Chapter 3
THREE
AUREN
Ifind her in the infirmary garden.
Aisling must have cleared her to leave the medical wing, though probably with strict instructions about rest and recovery that Tamsin is currently ignoring. She sits on a stone bench beneath an ancient oak, her face tilted toward the weak afternoon sun, borrowed clothes hanging loose on her frame.
She looks smaller than she did at the gate. Fragile in a way that has nothing to do with physical weakness and everything to do with the grief etched into every line of her body.
I watch her for longer than I should.
She doesn’t notice my approach immediately. Lost in thought, her amber gaze distant, her hands clasped in her lap with a stillness that suggests meditation or prayer. The copper highlights in her hair catch the sunlight, glowing faintly against the dark waves.
She’s beautiful.
The thought surfaces without permission. I shove it down immediately, burying it beneath layers of ice and control.
Her head turns as I step into the garden. Those amber eyes find mine, and something shifts in her expression—wariness, yes, but also something else. Recognition. Understanding.
“I assume the council reached a decision.” Her voice is steadier than it was last night. Stronger. She’s recovering faster than she should be.
“You stay.” I stop several feet from her bench, maintaining distance. “Under Brotherhood protection. In exchange for your cooperation against the Shadow Clan.”
“And the conditions?”
“You don’t leave my sight without permission.
You don’t practice magic without supervision.
You don’t access sensitive areas without an escort.
” I let each word land individually, watching for her reaction.
“You’re a guest here. But you’re also a risk.
Until we determine otherwise, you’ll be treated as both. ”
I expect argument. Offense. The wounded pride of a princess being told she’s essentially a prisoner.
Instead, she nods.
“That’s fair.”
The easy acceptance catches me off guard. “You’re not going to fight me on this?”
“Would it change anything?” She meets my stare without flinching, and I’m struck again by the directness of her gaze.
No guile. No calculation. Just clear amber holding steady against cold gold.
“I came here asking for help. I’m in no position to negotiate terms. If these are the conditions for your protection, I accept them. ”
“Just like that.”
“My pride can wait.” Something flickers in her expression—grief, maybe.
Or exhaustion. “My kingdom is gone. My family is dead. The sister who should have been my ally is hunting me to steal my blood. I have nothing left except the power to stop her, and I can’t do that alone.
” She pauses. “So yes. Just like that. Whatever it takes.”
I should be satisfied with her compliance. Should see it as evidence that my suspicions are unfounded, that she genuinely needs our help.
Instead, it makes me uneasy.
Because Morrigan was compliant too. Charming and agreeable and so very helpful—right up until she led my sister to slaughter.
“The council also decided that I’ll be responsible for your protection.” The words come out flat, clinical. “I’ll be your primary point of contact. Any concerns, any issues, any requests—they go through me.”
Something flickers in her gaze. Surprise, maybe.
“They assigned me to you specifically.” Not a question.
“Yes.”
“Because you hate me.”
The bluntness startles a response from me before I can control it. “Because I won’t be swayed by sentiment.”
“Same thing.” She rises from the bench, and I notice she’s taller than I remembered. Nearly my height. “You think I’m a trap. A weapon Morrigan sent to infiltrate your defenses from within. Assigning me to you ensures that I’m watched by someone who won’t let their guard down.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” She takes a step toward me, and I hold my ground despite the instinct to retreat.
“It’s intelligent. Strategic. Exactly what I’d expect from the Brotherhood’s master tactician.
” Her head tilts slightly. “I’m told you’re the best there is.
That you see threats before they materialize, predict enemy movements before they happen.
That your mind works in patterns and possibilities that most people can’t even imagine. ”
“Flattery won’t help your position.”
“It’s not flattery. It’s observation.” Another step.
Close enough now that I can see the darker flecks in her amber eyes, the faint shadows beneath them that speak to sleepless nights.
“You caught me when I fell. Carried me to the infirmary yourself. Stayed with me while I slept to make sure I didn’t burn the place down.
” Her voice softens. “If you truly believed I was a trap, you would have let me die at the gate.”
“Maybe I wanted to ensure you survived long enough to interrogate.”
“Maybe.” She doesn’t look convinced. “Or maybe some part of you recognizes that I’m not my sister.”
The words hit somewhere I don’t want to examine.
“We should establish ground rules.” I step back, putting distance between us. “Your training sessions will begin tomorrow. Your magic is unstable—you nearly burned down the infirmary last night. Before you can be useful against the Shadow Clan, you need to learn control.”
“I know how to control my fire.”
“You knew how to control it before you spent three days running on empty reserves.” I let my tone sharpen.
“Right now, you’re a danger to yourself and everyone around you.
Your defensive instincts triggered in your sleep—your magic flared before you were even conscious.
That kind of instability is exactly what Morrigan will exploit if she gets close enough. ”
For a moment, I think she’s going to argue. Her jaw tightens, and fire flickers in her gaze—not the white flame of her power, but the spark of challenged pride.
Then she breathes out slowly and nods.
“You’re right.” The admission seems to cost her. “Last night was... I haven’t lost control like that since I was a child. The exhaustion, the trauma—” She breaks off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re right. I need to retrain my instincts before they get someone killed.”
“Good.” The word comes out harsher than I intended. “We start at dawn. Be ready.”
I turn to leave.
“Auren.”
Her voice stops me. I don’t turn around.
“Thank you.” The words are quiet but steady. “For catching me. For not letting me die on your doorstep. I know it wasn’t easy—looking at me and seeing Morrigan’s blood. But you did it anyway.” A pause. “That means something.”
“It means I follow orders.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “Drayke wanted you alive. I ensured you stayed that way.”
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”
I walk away before she can say anything else. Before she can see how badly those words landed. Before she can notice the cracks forming in the ice I’ve spent decades perfecting.
She’s a threat. A risk. Morrigan’s blood.
I repeat it like a mantra as I navigate the fortress corridors toward my private quarters. Let the familiar rhythm ground me. Let the ice reform around the places where she’s already started to slip through.
Because that’s what she’s doing. Slipping through. With her direct gaze and her quiet acceptance and her grief that mirrors my own.
Blood isn’t destiny.
I want to believe it’s a lie. Want to believe that Valdorian witches are exactly what I’ve spent decades telling myself they are—deceitful, dangerous, unworthy of trust.
But she looked me in the eye and apologized for crimes she didn’t commit. Acknowledged my grief without making excuses. Accepted conditions that would humiliate most royalty without complaint.
Either she’s the most skilled manipulator I’ve ever encountered, or she’s exactly what she appears to be: a woman who lost everything to the same monster that destroyed my family.
I don’t know which possibility frightens me more.
My quarters are exactly as I left them—precise, organized, every item in its designated place. The familiar order should comfort me. Instead, it feels hollow. A monument to control that suddenly seems less impressive than a woman who faced her enemy’s gate with nothing but courage and desperation.
I move to the window. Stare out at the mountains. Let the cold seep through the glass and into my skin.
Tomorrow, I start training Morrigan’s sister. I’ll spend hours in close-quarters with a woman whose fire makes my frost feel warm by comparison. I’ll begin the process of determining whether Tamsin of Valdoria is our greatest weapon or our greatest threat.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that sounds disturbingly like Drayke whispers that perhaps she might be both.
I silence it with ice.
It doesn’t stay silent for long.