42. Carefully Crafted Lie
Chapter forty-two
Carefully Crafted Lie
The days stretch on, each one dragging slower than the last. The rebellion soldiers grow restless, their patience wearing thin under the weight of the unknown.
We have prepared as much as we can: supplies are stocked, weapons sharpened, and defenses reinforced.
It feels like there is nothing left to do but wait.
And waiting is the worst part.
My mind twists through every possible outcome, every scenario where we aren’t ready.
Worse, I can’t shake the nagging thought that has been gnawing at me for weeks: What if there really is a traitor inside the stronghold?
If the king has someone feeding him information, then all of our preparation, all of our precautions, mean nothing.
He would already know. He would already be a step ahead.
It feels like he is always one step ahead.
The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
I can’t sit by and do nothing. If we have a spy among us, finding them can be the one thing that truly tips the scales in our favor. I have to figure out where to start, and I need Zander and Ash’s help.
I find them on the training grounds, surrounded by a hundred rebellion soldiers wielding daggers, their bodies shifting through defensive and offensive stances as they listen intently.
Zander moves through the ranks, demonstrating how to avoid magic attacks, the same way he managed to break through mine and Ash’s during sparring. It still blows my mind sometimes how effortlessly he countered us, how quick he was on his feet.
The king doesn’t just capture magic wielders—he collects them.
The best of the best. Those who aren’t subjected to his experiments, those who don’t have their power torn from them, are recruited into his army and forced to serve him or suffer the consequences.
Either option sounds like torture to me.
Ash notices me first, breaking away from the group and sauntering over with that ever-present smirk. “Afternoon, sunshine,” he muses, falling into step beside me. “What brings you out here? Looking to show these idiots how not to get their asses kicked?”
I roll my eyes and gesture for him to follow me, leading him far enough away that no unwanted ears can overhear. Once I am sure we are out of reach, I lower my voice.
“I’ve been thinking,” I start, my fingers unconsciously playing with the pendant around my neck.
“If there really is a traitor among us, then wouldn’t all of this be a waste?
” Ash’s expression darkens slightly, the amusement flickering from his eyes.
“If someone is feeding the king information,” I continue, “then wouldn’t he already know? Wouldn’t he already be a step ahead?”
Ash lets out a low hum, considering it. “I mean, I guess it’s possible. But we’ve been over this. We’ve exhausted that avenue, and we’ve come up with nothing.”
“Then maybe we need to start over.” I cross my arms. “Who would have the most access to information? Who would be in the best position to slip messages out without raising suspicion?”
Ash exhales, glancing back toward the soldiers. We both fall into thoughtful silence before he finally speaks. “The obvious choice would be one of the messenger carriers,” he admits.
I frown. “Wouldn’t we know if letters had been intercepted? If seals had been broken?”
“Not if they were good at what they do,” Ash counters. “It’s possible someone’s been slipping messages through in a way we haven’t caught onto yet. But even if that’s the case, there are a dozen messengers. It would take time to root one out.”
Before I can respond, Zander’s voice cuts through our conversation. “That was the first place we looked,” he says, stepping up beside us. “All the messengers have been vetted. They were cleared.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. Back to square one. There has to be something we are missing. Some angle we haven’t thought of yet. The king’s ability to always be ahead of us isn’t just luck—it is calculated.
Ash crosses his arms, frowning. “Alright, so the messengers are clear—fine. But someone has to be slipping information out. There has to be another way.”
I turn the thought over in my mind, trying to think of something, anything, that makes sense. “What if it’s not messages?”
Zander tilts his head. “Explain.”
I take a slow breath, forcing myself to piece it together as I speak. “We’ve been assuming that information is being sent: letters, secret notes, maybe even spoken messages passed off to someone outside the stronghold. But what if the king doesn’t need messages?”
Ash raises a brow. “You think he's just guessing our every move?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I think he already has eyes inside.”
Zander’s expression hardens.
“Think about it,” I continue. “We’ve been looking for someone who’s smuggling information out.
But what if someone inside the stronghold isn’t just passing messages, they're directly feeding the king information through other means? Magic, maybe. Or meeting with someone on the outside without us noticing.”
Ash runs a hand through his hair, his smirk gone. “That’s a whole different kind of problem.”
“It would explain why we haven’t found anything,” I say. “We’ve been looking in the wrong direction.”
Zander nods, his jaw tight. “If that’s the case, then our best bet is to start tracking movements. Not just who leaves the stronghold, but when and why.”
