***

My breath faltered as his lips hovered close. Heat radiated off him, heavy and stifling. His dark lashes lowered, and for one reckless moment, I didn't move.

I almost gave in.

But then I remembered it all. I saw it as though it happened yet again. Briarvex, slick with my blood, piercing through my chest.

The pain.

The betrayal.

The child I'd never held.

I jerked back as if burned, shattering the moment.

"This is not appropriate for my rank," I said, my voice brittle and sharp.

I stumbled off the fur bed, forcing distance between us.

Sylvos' eyes darkened, but he didn't rise to stop me. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, a slow smirk curling at his lips.

"Your rank," he repeated as though tasting the word. "You plan to change it at my birthday ball, right?"

I forced my chin higher, though my pulse hammered against my ribs.

"Yes."

His smirk deepened, hunger glinting in his gaze.

"Then I suppose I don't mind waiting a little longer for you."

I turned before he could see the flush creeping up my neck. My hands trembled as I straightened my gown, desperate to escape the suffocating heat of his chambers.

The heavy doors groaned open, and the guards stiffened. Their eyes flicked to me, widening slightly as they took in my rushed state. Whispers stirred like dead leaves, echoing down the hall as servants paused in their duties to watch me pass.

I ignored them.

Every step felt heavier than the last as I walked the shadowed corridors of Dornhold's fortress. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out the murmurs that followed me.

I wanted to feel anger. At him. At myself.

But all I felt was the phantom heat of his touch. And the weight of my own weakness.

When my thoughts became too much, I stumbled into the garden, pushing past the hedges until I was sure no one was nearby. My knees struck the damp earth, and I sank into it, my pink dress pooling around me like spilled wine.

My fingers tangled in my hair, desperate to claw the thoughts from my skull.

Useless, useless, thoughts.

"You pity him in every life."

The voice jolted me awake. My breath caught, but I relaxed as recognition sank in.

I drew Raincatcher from my side and stared at the blade. Ryn sat beside me on the grass, legs crossed as he gazed at the stars. The moonlight cast his grayish skin in shades of blue, his black hair reflecting like a raven's feather. His pointed ears angled slightly back.

"What if... what if I told him the truth?" I could barely hear my own voice. "About how I died — and came back?"

Ryn didn't look at me.

"You ask that almost every time," he said, his voice soft against the cold night air. "And every time, I have to tell you that you did try it once."

"And?"

"And he killed you all the same."

I froze, my reflection distorted in the blade's steel.

"What—"

"Not at first," Ryn murmured, finally lowering his gaze to meet mine. "He didn't believe you. As a rule, the tyrant doesn't believe in things he can't actually see for himself. He thought you'd confused a dream with reality."

"Oh..."

My eyes cast down as I traced the engravings on Raincatcher's hilt.

"You lived longer that time — three years," Ryn continued. "Almost longer than your first life. Almost..." His voice darkened. "But like all the others, it ended in blood."

My hands trembled as I gripped the dagger tighter.

"How?"

Ryn's eyes reflected a deep blue.

"Isolde was murdered. Her throat slit with your Windcleaver. While investigating the matter, some of your old treasons were uncovered. You pleaded for mercy, begged him not to kill you again — but it only proved to appear as a motive. He was sure your madness spurred your vengeance against her."

I hung my head, staring into my lap as the words burned through me.

"So, he wouldn't believe me then..."

"You waver in every life," Ryn said gently. "And it gets you killed."

"I just..." I swallowed hard. "I wish he didn't look so innocent." The confession bled out before I could stop it. "This Sylvos hasn't committed any crimes against me. Not yet. I want to kill the tyrant, not the man."

Ryn's eyes hardened.

"And what about him?" he asked. "Do you think he hesitated to kill you when you were innocent?"

"Just that one time..."

"What?"

I leaned back and let my gaze drift toward the stars.

"I was innocent only in my first life... Every life after, I've committed treason to ruin him. From his perspective, I've betrayed him countless times." My voice cracked. "Even now, if my letters to Pyree are found, I'll lose my head."

