A bloody ballroom. That is all I see once I arrive back at the castle, after dragging the failed assassin to the docks. I tossed him into the swampy water and rinsed off his blood from my dagger and my hands. He should've suffered a worse fate and I curse myself for not serving him one.

The servants scrub the floor, the thick velvet turning into rosey water. I avoid their eyes, which follow me with unease. Mine flick up to the balcony, where the king remains perched with guards all around him. My instincts tug at me - to go see Cassian, but I must speak with the king first. These rebels have gone too far. And regardless of whether I like the king or not, Cassian will not be harmed because of it.

I tramp up the stairs, foregoing my usual stealthy steps. The king must sense this, because his head lifts from resting on his fist, and his iron eyes narrow towards me.

"Your highness," I say, mustering all the respect I can, and give a quick bow.

His mouth sets in a hard line before it opens. "What do you want?"

I bow my head slightly. "I would like to speak with you, your highness," I answer, clasping my hands together in front of me. "About the rebels."

He remains upright in his seat, unblinking. "Go on."

I make eye contact with him now, tracing over the sharp lines in his face. "The other day, when the prince and I discovered the blacksmith, there was something -"

"He killed himself, yes, I know."

I fight a sigh. "Yes, but there is more, your highness." My hands tighten like vices on each other. His son was almost killed, and he acts like this?

The king sits back on his throne. "What is it then?"

"I'm unsure if the prince told you, but there were markings on his skin. He'd branded the phrase, "Reigns will be cut free" onto his skin. Before he died. It's almost as if... he knew we were coming. And whatever information he had to hide, well, it was certainly more costly than his own desire to live."

The king's brow raises up and drops just as abruptly. "I don't see how this has to do with anything."

I swallow hard. "The attempted assassin today," I continue, in spite of his snappy tone. "Perhaps the message on the blacksmith's arm was a deviant indication of what happened today - saying that "Reigns will be cut free" perhaps meant that... well, you or Cassian were to be assassinated. And the man, before he died, he claimed that he was paid by someone to -"

The king grinds his teeth. "Do not dare to ever use his first name, as if you are... friends," he hisses, burning hot rods into my head with his eyes. He rises onto his feet, towering over me from a distance. "You are not friends. He is your prince, and you will address him as such. Your duty is solely to defend him, and if you fail, you will be sentenced with a fate worse than death. If you believe that the rebels are behind this, then do your job and slaughter every single one of them."

Anger burns inside my chest. I have to bite my tongue until I taste blood to stop myself from cursing out obscenities. He has no idea of how much I care for Cassian, no idea of our bond. But he is also right - what happened today cannot happen again. If I hadn't seen the man when I did, Cassian would be dead.

So the rebels must die.

I swallow the feeling of hot glass in my throat. "Yes, your highness," I agree. "I shall see to it that they're all dead."

The king nods, the whites of his eyes wide and the iris of them blue like a hot flame. "Good," he concurs. "Do not forget where you came from, boy. Who it was that showed you mercy." He returns to his throne, staring back out into the ball room as if I was never there.

I nod once, malice chapping my lips. I take my turn to the nearest hallway, to avoid the onslaught of stares from the servants. Of everyone. As I near the corner, a tail of black fabric sweeps past it. My senses spike. I unsheathe my dagger again and storm around the corner, only to see... nothing.

No one is there.

But I know what a saw - someone's cloak. Someone.

I stand there, watching the flames of the torches lick away the shadows in the otherwise empty hall. I never 'see things' - I just see. Someone was definitely here. I ponder searching the hall, but I have a feeling that whoever was here, is already gone out of my reach.

I should get back to Cassian, I think, and thus turn around on my heels. As I go to leave the hall, I stop. Something stops me - the sight of the king, standing next to the head of the guards, Centiel. Centiel stands there with his red cloak, arms folded behind his back and his face graver than usual. They stand awfully close together, as if whispering in each other's ears.

I scope out for the guards, but they're all marching down the stairs - as if they've been ordered away. Why would the king do such a thing after what's happened tonight?

I find myself plastered to the pillar before the hall, taking in a deep breath to dull the rest of my senses. I simply listen.

"What happened tonight cannot happen again," the king whispers harshly. "That was far too close."

Centiel vaguely nods. "I know, your highness. It will not happen again."

Is he taking further measures to protect Cassian?

The king stands up straighter, looking away from Centiel but still standing close beside him. "You better hope not," he threatens, his voice low and severe. "Next time, you will make sure the arrow doesn't miss him. Or else your neck will be next in line."

Everything around me fades into a deafening silence. I barely shift out of the way of the servants filing down the halls. They all move for me, their faces shuddering with unease as I pass. My heart feels like a woodpecker in my chest. I can't feel anything but a stabbing ache in my lungs - being punctured by this unbelievable plot.

Cassian's own father wants him dead, is what I think - over and over. But why? Why? I race up the stairs, my boots heavy with desperation. I don't know what to do. This truth sits on my throat like a boulder. No words can describe it.

I push open the doors of our chamber, where Cassian is drooped on one of the sofas near the fireplace. He stares into it blankly. I stand in the doors, my mouth opening but with no sound leaving.

I simply can't tell him. He won't believe me. What will I even say? Where is my proof?

"I can't believe he tried to kill me," Cassian murmurs, but I can hear him loud and clear. "One of my own people."

I draw in a hollow breath and shut the doors before I make my way over to him. My boots now tread carefully, quietly, almost as if I can pretend the truth isn't erupting in my ears like a bell of war.

Cassian looks up at me, his eyes swirling with affliction. "What did I do, Azael? What have I done?"

I kneel down beside him, my heart lodged in my mouth. "Nothing," I manage, my voice raspy and low. "It is not your fault, brother."

His face twists with doubt. "Then whose fault is it?"

Your father. The answer fills my mouth like blood - bitter and hard like iron. I stare at him, crumbling right before me. If I tell him of his father, even if he did believe me - what would happen? Everything in his world would break. He would break. I can't protect him if he destroys himself.

I can only protect him from everyone else. Including his father. Especially him.

"I don't know, Cassian. I don't know," I lie. I place my hand on his shoulder and embrace him, letting his head rest on my arm. He doesn't cry but I can feel the torment writhing beneath his skin. Mine burns with remorse. Watching him suffer in a way I can't eliminate with any weapon. A thing that cannot be stopped by violence.

I swear, on my honour, on my blood and bones, on the gods, I will protect him. No matter the cost.