20. Chapter 20
T he word slithered down Ren’s spine. Her feet moved before her mind could catch up, following the pull.
As Ren passed the front of the library, Veylan was already lost again in his book, brow furrowed in the kind of concentration usually reserved for ancient battle records.
Given the cover, it was probably just another passionate tangle between the merman and the orc.
Veylan didn’t so much as twitch at her footsteps, and she decided not to interrupt his reading.
The palace halls were dim, the torches guttering low.
Ren’s footfalls echoed, the only sound in the silence that now ruled the court.
She turned a corner and came upon a stairwell of cold marble, its edges draped in webs thick with dust. The chill deepened the farther she descended, the hum in her chest growing stronger.
The voice had gone quiet now, as if waiting.
At the bottom loomed a wooden door. The door bore no crest, no inscription, no embellishment—only wood so plain it felt wrong amid the cascading marble and silver bones of the palace.
Ren laid a hand on the latch. The hum in her chest fluttered.
The door groaned open .
Darkness stirred beyond. Ren squinted as a figure lurched out of the gloom. The dark-robed figure startled at her presence, a bottle slipping from their grasp to shatter on the stone.
“Are you okay?” Ren called.
The figure pushed upright, limping toward her with a hand at their ankle. “Just a moment!” rasped a hoarse voice.
“Do you need help?”
There was another thud, followed by a muffled curse.
Then, the figure removed their hood, revealing a wild halo of silver-grey hair that sprang upward.
He was fae, and shorter than Ren by a head at least, his slight frame half-lost in the folds of his robe.
Despite the gray hair spilling around his face, his features were youthful, though sickly pale.
Ren’s gaze swept over him, taking in the pallor of his skin that seemed luminous in the low light. His eyes were icy blue.
“Don’t think we’ve met. I’m Zakhar. Court Mage, on most days.”
Ren figured a name for a name and said, “Ren.” Ren eyed the crate held in his arms. “Potions?”
Zakhar’s grin widened proudly. “Ah, yes! Been down here for three days mixing batches. Didn’t even attend the princess’s Name Day.
See, I prefer my company bottled.” He gestured to the spilled remains of one such bottle, his smile faltering just slightly as he muttered, “There goes twelve hours of work down the drain.”.
Ren’s gaze shifted past him, her eyes adjusting to the darkness behind the wooden door. The table behind Zakhar was covered with rows upon rows of vials and bottles filled with shimmering liquid.
The Verdant Elixir.
Her stomach lurched as the sheer scale of it hit her. She’d never seen so much in one place. There had to be enough here to save entire villages, families who were waiting, dying, praying for even a fraction of what sat on that table as if it were nothing more than wine ready to be uncorked.
“You made all of this?” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Indeed. Got several crates near ready for delivery. Word is the affliction is at the gates – no time to waste.”
She didn’t have to ask why it was sold for such a staggering price.
Deep down, she already knew. The demand was too great, the suffering too vast – this stockpile would never be enough.
Each bottle looked less like salvation and more like a cruel reminder that only a select few would live, while countless others would waste away waiting for a cure they could never afford.
In her mind, Ren saw Sela again—remembered the way Sela’s mother had withered from the Witherblight, flesh sinking against bone, memory slipping into nothing. She recalled the helplessness of watching it happen, of knowing there was nothing she could give, no vial to save them.
Not everyone could be saved, and the court knew it.
Zakhar noticed the look on Ren’s face and murmured, “The Witherblight’s outpacing us, far faster than production. Death waits for no cauldron, and I may work with magic, but even I can’t perform miracles.”
An uneasy silence followed as Ren stepped back. Zakhar shifted awkwardly, gesturing toward the stairs. “Right, then. Best get these ready for transport.” Zakhar’s jovial mask faltered. He sidestepped her, bumping his knee on the railing in haste.
Ren lingered, her hands curling at her sides.
Zakhar was smaller than her, distracted.
If she shoved past him, or could take him down, if she could just get her hands on one of those crates, she could bring the vials back to families who were waiting, praying to the Gods for divine intervention. It would be easy.
