Page 179

Sola Ashford, Aster Marrow, whatever the fuck she calls herself now, doesn’t even flinch. She stands near the entrance with Cassian beside her, a son of one of the largest rival families on Sero, looking far too calm for someone who just walked armed men into a Virel event.

Cassian stands at her shoulder, dark-haired and unreadably calm, like he’s the only person in the room who still believes this conversation can end without bloodshed.

Lucian Marrow has withdrawn to the entrance with his men. Heads of families don’t negotiate in rooms they don’t control. He leaves the talking to his younger brother.

“I told you. I came to take my little brother home.”

“The fuck you are,” I growl. “You’ve disturbed a private event.”

They disturbed Rowan’s concert.

I turn to where Mom sits on the stage, the Noctis Rowan left behind still resting between her legs, bow in hand, her unseeing eyes staring into the void.

“Christian.” Cassian folds his hands behind his back. “If we came here for a fight, we wouldn’t still be standing here talking.”

“And you believe we should talk after you barged into my house, uninvited and armed to the teeth?” Dad puffs out a breath and turns toward Mom. When she gives a small nod, his shoulders sag before he lowers himself into a chair. “I can’t for the life of me remember the last time our families sat down in private and spoke. Not when your father was still alive. But if you insist...” His gaze settles on Sola. “Talk.”

I huff, throwing my hands into the air. “Wait, what? Fucking talk? Rowan is out there in the fucking forest, alone, and you want to talk?”

She shakes her head. “Trust me. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t have to be, but time is not on our side. And before you start snapping again, Cassian’s people are already out there searching for him.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Outside, the academy grounds are little more than darkness beyond the pavilion glass. Forest. Ravines. Kilometers of old Caervast property disappearing into the night.

Mom lifts her chin toward me. “Virel guards are already searching as well.”

“Then let me go.”

“No.”

“Mom—”

“Rowan Ashford is not walking out of our territory tonight, Cassian. Neither are you. Until I understand exactly what happened in this room, everyone stays where I can see them.”

Sola doesn’t react. Neither does Cassian.

I grit my teeth. Mom doesn’t bluff. If she says Rowan is protected, then nobody will get near him without going through a small army first. Still, it feels wrong standing here while he’s out there alone.

“Excellent.” Dad slowly turns my way, and the look he gives me is far too knowing. “Then we can return to the matter of whatever the hell just happened in my pavilion. If I’m not mistaken, you told me he was innocent.”

Damn it. That isn’t the look Dad gives an employee who screwed up an assignment. It doesn’t stop me from tipping up my chin to him in defiance. “Rowan was never supposed to have anything to do with any of this.”

Sola takes a glass from an outstretched tray and lowers herself into a chair across from Dad. Up close, the resemblance feels impossible to miss beneath the chandelier light. They have the same green eyes and pale freckles, the same warm golden hair. Rowan really was telling the truth.

“The evening is over.” Dad’s gaze sweeps the pavilion as he folds his arms, gaze landing on Sola. “And you, explain yourself.”

The announcement travels through the room without needing to be repeated. Guests are guided toward the exits by Virel security while staff move seamlessly behind them, preserving the illusion that the evening has simply ended early.

By the time the last of them disappear through the doors, only family, guards, and a handful of trusted associates remain.

Sola exhales before leaning back in her chair, fingers tightening around the glass in her hand. “Our family’s been drowning in bad luck for as long as I can remember. Strange men outside our apartment. People following us home from the market. Doors forced open in the middle of the night. Ma pretended everything was fine, but Rowan stopped sleeping properly before he was even twelve.”

Her gaze drops to the Noctis behind Mom before she continues. “He was always sick after the worst nights. Panic attacks. Heart episodes. Stress collapsed his system every time the pressure got too bad.” Her mouth pulls tight. “And no matter what I did, they kept watching him.”

“Watching him for what?” Lucan asks, the humor finally gone from his voice.

“I didn’t know why at first. I only knew people were circling our family, and every year Rowan looked more exhausted trying to survive it.” Her fingers tighten around the glass again. “So I started paying attention. Memorizing faces. Following people who thought nobody noticed them. Listening at doors I wasn’t supposed to be near. Every time somebody looked at Rowan, I wanted to know why.”