“Perhaps a craftsman?” I suggest, voice uncertain. “They're in and out all the time, and no one questions them. They're allowed in private chambers, fixing things . . . they would go unnoticed.”
I nod slowly. “We need to pay attention to anyone who disappears for long stretches of time, especially if they start avoiding questions. And . . .” I hesitate, the weight of what I am about to suggest heavy in the air. “We have to consider the possibility that it's someone we trust.”
Ash lets out a slow exhale. “That’s the part I hate.”
“Me too,” I admit. “But if the king really does have someone watching from the inside, we don’t have a choice.”
Zander straightens. “Alright. We start now. We keep track of movement, who’s coming, who’s going, and who’s avoiding questions. If someone’s working against us, we’ll find them.”
Ash gives a small, humorless chuckle. “So, we’re ghost hunting? Sounds fun.”
I glance toward the stronghold, toward the place that has become like a second family to me. A strange unease settles in my gut.
We run into dead end after dead end. I throw myself into the search, needing the distraction as much as I need answers.
Anything to keep my mind from wandering back to Oberon’s letter, to the words I have read over and over again until they burn into my memory.
If there’s any part of me left, it’s with you.
I can’t afford to dwell on him.
This is bigger than me, bigger than whatever is unraveling between us. We have no way of knowing how much they have already given away, how much danger we are truly in.
Zander has tasked a few trusted scouts with monitoring the gates and the messengers. Ash, in his usual way, tries to play things casually, keeping an ear to the ground, joking with the rebels, prying for anything that feels off.
I work quietly, observing, listening, searching for the smallest inconsistency in anyone’s routine.
But nothing stands out. No suspicious movements.
No one slipping away in the dead of night.
No intercepted letters, no whispered conversations that give anything away.
If there is a spy among us, they are careful, too careful.
After our search yields no results, Ash grows frustrated.
“This is pointless,” he mutters as we sit in the meeting room late one night, the dim candlelight casting long shadows across the map sprawled across the table.
“Either we’re wrong, or they’re a hell of a lot better at covering their tracks than we thought. ”
Zander doesn’t look up from where he is meticulously going over a list of names. “Or they know we’re looking for them.”
That thought unsettles me. If they know we were hunting them, they will only be more careful.
“We should set a trap,” I say suddenly, the idea forming as I speak.
Zander and Ash both look up.
Ash raises a brow. “Oh? You planning to make yourself bait?”
I shoot him a look. “Not exactly. But we could plant false information, see if it gets back to the wrong people.”
Zander nods slowly, considering. “It’s risky. But it might be the only way to draw them out.”
A carefully crafted lie, a fabricated supply line, a meeting place in neutral territory.
We spend hours honing the details, making sure it is as believable as possible without being too obvious.
The location will be an abandoned ruin, one that could easily be overlooked.
It is far enough from the stronghold to be a plausible meeting point, but not so far that it would raise questions.
We invent a supply route that no one can track, one that moves through non-essential parts of the kingdom, dodging any significant checkpoints.
“We need to make sure the right people hear this,” I say, staring at the map spread out in front of us. “Engineers, blacksmiths, anyone who would be in and out of the stronghold regularly. They’re always moving supplies, fixing equipment, doing work that nobody questions.”
Zander rubs his jaw, thinking. “The craftsmen have access to the inner workings of the stronghold. They’re in the meeting rooms, the private chambers, and no one questions their presence.”
I nod, meeting his eyes. “Exactly. We’ll make sure it’s them we speak to. Let a few words slip in the right circles. We don’t want to plant too much at once. Just enough to make it believable.”
Ash leans forward, his sharp gaze never leaving us. “I’ll handle the blacksmiths and lower-ranked soldiers. They’re always around the barracks. I’ll drop the idea of the supply line while I’m around. They’ll hear it, they’ll believe it, and then they'll pass it on.”
Zander nods. “I’ll do the same with the engineers and officers. When I’m around, I’ll mention the ‘new shipment’ we’re expecting.”
I pace back and forth, the weight of the plan settling in. “We need to make sure it’s just enough that it feels real, but not too much that it becomes obvious. The lie has to be simple; details are what give it away.”
Ash smirks, already envisioning the game. “A carefully timed slip of information in just the right places. Then we wait.”
Zander gives a sharp nod. "If someone inside the stronghold is working against us, this will make them move. It’ll draw them out.”
I pause, feeling the weight of what we are doing. “We need to consider everyone. No one is above suspicion.”
Zander’s eyes darken as he straightens, the plan now set in motion. “Alright. We start now. Let’s see who bites.”