"Rainey..." Ryn's tone softened. "Don't falter. We can't waste another life. You must end it this time."

"I know." My voice barely held as I buried my face in my hands. "I know..."

The words felt empty.

"I wish I'd left my heart behind the first time it was ripped out." My voice broke. Raw, brittle, and bitter. "I wish I was stronger. I wish I was better."

"You are better," Ryn murmured. His presence shifted behind me, arms wrapping around my shoulders even though I couldn't feel them. "But being the better person won't save you."

A breeze caressed my ear, and I nearly mistook it for his breath as he leaned closer.

"The only way to kill him is to be worse than him."

I nodded, but dread writhed in my stomach.

Could I kill a man for sins he has yet to commit? Was it fair to punish him for something he has no memory of?

The thought burrowed deep, twisting inside me like a parasite.

Perhaps that was why I had failed so many times before.

Ryn was right.

The only path left was to become every bit the monster Sylvos had been to me.

I had made a vow, after all.

The snap of twigs broke through the stillness, and voices drifted through the garden.

My breath caught. Slowly, I rose and crept toward the hedge's edge, parting the leaves just enough to glimpse the scene beyond.

Isolde. Cerys. And Griveen.

They stood together, moonlight sharpening their faces as whispers cut through the night.

"...never told me she was a princess!" Griveen's voice was sharp with panic.

"Does it matter?" Isolde's voice dripped with venom.

"Of course it matters!" Griveen hissed. "The agreement was to get rid of a simple Peony concubine. If I'd known she was a princess, and the emperor's Beast Warden, I wouldn't have done it! That creature nearly devoured me!"

"But she is a Peony concubine," Isolde said smoothly. "We never lied."

"You've ruined me! My poor griffon enslaved, my reputation in tatters, and the emperor loathes me now!"

"The one who failed our agreement is you. You're a Nightshade. You got your rank."

"Rank be damned! If rank mattered, you wouldn't be so threatened by a Peony."

Isolde laughed.

"It's not me who's threatened," she said. "It's the emperor. That woman is after his life. I'm only trying to protect him. You wouldn't believe how many concubines come here as assassins. She's no different."

"How do you know?" Griveen demanded, blue eyes narrowing.

I pressed closer, trying to hear them more clearly.

Isolde flicked her red hair over her shoulder, her lips curling.

"I'm Bludverdiian. We can smell bloodlust, you know. I smelled it the moment she first entered the banquet hall on her arrival. Though His Majesty doesn't believe things he cannot see himself, I know what I sensed. She wants his life — and mine too. I've never smelled anyone with such a strong hunger for blood."

My breath stilled.

I hadn't known this about Isolde...

"Then what can we do?" Griveen asked.

"We watch her," Cerys said calmly, tucking a pale blond hair behind her ear. "She'll slip. Whether it's poison, rumors, or treasonous letters, we'll catch her eventually."

Panic flared inside me.

If they uncovered even a fragment of my plans... If they so much as glimpsed the letters I'd sent to Pyree or my sisters...

I wouldn't live to see the dawn.

"I hate waiting." Isolde crossed her arms, the silk of her black sleeves swaying in the breeze. "If her rank climbs too high, she might get rid of us first. Then who will be left to protect His Majesty? Is it not better to plant evidence and be rid of her before she can harm anyone?"

"Perhaps..." Cerys's words hung heavy as fog. "But the evidence would need to be thorough. You know Sylvos pardons his brides too easily."

"And what about me?" Griveen's voice wavered. "What happens if the emperor still hates me?"

"There's still use for you," Isolde said. "If we can't dispose of her before the war begins, you'll have the most important role to play."

"I just..." Griveen faltered. "I need to keep His Majesty's favor. That's all I want. My kingdom needs assurances — that he won't turn his eyes our way once Fayndor falls."

Isolde scoffed, her lips curling.

"If His Majesty wants your kingdom, you should give it to him. Even though my mother is a Duchess of Bludverdii, I'd still stand with Sylvos if he decided to burn my homeland to ash. You aren't loyal to Vrostvale anymore, Princess. You're loyal to your husband."

