Chapter 72

Elora’s POV

Fire yanked me outta sleep like a slap.

One second I’m drifting in Dominic’s bed, half-lost in some dream. The next thing, my nose is full of smoke and this nasty orange light’s leaking through the window. For a half-second, I legit thought, oh great, another nightmare. But then the shouting started. Real panic. People losing it, yelling for buckets, for help, for anybody to do something, now.

I was moving before my brain even caught up. Dominic? He was still out cold, snoring like nothing’s wrong. Part of me wanted to stay, just for a second. But the chaos outside was too loud. I grabbed my cloak and bolted for the door.

The courtyard was a disaster. Storage sheds going up like a bonfire, roofs dry as tinder, flames tearing through everything we’d spent half a year trying to squirrel away. Smoke everywhere, burning my eyes, turning my stomach.

“Move!” Some big warrior dude plowed past, looking like he’d already given up hope. You could see it in his face, he was done. And, right then, I just knew this wasn’t some dumb accident. The timing was way too good.

Suspiciously good.

Mira.

Her name shot through my head like a curse. Cold, sharp, venomous.

I shoved into the mess of fighters, yelling over the noise, “Don’t let it spread! Save what’s not burning! Come on, move it! Grab what you can!”

People twisted around, half of them looked at me like I’d lost it, the rest just glad someone was giving orders. Whatever. It got them moving, for a second anyway.

Dante showed up, looking like he had crawled out of a chimney, barking orders left and right. He was made for this kind of chaos. He caught my eye...didn’t say a word, but it was all there. Relief, guilt, frustration just punched me straight in the chest.

By the time the sun bothered to show up, the fire was out…and so was most of our food. Smoke was still curling up and my throat felt like I’d swallowed sand. Everyone was just standing around, ash-smeared.

Half our winter stores...gone. Just like that.

I pressed my hands together, trying to stop them shaking. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. Mira...she’s clever enough to make it look like bad luck, or some idiot’s screwup.

“Elora.”

Dante’s voice yanked me out of my own head. He came over, jaw tight, eyes like steel. “This wasn’t random.”

I nodded, voice cracked but steady. “Nope. Not even close.”

“Someone on the inside.” He didn’t say her name, but we both knew.

I sucked in a breath. “Can’t start pointing fingers. Not yet. But she’s getting reckless.”

He didn’t argue. I didn't need to.

And because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, things only got worse.

By afternoon, this poor messenger dude staggered into the council hall, clothes shredded, blood all over, really selling the drama. Collapsed right in front of us.

“Rogues,” he gasped. “Broke through the south border. Patrols...they took the wrong route.”

My stomach just dropped.

“What do you mean, wrong route?” one of the elders barked.

“The maps, the orders, we got sent east. The rogues came from the ridge.” He glanced at me, terrified.

The room just exploded. Shouting, accusations, everyone’s eyes on me. My chest got tight. If they thought I’d screwed up, Mira wouldn’t have to finish me off, doubt would do it for her.

I stood, trying to sound like I was actually in control. “I didn’t give those orders. Someone changed them.”

People weren’t exactly buying it, but at least the yelling died down. Dante stepped in, voice like a blade. “I was with Elora yesterday. She didn’t do this.”

Finally, a little quiet. I looked around, some faces softened, most didn’t. And in the back? Mira. All fake concern, but her eyes, she was loving this.

Right then, it hit me: she wasn’t just gunning for me. She wanted to break the whole pack. Burn the food, wreck the patrols, turn us all on each other. Do all that, and by the time she made her move, we’d already be toast.

The worst part? It was actually working.

That night, I just sat there, glued to Dominic’s bedside, twisted up inside and out. My fingers clung to his hand, which felt way too limp. Honestly, his breathing was so faint I kept checking if he was still here at all. Every inhale sounded like it might be his last. The dread in my gut? Gnawing, relentless. Pure misery.

Leaning in close, I muttered, “It’s gotta be Mira. She’s unraveling us from the inside. But if I so much as point a finger without proof, I’ll be the one they string up, not her.”

Dominic didn’t move. Not a twitch, not the tiniest squeeze. Just those eyelids fluttering like a dying moth. I pressed my forehead against his hand, eyes shut tight. Tears tried to claw their way out, but, I don’t know, pride or stubbornness, I wouldn’t let them spill. “I’m trying to keep this mess together, Dom. For you. For everyone. But I’m running out of rope.”

Suddenly, a soft knock snapped me out of my pity spiral. Dante slipped in, looking like he’d been dragged backward through a storm, haggard, eyes rimmed red.

“You should sleep,” he mumbled, not even trying to sound convincing.

I just shook my head. No way was I leaving.

He hovered there, all hollow and haunted, then let out this sigh that sounded like it carried the weight of the whole damn pack. “You’re right about her. None of this, food shortages, border chaos, it’s not just bad luck. She’s testing us. Chipping away so something worse can hit us when we’re weakest.”

I finally met his gaze. “Yeah. Something big’s coming.”

No need to say more. The words hung there, ugly and obvious.

After that? Days started blurring. One disaster after the next, like the universe was rolling dice and laughing at us.

Rogues popping up everywhere. Barracks turning into brawl central, warriors at each other’s throats, everyone accusing everyone else of something. And Mira? God, she flitted through the keep like some smug little wraith, whispering poison with that laugh of hers echoing down the halls, while the rest of us looked half-dead.

One morning, this poor servant girl shuffled up to me, wringing her apron like she wanted to strangle it. “My lady,” she stammered, voice all trembling, “Lady Mira told us you blame us for the fire. That you’ll punish anyone who talks.”

My stomach just dropped straight through the floor. “That’s a lie,” I shot back, too harsh, probably, so I tried to soften it. “I’d never hurt you. Or any staff. Ever.”

It didn't matter. The lie was already loose, chewing away at trust. The keep was slipping through my fingers, bleeding out faster than I could patch the wounds.

Council meeting rolled around, and Mira went for the jugular.

“Elora’s got too much on her plate,” she cooed, laying on the concern so thick it was practically dripping. “Can’t expect her to watch Dominic, run the council, keep the borders secure. Mistakes are inevitable.”

The whole room buzzed, nervous energy crackling. I kept my face blank, but my heart was hammering loud enough to drown out their whispers.

Dante cut in, voice like a whip. “She’s held us together since Dominic fell. Without her, we’d be ashes.”

Mira’s lips didn’t even twitch, but her eyes iced over. She hadn’t expected backup.

I forced myself to sit taller, made my voice carry even though my hands were trembling under the table. “Now’s not the time for this. Every minute we waste snarling at each other is a win for whoever’s doing this to us. That’s exactly what they want.”

A few council members bobbed their heads, half-hearted, but I’d take it. The rest just stared holes in the table. Mira tilted her head, all sweet and docile, but that little smirk betrayed her. She was just gearing up.

And at that moment? I knew, all of it, the fire, the missing patrols, the gossip was just her opening act.

The real hell hadn’t even walked in the door yet.