Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“Never underestimate anyone. People are capable of just about anything when they feel wronged and are unable to forgive. And for beings as long lived as us Damarian’s, that is a dangerous way to live.” ~ Lyric
The palace’s night was never fully dark.
The silk lanterns, honey-gold and faintly luminous, shed their gentle glow over every corridor and stairwell, and the webs that lined the ceilings shimmered like the threads of spun silver.
But Lyric felt it anyway—the darkness, thick and heavy, pressing at the edges of her senses as she moved through the heart of the Kingdom of Silk.
She walked with her head down and her mind in a storm, her boots silent on the ancient stone.
Something had gone badly wrong. She’d felt it for days: a prickling in her magic, a taste of bitterness on the air, the sense that strands were being pulled in the shadows.
Maddie and Roan were missing, after letting her know they’d be coming to see her, but Lyric had heard nothing else from them.
Athena had been snapping at her subjects and looking more stressed than Lyric had ever seen the queen.
She reached her private study and closed the door, leaning her back against the cool wood.
The room was dim—Lyric preferred low light when she was working—and the faint blue runes etched into the wall glowed with her shamanic touch.
She crossed to her desk and checked her phone for the hundredth time.
Nothing. Nico hadn’t replied to her initial text, and she knew why: he was in another state, likely tied up with council business, unreachable for hours yet.
Her fingers trembled as she typed another message: Urgent. I need to see you in person. Flights tonight if possible. This is council-level. Please reply.
She hesitated, then added: Athena’s safety may be at risk.
Then she pressed send, her heart pounding.
She drew a slow breath and closed her eyes, stretching out her shamanic senses.
Something was wrong. The magical web of the kingdom felt off-kilter, the lines that should have hummed with life now tense, brittle, quivering as if plucked by an unseen hand.
There was a sourness to the air, a taste almost metallic, that made the fine hairs on her arms stand up.
She’d felt it before, so long ago during the Damarian wars, when they’d lost so many lives—magic twisted, hope unraveling.
She shook herself and stood, crossing her study to open a carved wooden box on a high shelf. Inside was her emergency travel kit: a passport, several wads of cash, and a credit card. She slid the box into her bag, then checked her phone again. Still nothing.
She paced. Every instinct told her to get out.
To leave the kingdom and fly to Nico’s location, to put this evidence in the one pair of hands she trusted.
But she needed proof—real proof, not just her suspicions and the faint magical aftertaste of betrayal on the air.
She needed something concrete. Something that would stand up to council scrutiny.
Her thoughts circled back to the queen’s office. Athena had been secretive since Lyric had spoken with her; the queen’s office had been locked, the wards stronger than usual. If there was anything to find, it would be there.
Lyric wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, drew the hood low, and slipped out the door.
She moved like a shadow through the halls, her steps guided by memory and magic both helping steer eyes away from her, until she reached the queen’s private study.
The corridor was empty. She pressed her palm to the door, whispering in their language and pushing her magic into the wood, feeling the wards resist for a moment before they yielded to her shamanic authority. The door swung open with a faint sigh.
Inside, the room was still, the only light coming from a single lamp on Athena’s desk.
The air smelled of old perfume and silk, and Lyric’s heart hammered against her ribs as she crossed to the desk, her fingers trailing over the polished wood.
She searched quickly—drawers, shelves, beneath the blotter—her movements practiced and methodical.
And there, exactly where she’d half-suspected but dreaded to find it in a hidden compartment in the underside of the desk, was a book.
But not just any book. It was thick, bound in blue silk and gold thread, the queen’s crest stamped on the cover.
Lyric’s hands shook as she opened it, her eyes skimming over the first few pages. Her breath caught. It was a ledger.
Meetings with Azure. Dates. Payments. Detailed notes about “alternative mate-bonding experiments.” Names she recognized—Damarian males, Chaos shifters—listed for “transfer” as if they were cattle.
It was damning. It was horrifying. And it could not be real.
Athena wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
But the handwriting was perfect, the signatures genuine, the private codes only the queen would know. Lyric’s mind spun. It was too perfect—almost as if someone had wanted it to be found.
She pulled her phone and snapped a series of photos, page after page, her hands sweating, her breath shallow. She tried to call Nico, but it went straight to voicemail. She kept her voice as neutral as she could, though every word was a knife:
“Nico, it’s Lyric. I found something. Serious. I need to see you in person. Please call me as soon as you can. I’ll book a flight tonight if I can get clear.”
She pocketed her phone, replaced the ledger, and stood for a moment, staring at her own reflection in the glass of the cabinet across the room. Her face looked pale, drawn, and there was a twitch of fear in her eyes she couldn’t quite hide.
She had to leave. Now. Before whoever had planted this realized she’d found it.
That was the only excuse for it. Lyric would not accept that Athena or Aurelius would do this.
She’d known them too long. She couldn’t imagine anyone in their kingdom doing this.
That had to mean there was someone here that didn’t belong.
Lyric hurried back to her rooms, moving as quickly as she dared, her mind racing.
She threw a few clothes into her travel bag, hid her phone deep inside, and checked the flight schedules on her tablet.
There was a red-eye headed for Las Vegas leaving in two hours; she could make it if she left now.
She typed another message to Nico: I’m coming to you.
Will update from the airport. This is bigger than I thought.
She paused, then deleted it, then typed it again and pressed send.
Her hands were still shaking. She typed another text but decided to wait to send this one, Lyric was leary of sending such sensitive information via text message.
She slipped out the back corridors, moving through service hallways and unused parlors.
The mansion was quieter than she’d ever known it, but even so, she felt eyes on her, felt the weight of unseen webs.
She reached the eastern exit—a rarely used door that led to the old servants’ tunnel, where she could catch a ride to the airport without being seen.
A voice, smooth as silk and twice as cutting, echoed in the shadows behind her. “Heading out, Lyric? It’s awfully late for a stroll.”
Cassia.
Lyric schooled her face into a polite mask and turned, heart thundering. “Cassia. You startled me.”
Cassia stepped out of the darkness, every inch the elegant, and confident court advisor—her golden braid gleaming, her eyes unreadable in the half-light. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I was just coming to check on you. Neru mentioned seeing you earlier and said you looked quite stressed. Is everything all right? Is there anything I can help with?” Her eyes fell to the bag on Lyric’s shoulder.
Lyric forced a small laugh. “Just a shaman’s intuition. I had a bad feeling—couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get some air.”
Cassia tilted her head, the movement graceful, but predatory. “So out for a stroll with a bag packed for . . . ” Her words trailed off.
“Books,” Lyric blurted.
A deep “v” formed on Cassia’s brow. “Books?”
Lyric somehow managed not to grimace at her own idiocy.
Books? Really? That’s what she came up with?
“I figured I could do some reading. It always relaxes me.” And nothing says relaxing like carrying around a bloody big bag of books.
But she was going with it because apparently lying under pressure wasn’t her strong suit, and if she back peddled now, it would just look more suspicious.
“That could be helpful,” Cassia agreed, to Lyric’s complete surprise. “In regards to your ‘bad’ feeling, I’ve felt something off as well. I mentioned it to Athena but she wouldn’t discuss it with me. It’s odd, she’s always discussed everything with me. You’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”
Lyric shook her head, keeping her voice steady. “No, thank you. I’m just restless. I thought I’d walk down to the gardens and find a place to read there.”
Cassia’s gaze sharpened. “You know, I was just heading that way myself. Perhaps we could walk together. There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you—a magical matter, actually. I could use a second set of eyes.”