Chapter 24 The Truthfinder
“The curse of lovers across factions is the oldest sin of the island of Rionis,” Professor Vao intoned, his deep voice rolling through the vaulted lecture hall like a somber hymn. Sunlight poured in through the tall arched windows, gilding the dust motes drifting between rows of restless students.
“The first son and daughter of Solvir, god of the sun and Lunareth, goddess of the moon, met in the forest of Eden, what we now call the King’s Forest.” His ink-dark robes whispered behind him as he paced.
“They were warned never to mix light and darkness. Though their magics coexist to balance the island, they cannot—must not—merge within mortal flesh. Only the gods themselves can bear such opposition.”
I stiffened.
A history lecture about forbidden lovers and soulbounding curses weeks after I’d nearly thrown myself into the arms of a Moonveil in a hallway like an unhinged idiot.
Perfect timing, Professor Vao. Truly.
I forced my gaze forward, even as Lorik Draventh’s silver eyes flickered through my mind uninvited. Even as the phantom heat of that moment, my moment of weakness, tried to crawl back beneath my skin.
“But the first mortal male and female Moonveil and Sunheart did not listen,” Vao continued.
“Lust clouded their judgment. And lust is harmless until it becomes love. Love binds fire and shadow. And mortal bodies cannot withstand such power intertwined. Their souls merge, and their minds fracture. Their magic becomes unstable and a threat. A curse imposed by the gods when their single rule was broken: live together, but keep your magic pure.”
A hush swallowed the hall.
My heartbeat slowed.
Breath steadied.
Relief, thin and bitter, uncoiled in my chest.
Lust wasn’t the curse.
Love was.
“So, class, how do you know if someone has been cursed, and what do you do?” Professor Hog asked.
“Kill them before they become crazy and before they kill us first,” a female voice from the back line answered without hesitation. Laughter filled the room.
“Well, a typical Dragontail response. But you cannot kill them yourself; you’ll go to jail. Someone else, please, with a bit more logic and restraint?” Vao asked, with annoyance, about the brute-force responses of the Dragontail trainee without a doubt.
“Their eyes change, similarly when you consume auroric potions... just that the eyes change permanently,” Soehl responded from beside me with a low, steady voice.
“Finally, someone with logic. Miss Cheryn, explain what you do with those soulbound by the curse,” Vao asked excitedly.
Soehl hesitated for a moment, then responded in a soft, sad tone, “We report them to the Emberkeep guards.”
Of course, reporting to the Emberkeep guards who were controlled by the Emberkeep general and the Solenhart court. Those with the curse would not be given a second chance. It was a crime, and they would be executed.
“Correct. The crime of the curse is punished by death. Luckily, the curse affects fewer and fewer people every decade because there is more education in schools throughout the island about the topic.” Vao concluded.
As the class ended, a breath of relief slipped out of me. Whatever had happened between Lorik and me that night, whatever had torn through me like wildfire, it wasn’t love. It would never be love.
I didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on it anyway.
With the Dragontail Trials less than a month away, I not only had to push harder in my Dragontail training, but I still had every Emberkeep requirement to complete.
And now I was already late for my interrogation class, a class I despised, mostly because I wasn’t here to learn.
I was here to be used. A wall to push at. A mind to test. A target.
I entered the Emberkeep Atrium late and completely unenthused, Jan Radke drifting in beside me.
The skylight above washed the room in warm, honey-colored light.
Students from every year filled the space, truthfinders, mental benders, coercers, memory wielders, each sharpening the skills the Solenhart courts relied on daily.
Pairs had already formed, settling into their usual training matches.
I angled toward Jan Radke. My safe choice. My usual partner.
“Our usual pairing?” he asked.
“Yes, please, hurry before…”
“Princess Solenhart.”
Chen’s voice cut through the atrium like a knife.
My stomach dropped.
She approached with her hands clasped behind her back. “Today, stop practicing with trainee Radke. Your resistance is beyond the first-year level. You will train with the second-years.”
I already knew what she’d say next.
“Pair with Barret.”
A murmur rippled across the room.
Thalen stepped forward, his blond hair catching the sunlight, gold eyes bright, happy, and expectant.
Jan winced. “Good luck.”
I needed more than luck. I needed divine intervention.
Still, I walked forward, spine straight, emotions locked behind steel.
Thalen stopped in front of me, his voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. “You’ve been ignoring me.”
I didn’t bother hiding my annoyance. “What did you expect?”
I slipped off my sunburst protection heirloom, the one that kept truthfinders out of my mind and held it in my palm. Its warmth faded, the familiar mental shield evaporating with it.
“You kissed me in front of everyone,” I said plainly. “And then a paper came out claiming we’re back together and the kingdom is waiting for our wedding. My mother and the general must be thrilled. I’m sure the royalists popped open ancient Auroric potions for the occasion.”
His face twisted with guilt.