But if she stole from the stockpile and got caught, she’d be imprisoned again. Kaelin was already suspicious of Ren as it was. Ren would be locked away again and powerless to help anyone.
Unease twisted in Ren’s gut as she turned. She forced her legs to move, making her way back up the stairs, each step heavier than the last.
She nearly ran into Talen rounding the corner.
“Well, there you are,” he said, steadying her. “I looked for you in your room, but it was empty.” His gaze swept the corridor, then returned to her. “Aren’t you afraid to be roaming about? The plague’s practically at our doorstep.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve stared death in the face. Doesn’t frighten me as much. Not anymore, at least.” She shrugged, adding, “It takes more than this to scare me.”
Talen’s smile faded, just slightly. “Then you’re either brave or foolish. Or both. ”
“Depends who you ask.” Her gaze flicked over his polished breastplate, gleaming even in the dim light, gauntlets strapped tight, every buckle fastened. “You look ready for a war,” she observed. “What about you, prince? Aren't you out past your curfew?”
Talen exhaled, a quiet huff that might’ve been a laugh if he weren’t so obviously trying not to smile. “You could try calling me Talen,” he said as he turned toward the corridor. “Especially since we’re going to be working together. Titles get exhausting after the hundredth time.”
Ren followed. “Fine, Talen .” she drawled, making it sound almost like an insult. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.”
They reached a tall, oak door embossed with the crest of House Vaelaran. Talen pushed it open, and the room was spare but warm: shelves stacked with ledgers, maps pinned to the walls, and a great desk strewn with scrolls, sealed documents, and half-drained inkpots.
Talen crossed to the desk and pulled a single parchment free, smoothing it over the desk. “This is your contract.”
“Contract?”
“You didn’t think I’d let you hurl yourself at monsters without putting something in writing first, did you?”
Ren leaned an elbow on the desk, gaze flicking over the parchment. “Here I was thinking the fae were always trying to take advantage of humans.”
“Oh, don’t worry. We love taking advantage of humans — we just prefer to have it in writing.
” He gestured her closer. “Three creatures. That’s the agreement.
Defeat them, and the full payment is yours.
” He tapped the bottom line with a gloved finger.
“Your room and meals will be provided, as will any armor or repairs you need. I’ll have someone assigned to help you armor properly because you’ll need more than those patchwork leathers you favor. ”
Ren leaned in, scanning the elegant script. When she reached the line with her payment, her breath caught. “This can’t be right,” she murmured. “That’s – ”
The number staring back at her was more coin than she’d ever dreamed of earning in her life. More than enough to buy passage to the coast twice over, maybe even a small ship of her own if she bargained well .
“More than you’ve ever seen?” he finished. “You’ll earn a partial payment for each creature you fell. I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Ren.”
She picked up the quill resting beside the parchment, twirling it once between her fingers. “And if I don’t succeed?” she asked, eyes flicking up to meet his.
Before Talen could answer, another voice sliced through the air.
“If you fail, you owe the crown.”
Ren’s hand stilled midair.
Kaelin stalked across the threshold with her usual effortless grace. “Contracts go both ways,” she added. “If you break the terms, or flee, or fail to deliver, then you’ll pay for the losses you’ve caused. That’s how the court works. There are no exceptions.”
Ren set the quill down with deliberate care. “And who decides what qualifies as failure?”
Kaelin smiled. “We do.”
Talen shot his sister a look that hovered between warning and exasperation. “Kaelin.”
“What?” Kaelin lifted a shoulder, feigning innocence. “I’m simply ensuring your new… partner understands the stakes. It’s only fair, for both parties.”
Ren met her gaze evenly. “Fair,” she repeated, voice low. “Right.”
Kaelin reached up, idly twirling a strand of pale hair around one finger, her tone deceptively light. “After all, it’s not every day a human is promised that much gold. I imagine it would take you a lifetime to earn the same, wouldn’t it?”
Ren said nothing, jaw tightening.
“Then I’d suggest you take your training very seriously,” Kaelin murmured, releasing the strand of hair to let it fall back against her shoulder. “We don’t take kindly to wasted effort or squandered coin.”
