***

Two weeks before the Royal Hunt, Sylvos returned from his battle. Though calling it such felt like an insult to warfare itself. Rumor from the ladies of Clover Castle painted it as nothing short of a slaughter.

Whatever resistance the rebellious cities attempted was stamped out with ruthless efficiency beneath the weight of Sylvos' forces. Of all the cities, Oldvale had borne the brunt of his wrath. Sylvos, it seemed, had restrained himself from using Briarvex through much of the campaign, reserving the cursed sword's dark magic for Oldvale alone.

No one spoke of the details, but I'd seen the ruin that sword could bring.

"Talia, silence yourself before I stitch that mouth of yours shut," Virella hissed beside me.

Poor Talia stifled a sob, her red-rimmed eyes cast downward. Since hearing of Oldvale's fate, she had not stopped weeping even once. Her usually lively brown eyes streaked with sorrow, her mousy hair limp against her shoulders.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." she whispered, choking back fresh tears. "My family..."

"For the love of—" Virella sighed, her voice filled with impatience. "Shut it, Talia. I'm serious."

"Try to hold it for later," I urged the smaller woman.

All hundred concubines and the full assembly of Dornhold Castle's servants lined the courtyard, waiting for the emperor's return. As Sylvos ascended the fortress steps, his army falling into perfect rank behind him, a hush fell over the gathered crowd. When he crossed the threshold of the towering thornwood gates, the courtyard sank into a collective bow.

I dared a glance at him. Dark, blood-stained armor clung to his tall frame, and a tattered black cape dragged behind. My gaze lingered on Briarvex strapped to his back. The thorn sword's intricately engraved blade was stained with dried blood as though Sylvos had been in too great a hurry to have it cleaned.

His gaze drifted over the concubines, lingering on those of us dressed in green. When his black eyes settled on me, a slow, wicked smile twisted his lips.

Heat rushed to my face as I dropped my eyes to the cold stone beneath my feet, willing myself to disappear. I had grown so accustomed to the comforts of his absence that the sight of him instantly set me on edge.

The courtyard was swallowed in silence, broken only by the echo of Sylvos' boots against the stone as he strode toward me.

Lady Virella and Talia tensed at my sides. Talia held her breath, trying her best to stop from weeping too loudly.

"Rise, Princess," Sylvos greeted teasingly.

With reluctance, I straightened, careful to keep my face as neutral as stone.

His silver hair was a tangled mess beneath his jagged crown, as though he'd ridden through hell itself to arrive here.

"So," he said, his dark smile deepening, "did it work?"

I blinked, struggling to understand.

"Pardon, Your Majesty... did what work?"

He leaned in closer, his grin widening.

"You said absence makes the heart grow fonder. Did it work?"

I stifled the urge to laugh at his face.

How did he remember my words from all those weeks ago?

"It did," I replied. "My heart has grown very fond of your absence, Your Majesty."

His laugh rang out, a rich, unsettling sound that drew every eye in the courtyard. My spine stiffened at the unwanted attention.

Why could he not say what he wanted and be done with it?

From behind Sylvos, a familiar trio of women with their entourage of handmaidens strode through the castle gates, each clad in gowns as black as midnight with luxurious cloaks to match. The Nightshade concubines... They traveled alongside the emperor in each of his campaigns and though it was a dangerous duty, it was reserved for the most favored women.

My eyes snagged on Isolde, her blood-red hair spilling down her shoulders. Flanking her were two equally formidable figures: one with raven hair woven into intricate war braids, and the other as pale and delicate as winter frost.

All three of them fixed their glares directly onto me.

"I've never met a woman quite like you, Princess," Sylvos mused, a whisper of humor still lingering from his laughter. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were begging for a swift end."

A chill skittered up my spine. 

I was pretty sure this darned mouth of mine was the reason for half my untimely deaths.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty" I replied, forcing a smile as I cleared my throat. "I am but a simple woman, unfamiliar with the customs of these lands. Where I come from, we show affection with harmless insults."

