Novel-novel oleh Martius Rayne

Snow fell heavier that night than it had all season.It swallowed sound, softened the woods, and turned every breath into a ghost.Cris walked ahead, torchlight trembling in his hand, guiding Leo up the narrow slope. The prince’s cloak was torn at the shoulder, his steps uneven from exhaustion, but he said nothing. Only the crunch of ice beneath their boots marked the rhythm of their silence.When they finally reached the ridge, Cris pointed toward a dark shape half-buried under snow - a stone cabin, old and forgotten, the kind that hunters used generations ago. Smoke hadn’t risen from it in years.“This should keep us hidden,” Cris said quietly.Leo nodded, his voice low and rough. “If it doesn’t collapse first.”They forced the door open together. Inside, the air was dry and stale, thick with dust. A single window gaped open to the storm, its frame cracked. Still, it was shelter.Cris set the torch in the corner and knelt by the hearth. “There’s enough wood left to start a small fir

Snow fell heavier that night than it had all season.It swallowed sound, softened the woods, and turned every breath into a ghost.Cris walked ahead, torchlight trembling in his hand, guiding Leo up the narrow slope. The prince’s cloak was torn at the shoulder, his steps uneven from exhaustion, but he said nothing. Only the crunch of ice beneath their boots marked the rhythm of their silence.When they finally reached the ridge, Cris pointed toward a dark shape half-buried under snow - a stone cabin, old and forgotten, the kind that hunters used generations ago. Smoke hadn’t risen from it in years.“This should keep us hidden,” Cris said quietly.Leo nodded, his voice low and rough. “If it doesn’t collapse first.”They forced the door open together. Inside, the air was dry and stale, thick with dust. A single window gaped open to the storm, its frame cracked. Still, it was shelter.Cris set the torch in the corner and knelt by the hearth. “There’s enough wood left to start a small fir

The throne room smelled lightly of iron and smoke.Servants rushed to mop the rainwater off the marble floors, their silence tense and careful. The storm had moved on, but its presence still clung to the halls - the kind that leaves the air heavy and the mind uneasy.Anna stood near the dais, cloak damp, her sword still sheathed at her hip. She hadn’t slept. Not since the chase. Not since Leo slipped through her grasp.A guard knelt before her. “We searched the outer quarter, Your Grace. No sign of the prince or the Viremonthe heir. Only the horses they left behind.”Anna’s jaw tightened. “Then keep searching.”The guard hesitated. “The Queen Mother ordered a full lockdown of the eastern gates—”“I didn’t ask what the Queen Mother ordered.”Her tone sliced through the room like drawn steel. “Find them, or find someone who will.”He bowed low and retreated, leaving her alone with the sound of her own breathing.When she looked toward the throne, something cold twisted inside her. It st

Rain struck the cobblestones like thrown glass.Leo and Cris ran through the lower corridors, drenched, breath heavy, shadows snapping against torchlight. The storm outside drowned every sound, the thunder their only ally as they slipped through the outer gate and into the city below.“Which way?” Leo demanded, scanning the narrow streets that glistened like spilled ink.Cris pointed toward the eastern docks. “There’s a passage near the old storehouse, it leads to the river tunnels.”Leo nodded, gripping his arm for balance as they darted into a narrow lane. The smell of wet stone and iron filled the air. Somewhere behind them, shouts cut through the rain.“They’ve noticed,” Cris hissed.“Then we move faster.”They sprinted through the maze of Thornvale’s lower quarter - once a haven of trade, now hollow with the echo of sleeping markets and closed taverns. Lanterns swayed in the wind as lightning carved brief silver ghosts across the walls.When they reached the granary, Leo pulled C

Cris sat in the cold cell, back against the stone, wrists still raw from the restraints. The torchlight from the corridor trembled with every draft, painting the walls in shifting gold and shadow.He could still hear the echoes from the trial. Leo’s voice breaking through the noise, Anna’s fury disguised as grace, the Queen Mother’s unreadable calm.He should have felt trapped.Instead, all he could think about was Leo - his defiance, his eyes steady even when the world turned against him.A faint sound broke the silence. Boots. Slow. Careful.He lifted his head.The guard outside paused, then the door creaked open.Owen stepped in, dressed in black, the dim light catching the edge of his blade sheath.Cris rose slowly. “So this is how she sends you now? No more letters, just orders?”Owen closed the door behind him, locking it with a quiet click. “You don’t make this easy, do you?”“Try dying for love once,” Cris said softly. “You stop caring about easy.”Owen’s expression flickered

The council chamber of Thornvale had never been this quiet. Even the banners seemed to hold their breath, motionless above a sea of polished armor and nervous faces.Cris stood at the center, wrists bound in gold-tinted restraints - ornamental, but no less cruel. The guards flanking him were dressed in ceremonial black, as if his presence were already a funeral.The Queen Mother sat at the head of the long marble table, back straight, expression unreadable. Anna stood to her right, the perfect picture of composure. Only her eyes betrayed the tension… bright, expectant, sharpened like a blade waiting for its cue.Owen stood behind her chair, silent. He hadn’t slept. The lines beneath his eyes had deepened, but he held himself steady, the mask uncracked.When the herald’s voice faded, the Queen Mother’s words cut through the air.“Lord Cris of Viremonthe. You stand before this court accused of espionage, treason, and the intent to destabilize peace between our realms.”The chamber stirr