LOGINPOV: WREN THORNE"Say his name again," I told Ivy, watching her face the way Ronan had taught me to watch a suspect who might not know she was one. "Say Rurik's name and tell me what you feel when you do."We sat alone in the small guest room she had been given. It had a narrow bed, a washstand, a window that looked out on the kitchen garden, and two guards outside the door under the pretense of protection rather than confinement, though we both understood which one it actually was. Ivy's hands twisted together in her lap. I watched her flinch, small but unmistakable, at the sound of the name leaving her own mouth.Outside, the afternoon had gone amber. I could hear the kitchen staff calling to each other across the yard, a cart creaking, a child laughing somewhere. The ordinary noises of a manor going about its ordinary business, and here we sat on the other side of the wall picking a stranger's marriage apart for weapons."Rurik," she said. Her breath caught. "Why does that feel dif
POV: KADE ASHBORN"His son," my father repeated. The words dropped into the war room like stones into still water.Wren had ridden back from Maren's cottage well past midnight to deliver the news. Exhaustion was carved into every line of her face, mud dried to her boots, and yet she had insisted on gathering us at once rather than waiting for morning. I understood why the moment she finished explaining. If Corvyn's own blood had married into a family close enough to Ashborn territory to walk our halls freely, then Ivy's return was not simply a complication. It might be an opportunity Corvyn himself had engineered.The lamps had burned down to their last inch of oil. Nobody had thought to trim them.I had spent most of the last three nights in this room, one way or another, and I knew every crack in its plaster. It had never felt small until now. Everyone sat a little too close and a little too stiff, like mourners at a funeral who did not yet know who had died."We need to consider,"
POV: WREN THORNE"He did not run," Maren said. "He was collected."I had come to her that evening with the trainer's story still raw in my mouth, the way the trail had gone cold at the river, the way the hounds had circled the bank and whined and refused to go further. We sat again at her crowded table, the candle burned lower now, casting longer shadows across jars I still could not name. Her face had gone pale when I described the river. She had said nothing for a long moment. Then she had said that."Corvyn does not let loose ends run free long enough to be questioned," she went on. "If your trainer reached the river alive, someone was waiting to make sure he did not stay that way."The thought sat cold and heavy in my stomach, another life swallowed by the machinery Corvyn had spent six patient years building. I thought of Cody, safe for now behind the manor walls, and wondered how many more names would be added to the list of people who paid for standing too close to the truth.I
POV: KADE ASHBORN"Everyone keeps saying it does not matter," Cody said, "and everyone keeps acting like it decides everything anyway."His hands were shaking. I had just finished telling him, crouched to his eye level in the training yard, that nothing that happened in the circle would decide who he was. It was true. It was also the kind of true that means very little to a fifteen-year-old boy about to be judged in front of every elder in the territory. I hated that I could not tell him why every adult in his life had suddenly begun watching him like something precious about to break.I had no answer that would not have been a lie, so I rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezed once, and stepped back into the ring of watching adults.The circle had gathered at midday, elders and rank holders forming the outer ring as tradition demanded. The yard was scrubbed clean, the sand raked smooth, the sun hard and white overhead. Ronan stood near the eastern edge, where he could keep an eye on t
POV: WREN THORNE"You came back." I said it before I had decided to say anything at all.Ivy stood at the manor gates like a woman who had forgotten how to ask permission to come home. I had seen her before anyone announced her, a pale shape against the darkening tree line, travel-worn and thinner than I remembered from the mating ceremony months ago, when she had slipped away before the celebrations even finished and left nothing behind but questions. No one had managed to answer them since. My first instinct was relief. My second, closer to the truth, was suspicion.I stopped a careful distance from her, close enough to speak, far enough to watch her hands.Up close, the changes were worse. Her hair, once braided so neatly, hung in a tangled rope over one shoulder. Her cloak was too thin for the season, and a fresh scrape ran along her jaw where a branch had caught it. She looked like someone who had walked out of one life and not yet found the door to another. I wanted to reach for
POV: KADE ASHBORN"There were tracks," Ronan said, dropping a folded map onto the war table hard enough to rattle the candle stand beside it, "and they did not belong to anyone Maren has agreed to trust near her land."We had ridden back from the eastern treeline with almost nothing to show for an hour of searching: broken grass, a scuffed patch of bark, and half of a print pressed into soft mud. Whoever had watched Wren train was long gone by the time the guardian led us to the spot. The ride home had been quiet. Wren had said nothing at all, one hand on the ring, her eyes fixed on the road ahead as if it might try to escape her.Now the war room smelled of tallow and old ink and damp wool. My father sat at the head of the table wearing the particular stillness he saved for moments when he was working hard not to look as frightened as the rest of us felt."Show me," I said.Ronan spread the map flat. Torbin's careful ink was still there, but a second set of marks had joined it, Ronan