A complete lie.

"Is that so?" he hummed in thought. "Then, Princess, you must be madly in love with me."

My knuckles tightened.

"Madly, indeed," I replied through gritted teeth.

"Hmm... a strange custom," he teased, leaning down as if to savor each flicker of reaction on my face. "Perhaps I should teach you how the rest of us show our affection?"

Heat seared my face, and I cursed my traitorous blush.

"My love," Isolde interjected, her voice sweet yet edged. She slipped her hand through Sylvos' arm, claiming him with a subtle, practiced grace. "After such a journey, don't you think it would be best to spare your court the discomfort of lingering in this late summer heat? Let's retreat indoors and rest."

Sylvos' face softened as he looked at her, a glint of genuine warmth in his usually cold eyes.

"You're right, my lady," he agreed.

Sylvos turned and walked toward the center of the courtyard to address the gathering.

"The rebel cities have surrendered," he announced, his voice echoing off the courtyard walls. "They've come to recognize the folly of their ambitions, and in the spirit of peace, the Flynmoore province has graciously offered to host this year's Royal Hunt. I have accepted their gift."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd.

"As the journey is a long one," Sylvos continued, "we depart at dawn."

My stomach dropped.

After he dismissed us, the emperor and his entourage headed for his castle, only stopping briefly before he could pass me.

"I look forward to the hunt, Princess," he smiled with a hint of mischief before striding away.

The courtyard buzzed with stunned murmurs.

"Tomorrow?" Lady Virella scoffed beside me. "The emperor must have remarkable faith in us if he thinks we can prepare for a journey like that on a mere day's notice."

"Do you question our sovereign?"

Virella and I both turned to find Isolde still standing before us. Her arms crossed elegantly across her V-cut dress while her green eyes burned with icy resentment.

"Perhaps the war has left your hearing impaired, Lady Isolde," Virella sneered, her own eyes alight with defiance. "I never questioned His Majesty. I simply remarked on his faith in us. If anyone here is questioning him, it must be you, given how quick you are to assume the brides that he chose possess such... bad manners."

I bit back a laugh at Virella's biting tone. She could wield her words like a blade.

Thank the gods I wasn't on the receiving end anymore.

Isolde's gaze narrowed.

"A Clover dares speak to a Nightshade with such brazen disrespect?"

"We're all women of the inner court," Virella replied with a shrug. "A dress's color doesn't intimidate me."

"Of course, rank matters," Isolde sniffed. "Those with His Majesty's favor wield power over those who don't."

Virella's eyes glimmered with a wicked light, sharp as the gold ivy embellishments of her bright green gown.

"Then I'd be worried if I were you," she said casually. "Our sovereign returned from his campaign and went straight to a Clover concubine. Perhaps the Nightshades have... bored him recently."

Isolde's pupils narrowed to pinpricks, her body tensing. She lashed out, her hand slicing through the air, but I seized her wrist before she could strike Virella.

Virella's eyes went wide, then settled into a self-satisfied smirk as she twirled a lock of her curly blonde hair.

"Oh my, how unbecoming for a lady of the inner court," she mused, utterly unfazed.

I held back a laugh, steadying my voice as I turned to the red-haired woman.

"Harming another concubine is not permitted, Lady Isolde."

She yanked her hand free, fixing me with a venomous glare.

"I am well within my rights to discipline lower-ranked concubines."

"Only if they've committed an offense," I reminded her coolly. "And Lady Virella's words defended His Majesty's honor. I fail to see how that's a crime."

Isolde's jaw clenched.

"What about that one?" a soft voice drifted toward us.

My humor faded at the appearance of one of the other Nightshade concubines.

Cerys Palewynd.

Her blonde hair was nearly as light as Sylvos' and her skin translucent enough that faint blue veins traced her eyelids. But it was her eyes, a frozen wasteland of pale blue, that caught you.

Devoid of any emotion.

Yet deadly in its serenity.