Talen’s sigh cut through the tension. “Ignore her,” he told Ren, reaching for the parchment and turning it slightly toward Ren. “You’re not here to lose. You’re here to do the realm a great service.”
Ren hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing in. Then she took up the quill again. “Nothing like a good cause to make the possibility of dying feel worthwhile,” she muttered, then signed her name .
Kaelin’s eyes flicked once to Ren, then to the parchment. “I’d like a word with my brother. Privately.”
Ren’s gaze darted between them but she pushed away from the desk with a shrug. “Fine. I’ll be in the corridor” she muttered, heading for the door.
The latch clicked behind her.
Talen let out a long sigh and sank onto the edge of the desk. “Gods, she’s something,” he murmured. “I don’t know if I want to throttle her or recruit her permanently.”
Kaelin crossed her arms, leaning against a nearby column. “You always did have a weakness for the reckless ones. That girl could use a lesson in restraint and in knowing when to keep her mouth shut.”
Talen huffed a faint laugh, dragging a hand through his hair.
“You’re not wrong.” His voice grew quieter.
“It is so hard to sit through these endless meetings, arguing over ledgers and levies, knowing what’s crawling through lands outside of Pyraelia.
” He looked up at Kaelin, eyes hard with exhaustion.
“They talk about numbers while people are dying , Kaelin. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. ”
Her gaze softened a fraction, though her tone stayed even. “Then we’d better make this quick,” she said. “There’s one out tonight, isn’t there?”
Talen nodded grimly. “A big one.”
“So I’ll be direct. What the hell were you thinking at the treasury meeting yesterday?”
“What?”
Kaelin’s composure cracked, her voice rising. “Announcing you’d personally pay for the prison reform? Are you out of your mind?”
He pushed off the desk. “I did what was right.”
“Right?” She laughed once — bitter, incredulous. “You think these nobles care about what’s right?” She stepped closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You’re lucky I was there to steady the room before half of them decided you’d lost your senses. ”
“Let them whisper,” Talen snapped. “Someone had to say it. Someone has to do something.”
Kaelin shook her head, muttering under her breath, “You’re lucky I was there.”
He glared at her. “I know how to handle the court.”
“No,” she said softly, “you know how to fight battles. There’s a difference.” She turned away, pacing a few steps before facing him again. “These nobles don’t give a damn about morals. They care about money and prestige.”
“Wonderful. I’d almost forgotten how inspiring home can be.”
“That idealism of yours is what got you exiled in the first place. Don’t forget Father sent you away because you couldn’t think before you acted with the goat – ”
Talen cut Kaelin off, “I remember. Believe me, I won’t forget anytime soon.”
“Well,” she said at last, crossing her arms and tilting her head, “for what it’s worth, it’s good to have you back. The court’s been dreadfully dull without someone to make the old men squirm.”
Talen looked up at her, a corner of his mouth twitching. “That almost sounded like affection.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just relieved I’m no longer the only sibling stuck in this den of thieves.”
He huffed, a wry smile ghosting across his face. “Touching as ever. There’s nothing like scheming nobles to make a prince feel useful.”
The silence that followed was heavy, familiar. Kaelin studied him quietly. Then she asked softly, “Why did you bring her here? You could’ve hired anyone. Why her ?”
He hesitated, glancing toward the closed door as if he could still sense Ren’s presence beyond it.
“Because she’s survived what most wouldn’t,” he said finally.
“And because she doesn’t flinch. Not from me, not from you, not from this court.
” He looked back at Kaelin, his voice dropping.
“And gods help me, we need someone who still remembers what fear feels like and fights anyway.”
Kaelin was quiet for a long moment. Then, she smiled. “You always did have a talent for surrounding yourself with trouble.”
Talen smirked. “Takes one to know one. ”
Kaelin rolled her eyes. “Get going then. I’ll handle the rumors you’ve stirred.”
He gave a mock bow. “As always, sister, you’re the savior of the realm that we need but don’t deserve.”
She sauntered toward the door, but at Talen’s parting remark, she paused mid-step. With one hand resting on her hip, she glanced back over her shoulder and shot him a wink. “Don’t you ever forget it, dear brother.”