I wasn’t wrong.
Royalists were giddy.
My Dragontail calling had been brushed off as an anomaly.
No one cared about the Dragontail trials I still had to survive. Everything felt orchestrated.
“I’m sorry, Thea,” he murmured. “I was worried about you. I got carried away. You know I care about you. I want you to be happy.”
I inhaled slowly, letting it all slide off me for now.
“Come on. Let’s just practice your truthfinding abilities, Golden Boy.”
He nodded. Thalen softened at the nickname. It was his childhood nickname, the one my father had given him.
“Try to keep your walls as solid as you can,” he said gently.
“You know how this works; I’ll ask you a question, and you will be forced to say the truth even if you don’t want to.
You may want to keep your walls up, but magical traces are stronger than any walls you might be trained to create.
Let’s see how strong you are. We’ll start with something easy. Testing your baseline.”
He took my hands, letting his mental magic spill into me, a power he couldn’t wield without touch.
“What are your parents' names?” He asked.
“Beatrix Solenhart and Otto Solenhart,” I answered without effort.
Magic brushed lightly against my mind, testing, tapping, sliding, probing. Thalen’s brow furrowed.
“Next. Do you have any siblings?”
“No.”
His magic pressed again, barely skimming the surface of my thoughts.
Thalen exhaled, bewildered.
“Interesting.”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re strong, Thea.” His voice dropped to something like awe. “I can barely scratch you enough to tell if you’re telling the truth.”
I shrugged faintly. “Maybe try asking me something you don’t know the answer to. But I must be saying the truth, right? You are the second most powerful truthfinder in Rionis after your father.”
His throat bobbed.
“All right,” he murmured.
He stepped closer. Too close. The air between us thickened, humming with his magic. “Thea,” he whispered, “who healed you the night of your attack?”
My pulse lurched.
I swallowed, forcing my expression into something bored, unimpressed.
“That’s your question?” I stalled. Not even a flicker of force tugged at my mind, nothing compelling me to speak. Same as with Jan over the past few weeks, but Thalen was stronger. “You know that answer, Thalen. A healer from town. I don’t remember her face well… as you know, I was bleeding.”
The lie slipped out clean. Effortless.
If I repeated it enough times, I could almost believe it. But it was still a lie.
He hadn’t forced me to tell the truth but had he sensed it?
If I told him the real answer, it would unleash questions I wasn’t prepared to face. Questions I didn’t want anyone to ask about Lorik Draventh and me.
Thalen’s eyes narrowed. “Then why has no one come forward? Why hasn’t this healer claimed a reward from the crown? A public rescue of a princess? That brings prestige. Wealth. Status.”
“How would I know?” I countered softly. “Not everyone wants public recognition.”
It was gentle. Too gentle. Because I wanted him to keep asking.
Because if anyone could tear into my truths, it was Thalen but he wasn’t managing it. Not yet.
“Ask me something else,” I said quietly. “Something I can actually respond to.”
His eyes softened as if he were waiting for this moment. “Did you ever love me?”
“Yes,” I responded almost effortlessly. A truth that came without force.
Simple. Clean. Past tense.
Thalen stepped closer, gently taking my hand and pressing it to his chest. His heartbeat fluttered fast beneath my palm.
“Will you ever forgive me?” he whispered.
“I already forgave you.” Another truth.
His shoulders relaxed. Hope sparked behind his golden gaze.
Then he asked the one question he had been holding in the back of his throat for weeks. “Would you ever marry me if your mother wasn’t forcing you?”
I lifted my chin. “That depends. Did you kiss me in front of everyone because you loved me and were worried about me, or because my mother asked you to make a public scene for the papers? To stabilize the kingdom? What is the truth?”
Thalen’s answer came instantly. Too easily.
“I did it because the queen and the General asked me to. They wanted a genuine display of love for the press so the island would focus on you marrying an Emberkeep, so no one would think you were a Dragontail princess, and to ensure Emberkeep lineage. Things are balanced again, and you can rule. You will rule Rionis as it is meant to be.”
The ground beneath me went still.
I pulled my hand back from his chest as if burned, turning my gaze away before the hurt could show.
“Thea, how did…? I didn’t mean…” he started, reaching for me.
But fire snapped at my fingers, itching to ignite. My magic, which had stormed under my skin, felt betrayed. No, furious.
Deep down, I knew.
Of course, the General’s son would do exactly what benefited the crown. I hadn’t asked earlier because I was afraid of this answer.
And he’d said it so lightly. So carelessly.
I looked up at him, my voice steady as steel. “Then, I would never marry you willingly.”
Thalen froze, his breath catching. His eyes, usually warm and bright, darkened as realization spread across them like a shadow.
“I am sorry,” he begged. “I didn’t have an option. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
But by then, I had already turned away from him and pretended to go to the restroom. And for the first time, Thalen totally understood exactly how much he had already lost.