"Which one?" Isolde questioned.

There was no light in Lady Cerys' eyes as she flicked them over to Talia who had been holding back sobs the entire time.

"That one," she said flatly. "She looks like one of those people from Flynmoore. I remember a woman with that same hair, impaled on Oldvale's walls. Do you remember, Lady Isolde?" She turned, as if talking about a hat she saw at a boutique. "That one I pointed out with the lovely dress."

The faintest smirk tugged at Isolde's lips as she absorbed Cerys' meaning.

"Strange, isn't it?" Cerys added with a nonchalant tilt of her head. "For her to be weeping at her sovereign's return?"

With that, she turned and drifted away, her handmaidens quick to follow her to the Castle.

My fists clenched.

For all her indifferent airs, Cerys was by far one of the most dangerous women in court.

I turned back to Isolde and felt my dread settle. The spark of malice in her gaze confirmed my fears.

Talia shuddered, shrinking into herself as though her loose-fitting gown could envelop her whole.

"She is merely unwell," I dismissed.

"Dare she show remorse for those wretched rebels of Flynmoore?" Isolde laughed, a cruel, mirthless sound. "I could have her flogged for such insolence against the emperor's victory."

Talia trembled, her sobs growing louder.

"What little remained of my family was from Oldvale..." she cried.

I cursed the woman's foolishness.

Now was not the time to speak such truths!

"Stupid girl," Lady Virella sneered. "Your family deserved their execution. You agree, do you not?"

Though I would have gladly gutted Virella for her callousness, I saw past the cruel words. She was trying to save Talia from a worse fate.

"I have no one..." Talia sniffled, her voice breaking.

Isolde's grin widened, a predator savoring her prey.

"You side with those who took up arms against His Majesty!" she declared, her tone almost celebratory as she turned to her handmaidens. "Restrain her and bring a cane."

A sharp slap sliced through the courtyard, a sound like thunder in the silence. My eyes widened as Talia clutched her cheek, looking to Virella for an answer.

"Apologize and be done with it before I beat you myself," Virella ordered.

Talia, too shocked by the betrayal to comprehend her own humiliation, lowered into the deepest curtsy.

"Forgive me, Lady Virella..." she uttered, voice trembling. "I see now my mistake. I am loyal to the emperor alone and forsake any ties to those who rebelled against him."

"You're forgiven," Virella dismissed, her tone sharp but final.

The public scene had thwarted Isolde's cruel intentions — at least for now.

"Tch," she spat. "I'll keep an eye on you three."

With that, she turned, her footsteps echoing ominously as she headed for the castle with her handmaidens following silently. A weight lifted from my shoulders, though my heart still raced. I quickly embraced Talia before she could break down again.

"It's okay," I whispered, my voice steady. "I understand your pain. But you must not throw your life away. It is yours, after all. Nobody else's."

The smaller woman hugged me back, holding on tightly before letting go.

"I'm sorry for causing a scene..." she murmured, shame painting her cheeks.

"I wish I could've slapped that fox instead," Virella hissed, her gaze darkening toward the direction Isolde had vanished.

When she turned back to Talia, her eyes softened ever so slightly.

"Now, stop that gloom. We must prepare to depart in the morning."

***

After a day of preparing for our journey, I finally parted ways with the other ladies by nightfall.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I dragged a heavy burlap sack of dried plums into my room. I didn't have a moment to spare.

"And where do you think you're going with that?" Ryn's voice floated up dryly from my hip.

Ignoring his disapproval, I wore my cloak, seized a torch, and hefted the sack over my shoulder. Without a backward glance, I slipped into the night and out of Clover Castle, descending into the chasm below. Shadows stretched like talons over the steep steps as I plunged downward.

The air held an edge to it, colder than usual — a silent omen of summer fading toward autumn. The stones beneath my feet were slick with moss and each step seemed to echo with a warning.

"Rainey, stop this madness!" Ryn protested from Raincatcher.

