“We wanted to. Gods know we wanted to. But if word had spread that the heir of Orchid was alive and vulnerable in a foreign kingdom, you would have been hunted and unable to follow your fate. The less who knew, the longer you lived. And when word arrived that you had undergone the Claiming in Dravaryn, hand in hand with Jakobav…” His mouth tightened. “We knew the seal on your mother would fail. We knew she had days left. We were in shock for days ourselves. And then we prepared for what came next.”
“So everyone else knew my life was fate and tragedy waiting to happen. Everyone but me.”
“You should have been told,” he admitted. “I carry that failure.”
Her voice was flat. “Don’t expect thanks. Don’t expect forgiveness either.”
“I expect you to use it,” he said. “What you carry now is truth. And truth is power.”
Ella shoved her hair back from her face, rough and quick. “So let me line this up. I am part-Fae. My mother was also part-Fae. She needed to Threadwalk to survive but her power was bound by magic supplied by Bryn. My Claiming woke the bloodline. Dravaryn’s Rite kills mortals for glory. Their king needs Fae blood to keep breathing. Jakobav’s bloodline is as tangled in this as mine, and I’ve been the last godsdamned person to know, in every way that matters.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck every secret that got us here.”
“You’re right to feel that way. And I regret not telling you sooner, Ellandria,” her father replied. He paused, gathering himself before he continued. “With the realms open, ignorance is no longer protection—it's a weapon someone could turn against us. Marisol has been invaluable in gathering information about Fae bloodlines and Blood-Scenting. We've been piecing together truths that others would rather keep buried.”
“From now on, you tell me everything,” she said quietly, but her voice held. “Hide another truth from me, and I’ll appoint someone else to guide this court. I won’t rule beside anyone who would allow me to lead blindly.”
She was done holding back. It hit her, all of it at once—the devastation, the lies, the not knowing if she’d been betrayed or if Jakobav was as much in the dark as she was.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?Why today?”Anger poured through every word she screamed at him.
“One of our court seers had a vision that something is stirring within the realms, though she was unable to see the source. Similar reports have come from Thirelle, which means the other kingdoms are aware of it too. We must prepare ourselves and our people. I suspect that’s the reason Jakobav returned to his own in such a hurry.”
He hesitated for a moment, scanning Ella’s face before continuing on. “And I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t give you details when you asked what had called him away. I’m sorry, Ellandria.” Eryndor looked utterly gutted, as if he was the one who had possibly been betrayed.
Before Ella could press him further, the doors blasted open. Guards stumbled in, pale and sweating, their boots slipping on polished stone.
“Your Majesty,” one gasped, dropping to his knees. “The far coast. The entire continent?—”
“Speak,” Ella snapped.
“It is inhabited,” the guard blurted. “All at once. Thousands, maybe more. Lights where there were none, towers where there was mist. The Fae have returned.”
The hall, even empty, seemed to pull back from the words.
Another guard stepped forward with a scroll sealed in obsidian wax, the sigil pressed so deep the stamp had cracked at the edges. No one in this lifetime had seen that seal with their own eyes, and yet every royal knew it from their earliest teachings. Her father snatched it from his hand.
He broke the seal and read in a voice that did not waver:
“To the rulers of the four kingdoms of this mortal realm: You are hereby summoned to a council. We will speak of our return and the balance of the realms. Attend at once. The stability of your world demands it.”
Not a request. A command.
“When did this arrive?” Eryndor asked, holding the summons away from his body as if it were venom.
“Mere minutes ago,” the guard said.
He lowered his voice, as if afraid the word itself might bloom in his mouth. “It arrived by…Rose Magic.”
A murmur rippled through the guards before the chamber stilled. Even her father’s breath seemed to catch, sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip.
The man swallowed and spoke lower, as if afraid a more sinister force of Fae magic might punish him for speaking on it. “It opened in the council room,” he said. “From the mosaics. A crack first…then a stem forcing through, green and wet as if it carried its own rain. It climbed fast. Thorns split from it. And then—” He swallowed. “It flowered. A single rose, large as a fist, right on the table.”
The guard’s hands shook. “The petals shimmered with every color. When we reached for the bloom, it loosened its hold and left the scroll in its place. The moment the parchment lifted free, the stem blackened, and the rose turned to smoke.”
A silence followed that was louder than the scream the messenger seemed to be holding back.
