His answering chuckle slid through the connection just before the sound of the war room doors echoed faintly behind him. Then the bond went quiet again—muted, but not gone. Never gone.
When I was sure he wouldn’t check in again for a moment, I looked back at Nevara.
Draven’s grief pressed faintly against my ribs, unmistakable even from a distance. He could hide it from the court, fromhis soldiers, from his enemies—but not from me. Not anymore. Losing her would break him in ways the world would never recover from. And I wasn’t sure I could bear watching him fall apart like that.
“You’re the last family he has,” I whispered. My throat tightened around the truth. “He’s been holding himself together because he has to—but if you don’t wake up… I’m afraid he might finally shatter.”
Batty shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, her tiny body vibrating with a soft, sorrowful hum.
“I know you’re tired,” I continued softly. “And I know your visions take pieces of you every time, but we need you. Draven needs you. He’s lost everyone else. He’s carrying the entire realm on his shoulders, and he’ll do it until it kills him. And you chose me. You said it was me that could help him, but here I am, doing nothing good for anyone, and I just… I can’t, Nevara. I don’t know how to do this without you.”
My voice broke. Just a little. And I scooped Batty up to take what little comfort I could steal for myself.
“I don’t know if I’m strong enough to be what this Court needs, or what he needs,” I admitted into the endless hush. “I need your advice. Your voice. Your… presence. Not even just a prophecy. Just you. And I wish I could be selfless enough to tell you it was okay to stop fighting. That you could just sleep now and know that we could carry on without you, but that’s not who I am, who any of us are. So wake up, dammit."
The lanterns pulsed faintly, as though the room itself was listening.
But Nevara didn’t move.
Batty nestled her head against my neck, offering what little solace she could as the oppressive weight of the silence and the towering walls closed in again.
Chapter 29
Everly
Iwas still standing in the stagnant air when the door opened with a whisper-soft click, and Soren slipped inside with the self-satisfied ease of someone who had recently escaped captivity.
His raven-black hair was still damp at the ends, as though he’d run a hand through it while fleeing, and his clothes looked rumpled in a way that suggested haste. I was unreasonably relieved to see him and even his facade of nonchalance under the circumstances.
Whatever family I was creating here, I knew that he had wormed his way in as well, spy or not.
“I see you’ve returned,” I said with all the lightness I didn’t quite feel, lifting the note from the nightstand. “So much for the healer’s orders to rest.”
“I have escaped,” he corrected, shutting the door behind him with a practiced flick of his wrist. “Amias attempted to imprison me with hot food, clean clothing, and the unconscionable demand that I sleep. But, I have liberated myself. Go ahead, be impressed by my bravery.”
I let out a slow breath, unable to hide the smirk tempting the corners of my mouth. “Let me guess. You hid in a broom closet until he gave up?”
He placed a hand over his chest, scandalized. “Do not trivialize my tactical retreat. It involved strategy, timing, and a regrettable encounter with mops.”
A genuine laugh escaped me then. “Well, all good spies have a getaway plan.”
His amber gaze met mine as he dramatically inclined his head.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “They do.”
I had meant it as a joke, but his response was too careful to misinterpret. A question began to take shape in my mind, one stained with the blood of the fae spy I had sent to an early grave.
“Soren,” I said cautiously, “how many contacts do you have? Fae you rely on for… information.”
It was the least subtle question I had probably ever asked in my life.
He blinked once, slowly. “Define rely.”
“That’s not a comforting answer.”
“It wasn’t designed to be.” He moved toward Nevara’s bedside, his expression sobering as his attention settled on her silent form. “Spies survive by evaluating risk, not by trusting the motives of others.”
He offered a small grin. “Or, so I hear at least.”