"You were there!" I snapped back. "You heard Sylvos' sudden change in plans... We will all set off at dawn. This will be my last chance to set the vylnir free."

"And why are you taking that sack with you?"

I hesitated to answer, fully aware of how the elf would react.

"I'm hoping it has a sweet tooth..." I muttered, gripping the rough burlap tighter.

"Though it has many teeth, I doubt any of them are sweet," he retorted dryly.

A stone slipped beneath me, and I flailed, grabbing onto a massive thorn to keep from tumbling into the abyss below.

"I was hoping the snack could distract the vylnir while I free it from those cursed thorned vines," I explained.

"Rainey, listen to me," Ryn said. "You are the snack!"

"I'm helping it!"

"You tried helping it plenty in the past and you were killed by it every time. It's a terrible idea," Ryn said. "You're not ready. You barely know enough Elvish. And it's not comfortable around you yet. We've only met the creature twice now. And if you recall, it was drooling at you the last time."

"Well, it's now or never!" I said. "Gosh, I'm still struggling with our last sentence. Is it 'ραιɳ ιʂ σɳʅყ' or 'ραιɳ ιʂ ờn-ly'? Wait, actually, the first one sounded correct."

I finally reached the bottom of the chasm and hurriedly headed for the cave, careful not to impale myself in the ancient thorns.

"Listen, I need you to stop and turn around right now," Ryn pleaded, more desperate than before. "You've never managed to set the creature free in any life. I think it's best for you to give up on the idea rather than throw your life away like this. I told you, we're taking this life slow."

"I can't afford to take it slow!" I argued back. "I need to reach Lavender rank by winter before letters of the sea snake arrive. And I cannot return here once my rank increases at the Royal Hunt. If I don't set the vylnir free now, I know Sylvos will use it in his conquest of Driftwoode next year."

"Rainey, please... I cannot bear to watch you die again."

The elf's desperate tone nearly unraveled my resolve.

Perhaps it was the promise of another chance at life that emboldened my bravado, but regardless, this was a path I could not forsake. There was no escaping it.

"I'm sorry, Ryn," was all I could muster in reply.

Even though this was my third encounter with the creature in this life, my hands trembled like a leaf caught in a storm. The second visit barely counted — I had fled as soon as the vylnir started drooling.

Tonight, the full moon cast a ghostly glow through the crack of the cave, illuminating the ancient prison chamber in a stark, silver light.

The shadow beyond the bars stirred, and then, with a speed that stole my breath, the creature opened its reflective blue eyes, locking its gaze onto mine.

My stomach twisted as a deep growl rumbled from its chest.

Had it grown larger since my last visit?

Its shadowy black fur rippled with an unsettling grace, and I could have sworn I saw its bones shift beneath the surface as it rose to its feet. My eyes widened in horror as its sword-like claws extended further, and its teeth elongated, glinting ominously in the moonlight with each low growl.

"Hҽʅʅσ," I greeted, forcing the Elvish words from my trembling lips. "Mყ ɳαɱҽ ιʂ Raine Stjorme. I αɱ ԋҽɾҽ ƚσ ԋҽʅρ ყσυ. I ɯαɳƚ ƚσ ʂҽƚ ყσυ ϝɾҽҽ..."

I edged closer to the vylnir, dragging the sack behind me like a lifeline. The bars were thick and wide, offering just enough space for me to squeeze through.

The thought of stepping into that darkness felt like inviting death itself.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat a painful reminder of my fear.

"I Ⴆҽɠ ყσυ ƚσ ʅҽƚ ɱҽ ʅιʋҽ," I murmured, my voice trembling as I clung to the few words of High Elvish I had painstakingly learned.

Standing directly before the bars, I knew the creature could claw me apart in an instant if it so desired.

I met its uncanny gaze, and my knees nearly buckled at the sight of its drool. Its black tongue flicked out to taste the air as it shifted around restlessly.

This will not end well...

Steeling myself, I took a shaky breath and stepped into the cage.

***