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Chapter Three

Isaac

Lucien looked at me with sharp, silver eyes. “Who are you, really?” he asked again. His voice was quiet but strong, and it felt heavy on my chest.

The talking around us stopped. Everyone was watching us in the big hall.

My heart beat fast. I wanted to run away and hide in the shadows. But if I ran, it would mean death—and failure.

I forced my jaw to relax, lifted my chin, and gave a slow, calm smile.

“I guess people here don’t like secrets?” I said, my voice smooth but a little teasing. “My name is Medor Thornwell. I was kicked out by my family in the west. I’m here to find my place with the powerful Devereux family, where strength and smarts matter.”

Lucien’s eyes got smaller. I could see he wasn’t sure if he believed me.

For a moment, I thought I failed. But then his face changed a little—he wasn’t happy, but he was interested.

“Trust isn’t easy to get here,” he said, stepping closer. I wanted to step back but stayed still. “Especially from someone who’s so… unknown.”

“That’s fair,” I said softly, just so he could hear. “But I’m not a threat. Not to you.”

He smiled a little—but it wasn’t warm. “We’ll see, Medor Thornwell.”

Then he turned and walked back to the stage. The crowd moved apart for him like the sea.

The talking started again, quiet and nervous.

I let out a slow breath. I didn’t realize I was holding it. My hand touched the dagger under my coat. It felt normal. It reminded me why I was here.

“Careful, Thornwell,” someone said behind me. The voice was calm but had a mocking tone.

Marcus Voss was there, smiling like he knew something. “Don’t stand out too much. The wrong people might start asking questions.”

I looked at him, trying not to look nervous. “Isn’t that the whole point, Voss?”

Marcus laughed, a dark sound like night. “Yes, noticed. But not looked at too closely. Watch yourself, or someone might peel back that smile and see what’s really under it.” He walked away. His words felt like a warning.

The night of the blood moon came. The castle glowed red and strange.

The air was thick and tense.

The servants moved fast, heads down, getting ready for the ceremony.

The other fighters were all dressed nicely, some excited, some scared. They stood in the big yard where Elias Devereux sat on a stone throne. His skin was pale in the moonlight, and his dark eyes watched everyone coldly.

I joined the group, feeling nervous like a puppet on strings. The smell of old wine and candles mixed with something else—blood, sharp and heavy.

Lucien stood next to Elias, stiff and serious. When he saw me, his brow tightened. I looked away before we could stare too long.

Elias’s voice was loud and clear. “Tonight, we honor the blood moon with a test of loyalty, skill, and strength. Show us why you deserve to be with the Devereux.”

I swallowed hard. The first fighter stepped forward and showed off his power by moving shadows. The crowd whispered.

Another fighter came next. He showed his fangs and made a storm of dark energy swirl around him. It looked scary.

“Thornwell,” Elias called. Everyone turned to me. Some faces looked mean, some curious. I stepped forward slowly, feeling their eyes cut into me.

“Let’s see what the exile can do,” Marcus said quietly, so people near me could hear.

I ignored him and tried to calm down.

My training with the Brotherhood of the Silver Cross was hard—quiet moves, quick strikes, using my body and knife together. I pulled out my small dagger and spun it easily.

I took a deep breath and started. It wasn’t just about strength—it was like a careful, deadly dance.

I jumped up, twisted in the air, and landed low, my blade cutting the air softly.

Then I stood up and moved fast, acting like I was about to strike hard enough to break bone.

People gasped when I threw the dagger and hit a post behind me perfectly. The dull sound echoed. I stepped back, breathing hard, looking at Elias.

He leaned forward, eyes bright with interest. “Good for someone who is supposed to be exiled,” he said. His voice wasn’t nice, just thinking. Lucien looked at me too, his eyes hard to read.

Marcus’s face changed, and he stepped forward before I could leave. “Agility is one thing,” he said loud. “But can you fight for real?”

Before I answered, Marcus jumped at me fast. I stepped aside just in time. His claws cut the air where my head was. The crowd cheered and shouted as he came at me again, faster and angrier. I blocked, twisted, and fought back. It was like a rough dance.

“You’re hiding something, Thornwell,” Marcus said close to my ear. His strength pushed against mine. “And I will find it.”

I showed my teeth and whispered, “Go ahead and try.”

I broke free suddenly and pushed Marcus down onto the stones with a loud crash. He got up slowly, angry, but Elias stopped him with one word.

“Enough.” His voice was final. Marcus growled but bowed his head and stepped back. My heart beat hard, but I kept my face calm as I faced Elias again.

“Well done, Thornwell,” Elias said, smiling a little. “I want to see more.”

The crowd buzzed. As I moved back, Lucien stopped me. His eyes were sharp, his face hard.

“Exiled, huh?” he said quietly, sounding like he didn’t fully trust me. “You move like someone who’s been trained well, not like someone who was thrown away.”

“Survival teaches many things,” I said, feeling the tension between us. His stare made my skin itch.

“You interest me, Medor,” he said at last, stepping back. “But interest can be dangerous.”

“I know, Your Highness.”

His lips pressed tight before he turned away. But I saw doubt in his eyes.