I can’t speak.
My Mother faced Zevran every single day, knowing exactly who had destroyed his family. Now I’m doing the same. How many secrets did she know and kept me blind to?
I compose myself just enough to reply.
“I understand,” I tell him, the words barely audible. “I don’t hold it against you, Zevran.”
His expression changes, soft and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before.
“Goodnight, Cyra.”
I slip into my room and close the door, leaning against it as my legs threaten to give out.
I’m the daughter of the man who caused his deepest trauma, and I’ve been lying since the moment we met.
If I tell him, he’ll send me away. If he finds out on his own, it will destroy whatever fragile thing exists between us. He’ll look at me and see only my father, and every moment of trust will rewrite itself as manipulation.
The trials start tomorrow. But the real test is whether I can keep this secret long enough to survive them.
Itry to sleep, but the revelation about my father burns through me.
The Sun King murdered Zevran’s parents.
My father killed his family.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Zevran’s face when he told me, the careful control barely masking decades of grief and rage. The walls of my chamber press in, suffocating.
I need air.
I throw off the covers and leave my quarters, feet carrying me toward the observation lounge down the corridor before I consciously decide to go there.
The space is entirely glass and starlight. Talis glows below, a mesh of cities. The air here is cooler than in the Mars wing, and the hum of the arena’s engines vibrates faintly through the floor.
I am alone for only a breath.
“Hello, Miss Cyra.”
Lady Isolde steps into the starlight, wrapped in soft amber fabric. She moves with the same quiet confidence I saw in public earlier today, her hair down with dark curls spilling over one shoulder.
“Hello, Your Grace.” I bow my head shyly.
She steps towards me. “Admiring the view?”
I let my gaze focus on the horizon of Talis. “This place feels … unreal.”
“Your first time off-world.” It’s not a question. She settles onto one of the crystal benches and gestures for me to join her. The movement iselegant, unhurried. “I remember mine. I spent the whole trip convinced I’d ruin a treaty by simply breathing wrong.”
Her openness is disarming. I sit, careful to leave space between us. The bench is cold through my thin sleep clothes. “I take it you didn’t?”
“No. I learned most people are too busy worrying about their own mistakes to notice yours.” She studies the curve of the windows rather than me, her profile sharp against the glow of the cities below. “Although your circumstances are rather more unusual than mine ever were.”
“In what way?” I ask, a slight guardedness in my voice.
“You arrived with no political training and no prior relationships with any House leaders.” Her voice stays light, conversational. “Yet Mars trusts you with quite a lot.”
“My position is what Lord Zevran asked of me.”
“Mm. And he asked a great deal, didn’t he?” She tilts her head slightly, the way someone might when examining a painting from a new angle. “Venus pays attention to such shifts. When a leader such as Zevran starts to change his ways, we want to understand why.”
