment, I was across the room, the next, I had Solis by the throat, slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the stone. His head hit with a sickening thud.
"You knew." The words came out in a snarl, barely human. "You've known all along."
He didn't fight back. Didn't try to defend himself. Just stood there with my hand around his throat, guilt written all over his face.
"Kieran—" he choked out.
"Twenty. Years." I tightened my grip, watching his face go red. "She's been here for a week, and you never said a fucking word. You watched her. Watched me with her. Knew what she was, who she was, and you said nothing."
"I was—" He gasped for air. "I was protecting her—"
"By lying?" I slammed him against the wall again. "By letting Tobias get close to her? By keeping her in the dark about her own fucking family?"
"Let me—explain—"
Part of me wanted to keep squeezing. Wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes for letting this happen. For twenty years of lies. For every moment Merrit had spent not knowing who she was, where she came from, that her family had been murdered.
But I needed answers more than I needed revenge.
I released him. He slumped against the wall, gasping, hand going to his throat.
"Talk," I ordered, my voice deadly. "And if I don't like what I hear, I'm ripping your fucking head off."
He coughed, breathing hard, taking a moment to compose himself.
"I was two hundred and thirty years old," he finally said, voice raw. "Tobias was the king's enforcer. Respected. Feared. I was his apprentice, trying to prove myself worthy of serving the Crown."
"Get to the part where you helped murder her family."
His face went gray. "He took me on an assignment. Said we were eliminating threats to the throne. Made it sound official, necessary. I'd helped with others before—didn't ask questions, just followed orders like a good little soldier."
"And?"