Griveen's head bowed, strands of white-tipped hair ghosting across her face as the breeze stirred.

"Of course..."

My pulse thundered, drowning out the rustle of leaves.

"To be honest, I'd prefer we end her before she reaches Lavender," Isolde continued. "I can't stomach the thought of His Majesty bedding that vicious woman."

"And if she carries his child," Cerys added, "it could complicate matters..."

Isolde's crimson lips twisted into something cruel.

"The chances are too low. Surely the gods wouldn't curse Sylvos with her as his Empress."

The very thought of it made me off balance. I shifted my weight, but as I did, a sharp crack split the air as my foot snapped a twig.

Silence fell.

The women stilled.

I pressed back into the shadows, heart racing so hard it hurt.

Had they heard?

I couldn't stay to find out. Slipping through the hedges, I fled into the deeper gloom of the gardens, leaves clawing at my dress like grasping hands.

I'd heard enough to know my situation at court was even worse than I realized.

The fact that Isolde was aware of my intentions from the start threw me off the most. I'd assumed she was simply jealous as she had been in my first life, but it seemed her determination to kill me this time stemmed from her fierce desire to protect Sylvos.

Which made her even more dangerous.

The thought burrowed deep, bitter as poison.

It explained why Sylvos had never hesitated to kill me. With Isolde hissing warnings of my bloodlust in his ear, he must have been waiting for any sign to turn his blade on me.

I bit down a curse as I hurried through the shadows. Peony Castle loomed in the distance, and I walked as fast as I could.

Damn it.

I'd been at a disadvantage from the very start.

Even now, if the Nightshades uncovered my treason, I wouldn't live to see another sunrise. No matter how much Sylvos might favor me, his hand would be forced.

And as if that wasn't enough, I had to watch out for traps they could plant too.

How was I supposed to raise an army against the emperor with those women breathing down my neck?

I reached Peony Castle and climbed the stairs, each step heavy with dread. I'd just reached my chambers when Virella and Sireen appeared.

"Oh, good. You're still intact," Virella said, her green eyes scanning me for any injuries.

"You wouldn't believe what I overheard," I said, but my gaze slid to Sireen.

For once, her wide dark eyes weren't glazed with complete blissful detachment. There was something else there.

Worry?

"The Nightshades are determined to have me killed," I said. "And I suspect Princess Griveen is after Sireen's life too. She tried to poison her."

Virella stiffened, but Sireen only nodded as if she'd already made peace with it.

"What are those crows plotting now?" Virella demanded.

I hesitated, weighing my words.

"They mean to uncover treason — or plant it themselves if they can't find any," I said, voice low. "With their rank, they won't struggle to twist the truth. If we want to survive, we need allies. And we need to rise high enough to be untouchable."

Virella smirked coldly. 

"Then perhaps we should return the favor."

I nodded.

"It won't be easy," I said. "Sylvos has trusted them for years. Their lies will carry more weight than our truths. We'll need more than rumors and accusations. We'll need to set a trap as well and catch them in it."

Virella flicked a glance toward Sireen.

"We'll keep an eye out for any suspicious ploys..." she said. "Though you and I are, of course, innocent of treason... we'd best avoid falling into their traps."

"Agreed," I said.

Though we were anything but innocent.

One was a spy, and the other a usurper.

If Virella and I were to survive, we'd need a far better rank.

Sireen broke the silence, her voice soft, trailing the edges of a melody as if she were half-lost in a dream.

"You should leave evidence of my cousin and the other Nightshades working together," she murmured, her smile faint. "That way, when Griveen claims my life, you can let them all take the blame together."

Virella and I both turned to her.

She didn't flinch beneath our stares. She didn't look afraid at all.

"For that plan to work, you'd have to die," Virella said with narrowed brows.

Sireen tilted her head, her expression almost puzzled, like someone trying to understand a language they'd never heard before.

"If I'm going to die anyway, why not make use of it?"

"You won't die," I said, gripping her arm.

