CHAPTER 4: A Prince in Transition

“Don’t move,” I whisper into the absolute darkness, my heart slamming against my ribs as heavy breathing echoes off the mirrors.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Genevieve snaps from somewhere to my left. Her voice shakes badly, but she sounds like she’d rather die than admit fear.

“I’m not telling you what to do,” I say quietly. “I’m telling you that moving in a room full of mirrors in the dark is how you walk into glass and bleed out. Just stay still.”

A pause follows, filled only with shallow, uneven breathing.

“Fine,” she mutters.

Heavy footsteps reach the top of the gallery staircase and stop.

The silence that follows is worse than the sound.

I stand still in the center of the circle, dust settling on my shoulders, darkness pressing in from every direction. Beside me, a girl breathes too fast, on the edge of panic. Someone else is praying under their breath.

Then the torches come back to life.

All at once, the flames erupt, flooding the gallery with orange light. I blink against the glare.

The doorway at the far end is empty.

But the Matron stands in the opposite entrance, silver rod in hand, face unreadable. She looks up at the cracked ceiling, then at us, at me standing calmly in the center while the others crouch against walls or the floor.

“Gallery dismissed,” she says. “Return to your quarters immediately.”

“What was that?” Genevieve demands, pushing herself up. “What was up on those stairs?”

“That is not your concern, Miss Ashford.”

“It cracked the ceiling.”

“Return to your quarters. I will not repeat myself.”

Genevieve hesitates, then looks at me. Something in my face makes her look away quickly. She straightens her dress and walks out like nothing happened.

The others follow in a rush.

I don’t move.

“Miss Lunaris,” the Matron warns.

“Was that him?” I ask, staring at the empty staircase. “The prince?”

A long silence.

“Go to your room, Aylin.”

“I need to know what I’m dealing with if I’m supposed to be his anchor.”

“You are dealing with what your family signed you up for,” she says flatly. “A prince in transition. That is all.”

I turn and leave.

Kaelen is already inside the Spire when I return.

He stands by the glass wall, arms crossed, watching the jagged mountains. He turns as I enter, like he already knows what happened.

“That was him,” I say.

“Yes,” he answers quietly.

“He was right above us. He could’ve killed us.”

“The transition pulls him under,” Kaelen says. “When it happens, he moves on instinct. He doesn’t always know where he is.”

“That’s not comforting.”

He exhales but doesn’t argue.

“How much time?” I ask, sitting on the bed.

“The Blood Moon is in four days,” he says. “That’s when the tether activates. That’s when you become his anchor properly. Until then, we keep him contained.”

“Contained,” I repeat.

His silence is answer enough.

My gaze drops to my hands, then lifts again.

“The other girls,” I say.

Kaelen watches me.

“Genevieve, the others. If I’m the A-Prime, why are they still here?”

“They are safeguards,” he says carefully. “Before testing confirms an A-Prime, multiple vessels are kept in case the primary fails.”

“In case I die,” I say.

He doesn’t deny it.

“So they’re backups,” I say. “Girls locked in this palace in case I don’t survive.”

“They are housed. Fed. They are not harmed....”

“They are prisoners,” I cut in sharply. “I know what a cage looks like.”

Kaelen goes quiet.

“They didn’t choose this,” I continue. “None of them did. When this tether activates, I want them released. Every girl below A-Prime. All of them.”

He studies me for a long moment.

“That’s not a request you can make to me,” he says finally. “You would have to take it to him.”

“Then I will.”

Something shifts in his expression, like he’s seeing me differently.

“Dinner is at seven,” he says, turning toward the door. “Don’t leave the Spire tonight.”

He pauses at the frame.

“Whatever you hear,” he adds. “Stay inside this room.”

The door shuts. The lock clicks.

The light fades into grey.

I sit on the edge of the bed, thinking about the girl in the gallery, hands clasped, praying silently, trying to survive something she never agreed to.

Then it starts.

A sound rises from deep below the palace.

Screaming.

Raw, Endless, Not fully human.

The glass walls tremble.

And the palace breathes back.