Zander and I exchanged a look.
That was a dangerous question.
“He’s secretive,” I said carefully. “Clever. But he knows more than he lets on.”
Zander stepped forward, jaw tense. “If anyone could help, it would be him. Ashe and I gave the pool a little power, but my father isfullfae. If the pool still responds to ancient magic… he might be able to do more.”
Quinn’s eyes widened, fear and hope warring in his expression. “Then you need to bring him. I may have signed my death warrant by showing you this, but if the wards collapse… my family, everyone in this realm, they’ll be vulnerable.”
I placed a hand on his arm. “You did the right thing, Quinn. And no one will know. We’ll keep this between us. We’ll speak to Alahathrial. We’ll find a way.”
His shoulders dropped, his choice clearly bearing down on him.
“Can you bring him now?” he asked, glancing toward the spiral staircase. “We have maybe an hour before the next warder takes over for the rotation. We’re so understaffed, everyone’s pulling longer shifts.”
I looked at Zander, heart already pounding.
He met my gaze without hesitation, then gave a single, sharp nod. “We’ll get him.”
The castle corridors were eerily quiet this late, the usual patrols reduced, thinned by shifting tensions and the aftermath of Belana’s assassination. Zander walked ahead of me, shoulders straight, cloak brushing his heels with every purposeful step. The guards at the inner gate barely glanced at him, only offering a stiff nod of deference before stepping aside. No one questioned a prince wandering the castle at night.
And no one noticed me walking just behind him.
We descended into the lower levels, the chill deepening with every flight of stairs. The scent of stone, old parchment, and faint incense clung to the air as we reached the dungeon level, but this was no prison. Not for him.
Alahathrial’s rooms were set apart, carved into a separate wing lined with enchanted locks and more guards than the treasury vault. But none stopped us. Zander’s presence opened every door.
We stopped before the final one—smooth, whitewood etched with ancient fae script that shimmered faintly in the torchlight. Zander lifted his hand and knocked lightly, twice.
A few seconds passed before the door creaked open.
Alahathrial emerged from the inner chamber, his silver hair slightly tousled, his silken robes clinging to one shoulder as though he’d been roused from sleep. But even disheveled, the ancient fae radiated elegance—his golden eyes sharp, curious.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Zander said gently, “but we need your help.”
Alahathrial blinked once, then inclined his head with calm grace. “I am always happy to help you,son.”
He says that so easily, I thought. So casually, as if he hadn’t upended Zander’s life just days ago.
“Come to the pool with us,” I said before the moment could press in too deep.
At that, Alahathrial arched a brow. “I’m surprised Emlem told you about that.”
“He didn’t,” Zander replied. “A warder did. One who’s terrified for the pool’s integrity.”
Alahathrial’s smile faded. His lips thinned, and for the first time in months, I saw something close to unease flicker across his face.
“Then we must go,” he said. “Immediately. The pool should not be failing this soon.”
Alahathrial lifted a hand as we slipped into one of the side corridors near the eastern courtyard, moonlight bleeding through the lattice windows.
“Wait,” he murmured, his voice like velvet laced with thunder.
Magic shimmered through the air, coiling from his fingers in threads of silver-blue light. It draped over his form like water over glass, reshaping the contours of his face, dulling the gold of his eyes, shortening his height and softening his elegance into something utterly forgettable. When the spell settled, he looked like any other court courier, plain, pale, with ink-stained fingers and a hunched gait.
“Convincing?” he asked.
Zander gave a quiet nod. I just blinked. “That’s unsettling.”