But as the words left me, I felt ashamed of them. I couldn't even save Talia. I had no way of actually protecting anyone.

"Don't throw yourself away so easily," I said, softer this time. "We'll find another way."

Still, Sireen only stared at me with those wide, empty eyes — like a bird watching its reflection in a window.

I let her go with a sigh, exhaustion pressing down on me.

"It's been a long day. Get some rest. We have less than three months to prepare for the emperor's birthday ball."

I met her gaze, my words sharper this time.

"You'll help us, won't you? You said you could sing. We'll need that to climb ranks. It's important that you stay alive, Sireen. Important for all of us."

For the first time, something shifted in her eyes. Her shoulders straightened, and her lips curved into a bright, almost childlike smile.

"Oh, yes. I can help with that."

Virella and I exchanged glances.

We hadn't planned for this, hadn't expected to need a songbird among us. But I just felt that Sireen needed something to hold on to.

"Now get some sleep," I said, brushing her short hair lightly. "We'll practice in the morning."

She beamed at me, so bright it made my stomach twist.

"Of course," she said, already humming as she turned and slipped from the room, the haunting melody trailing behind her like mist.

When the door closed, Virella exhaled slowly.

"What a strange ghost," she murmured.

"Strange, but useful," I said. "She knows about the griffons. They may not be as large as I feared, but they're still a threat to Driftwoode's fleet. Be sure your brother warns the navy."

"You can tell him yourself."

I looked up.

"What?"

Virella sighed.

"Cav's waiting for you — same place as when the three of us met. Apparently, he has a letter from Drakfeet."

"Drakfjord," I corrected with a dry chuckle.

"Yes, that."

Pulling a dark grey cloak from the chair near the hearth, I fastened it tightly.

"I suppose I won't keep him waiting, then."

"Good," Virella said, smirking. "And give him a hard time while you're at it. I haven't bullied him nearly enough recently."

"Gladly."

The halls of Peony Castle were dark as I swiftly made my way through them. It was quiet, save for the groans of the castle as everyone else slept. A cool breeze combed past me as I stepped out into the courtyard, moonlight painting the garden in silver and shadow.

I kept to the edge of the path, my pace quick. The deeper I ventured toward the cliffside trail, the darker it grew. The trees leaned too close, branches clawing at the sky.

I reached the clearing where Cavriel and I had met before. But the space was empty.

I slowed.

"Ser Cavriel?"

No answer.

The air felt colder as I glanced around.

"Cavriel?"

The cool bite of metal grazed the back of my neck.

Goosebumps spilled down my arms before I whirled around.

Cavriel stepped out from the shadows, spear in hand — its sharp edge gleaming under the moonlight. His eyes reflected more turquoise than green in the night.

He twirled the weapon in a smooth arc before it came to rest at his side.

"You should be more aware of your surroundings, little girl," he said, reaching into his armor and pulling out a folded letter.

I exhaled sharply as I fought the urge to fling Raincatcher at that smug face.

"You're lucky it was me," he added, holding the letter out.

"Stop calling me that," I grumbled.

I aimed to grab the parchment, though he lifted it just out of reach.

"Why? Am I wrong?" he asked.

I knew even attempting to reach the letter as he held it up was futile. With his tall frame, all I'd do was indignify myself.

My eyes narrowed as I glared at him from beneath my lashes.

"Why in damnation would you sneak up on me in the first place? And now this?"

"Just proving a point and testing your skills," he said, finally handing the letter over. "Though I'm hardly impressed."

I rolled my eyes as I tore the letter open.

"My talents lie elsewhere," I muttered.

I skimmed through the content with a gnawing sense of unease.

The Pyreen envoy had arrived in Drakfjord, and Skye and Malrik had met. My brows narrowed as I read further. Some disagreements have come up that would prolong marriage negotiations.

My head cocked back.

The proposal hasn't been accepted?

"I need to write another letter," I said.

Cavriel glanced at me, his fingers absentmindedly picking at the spear resting beside him.

"I'm leaving next week to send more reports," he said. "I'll make sure it gets delivered."

