Hoofbeats shattered the troubling thought as two riders crested the rise to the south and came hard, scattering dust, urgency in every line of their bodies. Jakobav lifted a hand,bringing them to a halt. The nearer rider kicked free of his stirrup and slid to the ground, dropping to one knee in the grass.
“Kerris,” Jakobav said, recognition breaking through the steel in his voice. “Breathe.”
The boy, young enough that he still looked startled by his own speed, dragged in air and squared his shoulders. “My Prince, I bring two reports.”
Jakobav’s entire frame shifted at those words, stilling, every trace of his easy arrogance stripped away. A prickle of dread in her chest warned this news would not be kind.
“Go on, Kerris,” Jakobav said, calm and absolute.
“There is unrest in the city. Not a revolt, they are not that foolish, but rumor spreads fast. There have been small breaches, many of them actually, since the Claiming. The Guard was divided to answer them. People are questioning how the Orchid Princess has flame in our capital, and…why she’s here.” He faltered, gaze moving to Ella before darting away, his throat working. His breath came uneven, and he stammered through the words as if speaking them aloud to the future king unsettled him more than the message itself.
Jakobav turned toward Maeren, a subtle tilt of his chin. Her posture straightened, as though she were preparing to act. Jakobav turned back to Kerris, his tone steady. “You said there were two reports. What is the second?”
Kerris’s voice dropped to a whisper, his shoulders folding. “My second report is… she is not the princess anymore.” He bowed his head as he extended a parchment toward Ella, the seal dark against his trembling hand. “I am deeply sorry, Princess Ellandria.”
And suddenly her world collapsed.
Ella didn’t reach for the letter; she didn’t need to. The way Kerris spoke was proof enough, and the subtle shift in Jakobav’sdemeanor was even more damning. She’d known this day would come, had been waiting for it since learning of the prophecy.
“My mother,” she said, her voice trembling, betrayed by her sorrow. “Say it.”
Kerris cleared his throat as if to steady himself, and when he finally raised his eyes to hers it was not with pity, but with respect and sadness. “Her Majesty, Queen Serenya of Orchid, is dead,” he whispered. “The message came through the southern post at dawn.”
For a moment, only the wind answered, and then her fingers went slack, the reins dropping from her hands and landing against the saddle with a dull slap.
Her mare flinched at the sudden looseness, sidestepping in a quick, uncertain motion. The disturbance reached Jakobav’s stallion. His hand clenched around the reins, leather groaning as the horse jerked in protest. Jakobav reached over to grab her reins.
Probably afraid she might bolt.
But she couldn’t move. The guilt of leaving Orchid, of not saying goodbye, of not returning immediately upon discovering her mother’s illness, all sunk into her bones, paralyzing her.
She was left hollow.
The world around her blurred, sounds drifting in and out as though carried from a distance she couldn’t cross. She folded forward without meaning to, her palm finding the saddle horn only to realize her hand was shaking. A faint pressure built behind her eyes, not yet tears, just the sting of a truth finally realized.
Her mother.
The word formed like a bruise inside her, dark and spreading. She tried to breathe, but her chest refused her.
Jakobav sucked in a deep breath, slowly, and a single word escaped him, harsh and low. “Fuck.”
His curse reached her as if through water, and she lifted her head only enough to glimpse his face and see his shoulders lock. The sight nearly undid her, because for the first time since meeting him, she saw grief on his face too, grief for her.
Ella forced her spine straight, awareness threading back into her. She wasn't alone out here, nor was she hidden in the safety of solitude—she was surrounded by Jakobav’s circle, watching her, waiting. She gathered what pieces of herself she could and held them tightly.
Maeren stepped forward, stance already set like a drawn blade. “We return to the castle. We hold the lines. We silence rumors before they can grow teeth.”
“I will escort her to Orchid,” Thane said at once, his voice unflinching. “She should not ride alone into grief.”
Bryn’s gaze moved between Jakobav and Ella, his humor stripped away. “And the Veil,” he said. “What is your answer to a roof that keeps lowering and a floor that keeps sliding?”
Jakobav turned toward Maeren, his tone firm. “Take the city, address the court, and set the story before anyone dares rewrite it. Assign commands and leave no room for busy tongues. Silence the Vexari until I return.”
Ella’s head turned at that, catching the startled look from Kerris, and the sharp intake of breath from the other messenger, whose name she didn’t know.
He didn’t say High Vexari.
He’d always spoken of her with a kind of clipped respect, but this was different; the word he used now was stripped down, dangerous, and everyone had heard it. She wondered how close that command had come to treason against his own beliefs.
