The crown felt heavier than a huge portion of oak wood, even though it wasn’t on Aaron’s head yet.“All hail King Aaron.”The words still echoed in his skull as he stood in the great hall, his body rooted like stone while the world swirled around him. Advisors whispered. Servants bustled. Guards shifted. And still he stood, silent, sick with grief, as if his father’s death had carved a hole straight through him.He wanted to drink again. To drown. To run back to the battlefield and scream into the cliffs until his lungs burst. Anything but this. Anything but kingship.But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when so many eyes watched him, weighing his every breath, his every silence.It was Alaric who stirred him. A hand — bruised, cut, unsteady — pressed briefly to his shoulder, grounding him. Aaron blinked and looked at him, the Veridian prince as battered as the war itself, but still standing. Still here.And then word reached them.“The king’s body rests in his chamber. The queen awai
The courtyard reeked of steel, sweat, and horsehide, yet beneath it all lay the sharper scent of tension. Veridian soldiers stood in ranks, their cloaks battered, their blades still stained from Selvane’s blood. They should have been preparing to march home, and should have been returning in triumph with their prince.But their prince was gone.Aaron stood before them, bottle in hand, his red cloak slipping from one shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot, and the hollows beneath them looked carved out by sleepless nights. He swayed faintly, but his voice carried when he finally spoke.“You should have been home already.” He raised the bottle, took a sharp swallow, and lowered it again with a grimace. “But I can’t—won’t—send you back without him. Not like this. Not with empty hands, empty saddles.” His throat bobbed. “Not with Veridia’s crown waiting for a son who hasn’t returned.”A ripple passed through the soldiers. They had been hardened in battle, yet there was something desperate, unf
The morning light had no warmth.It spilled across the chamber in thin, sharp lines, touching Kael where he sat curled on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t moved since the night before.The baby was still in his arms.Kael’s lips had gone pale, almost bloodless. His eyes, once bright, burned an unnatural red, the veins spiderwebbing through them from hours of tears that would no longer fall. His body had withered in the space of a single night. The softness of pregnancy, the fullness of his cheeks, the gentle swell that had made him glow… all of it had collapsed inward. He looked carved out, hollow, a ghost of the boy he had been just days ago.And the baby… the tiny bundle wrapped so carefully… had darkened. The skin no longer soft, but dusky purple, the stillness undeniable.No one in the room spoke.No one dared.Theron stood like a stone at the far wall, fists locked at his sides, jaw iron tight. Elara sat near the bed, her hands clasped so hard her knuckles had gone white, eyes swol
(Aaron's POV)The morning light was cruel.It poured across the mountainside as if the world had no idea what had been lost the night before. The birds still sang. The wind still shifted the banners raggedly nailed into the dirt. But the cliffside where I stood was silent, heavy, stained with blood and memory.I hadn’t moved from it.Not really.The flask hung heavy in my hand, nearly empty, my tongue numb from the burn of wine that had never stopped flowing. My cloak was damp with dew, streaked with dirt. My men shifted restlessly behind me, their armor creaking, their eyes bloodshot from searching all night with nothing to show.No Alaric.“Your Highness.” A soldier’s voice, hoarse, careful, broke the silence. He stepped forward, helm in hand, his other arm wrapped in a bloodied bandage. “We’ve scoured every path, every jagged slope. The tide below’s too strong… there’s no way he…” His words faltered. He swallowed hard. “The men are wounded. Some barely stand. They beg you to lead t
(Kael’s POV)The first thing I knew was sound.Muffled voices, not sharp enough to pierce the fog in my head. Words tumbling over one another, blurred, but heavy… too heavy.“…can’t save it…”“…before he wakes…”“…not alive…”I tried to pull the pieces together, but they slid like water through my mind. The air smelled of iron and smoke, thick, clinging to my tongue. My body felt… wrong. Heavy. But something inside me—something missing—made my heart start pounding.No.The voices sharpened as I blinked, lids dragging open like they were weighed down with stone. The chamber swam into view. Shadows. Faces. My mother’s, streaked with tears. Theron standing rigid, shoulders taut like he could break apart if he let himself move. My grandmother bent over herbs and blood-stained cloths, her voice hoarse as she murmured something low.And Silas. Silas was watching me, eyes blazing, fixed and burning.It the memory hit me. The fire in my veins. The poison. The screaming. The baby.My baby.I
“No!”The word ripped from Aaron’s throat as Alaric’s red cloak vanished into the darkness.He lunged forward, hand outstretched, but his fingers closed on nothing but air. The cliff’s edge scraped beneath his boots, stone crumbling away under his weight. Strong arms seized him from behind, soldiers dragging him back before he toppled over with his brother.The night exploded with shouts.“Your Highness!”“Prince Alaric!”“Down the cliff—he’s fallen—”“Light! Bring light!”The army’s victory roars had died with one shove. Now panic spread like wildfire, men running in all directions, lanterns flaring to life as horns blared in the distance.Aaron shoved the soldier off him, his chest heaving. He dropped to his knees at the cliff’s edge, staring into the abyss. Wind howled up from below, carrying nothing but darkness. His gut twisted, his wolf snarling inside him, desperate.Alaric.He gritted his teeth, forcing his voice steady. “Get ropes. Now. Lanterns. Search parties down both side