"Thank you..."

He gave a shallow nod, barely acknowledging the gratitude.

"You saw the griffons?" I asked.

"Why else would I be in such a hurry to deliver letters?" Cavriel raised an eyebrow.

"Would it kill you to stop wearing that scowl?" I sighed, unable to hold back the barb.

"I don't scowl," he scowled.

"Ha." I shook my head. "It's all you ever do."

He muttered something under his breath.

"I usually have a lot on my mind," he grumbled.

I grinned, watching his discomfort.

"Oh, really? From what Virella tells me, there's not much going on up there."

I flicked my finger at his head, but he caught my wrist, his fingers cold against my skin.

"Don't act so familiar," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "We could both be executed for smuggling these letters if we're discovered."

I arched a brow, unfazed.

"Oh, yes. The shrubs and crickets will run straight to His Majesty. Be careful now."

"Tch." He released my wrist. "You're going to get yourself killed with that mouth of yours."

"Is that so?" I muttered, turning away, my gaze drifting toward the darkened forest below.

Was Vyvy out hunting?

"I don't care if you get yourself killed," Cavriel said, his voice rough. "But you'd damn well better watch it. My sister's involved in this too."

I waved him off dismissively, eyes still fixed on the distant twisting trees.

"Don't worry. If Virella gets hurt, I could always just kill myself."

Cavriel grabbed my arm and turned me toward him.

"What good would that do?"

"More than your scowling, that's for sure," I mocked.

His frown deepened, the lines of his face hardening.

"I hate people like you the most," he growled. "You think your clever tongue can save you, but when the moment comes, the emperor or some half-baked soldier could slit your throat without a second thought. Stop pretending you can protect anything. You're not as tough as you talk."

Though I wanted to fire back with a biting retort, his words were true.

I had seen enough deaths in my dreams to know I was no fighter. My skill with blades extended no further than dancing. Each attempt at wielding a weapon against Sylvos or a guard had ended with me disarmed and skewered.

"Then teach me," I said, throwing my hands in defeat. "I can't improve if no one will help me."

Cavriel's gaze flickered with doubt, eyes narrow as he sized me up.

"You think that if I teach you, it'll be enough to save you?" he asked, his voice low with mockery. "You're only a woman. Even the stable hand could overpower you if it came to that."

I met his gaze steadily, unfazed by the harsh words.

"I'm not strong, but I'm quick and agile. I danced for years. Maybe if I learn to wield a weapon, I can be fast enough to make a difference. You never know. Maybe one day, the only thing standing between your sister and a charging soldier, will be me. Her and I are almost always together, after all. When that day comes, you'll wish you'd shown me something."

For a moment, his eyes softened, the hardness in his face giving way. He scratched the back of his curly blonde hair.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to show you a thing or two..."

His gaze locked onto the blade by my side.

"We'll start with that," he said, nodding toward Raincatcher.

I unsheathed the blade, the steel gleaming in the dim light. In its reflection, Ryn leaned casually against a tree close by, laughing only for me to hear.

"This should be amusing," the elf called out.

I shot him a dark glare, my hand tightening around the hilt of my dagger.

"Don't underestimate me..." I muttered.

Before I could even prepare, Cavriel moved — his speed a blur. The blade was easily ripped from my hand as the world tilted. I barely had time to register his cruel smile before I crashed to the ground. My jaw hung open.

"I think I should," Cavriel snickered.

"I ɱιɠԋƚ σɾԃҽɾ ƚԋҽ ʋყʅɳιɾ ƚσ ʂιƚ σɳ ყσυ ιϝ ყσυ ԃσ ƚԋαƚ αɠαιɳ," I grumbled.

I could hear Ryn laugh again even though I couldn't see him.

Great.

This will be... fun.

***

Heyyyy

The update is a bit late, but we're here XD I hope you're enjoying the story so far!

Anything you would love to see next?

I'm thinking next chapter will have a slight time skip so we're closer to the birthday ball. And probably we will see Skye's POV again.

~Holly Shmit