28. TESTING LOYALTIES

Kieran

“I don’t like it, Dorian,” I said, my voice low as I stared out across the forest, the air thick with silence that felt more ominous than any war drum.

“Something’s not right. Things... they’re not the way they ought to be.”

Dorian didn’t move at first, just shifted his weight, his arms crossed. “You’re talking about Lucian?”

“Of course I’m talking about Lucian,” I snapped, then sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“He’s too quiet. Too damn quiet. He should’ve attacked by now. He always strikes when the wind's still, when we least expect it. And yet—nothing.”

“That could mean he's backing off,” Dorian offered, though his tone made it sound like he didn’t believe it.

“Maybe he's reconsidering.”

I turned to him, sharp. “Lucian doesn’t reconsider. He plans. And when he’s silent, that’s when he’s the most dangerous. You know that.”

He held my gaze. “Then we wait. But we don’t let our guard down. We reinforce the borders. Patrols every few hours. Especially along the east ridge. That’s where he’ll come from, if he’s coming.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” I muttered, nodding. “If he’s going to make a move, it’ll be from the east. That line’s always been thin.”

Dorian hesitated, then shifted again, this time stepping closer. “I’ve been thinking,” he said slowly, “maybe it’s time we test loyalty.”

My eyes narrowed. “Test whose loyalty?”

“Vee.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Put her on the frontlines,” Dorian said, steady. “Give her command over a unit. Let her prove herself.”

“Are you out of your damn mind?” I turned fully to him now, voice rising. “You want to throw Vee into the jaws of Lucian’s warpath just to see if she’ll bleed for us?”

“She’s strong, Kieran,” he argued. “More than that, she’s unpredictable. Lucian doesn’t know how to read her. Hell, neither do we. That’s why it’s perfect. If she’s with us, she’ll fight. If she’s not—”

“If she’s not, she’ll die,” I cut in coldly. “Or worse, she’ll turn the whole unit against us. Do you even hear yourself?”

“She’s a variable,” Dorian pressed. “Right now, we don’t know what side she’s really on. This is the only way to find out. We put her in the fire, we see if she burns with us or walks through it untouched.”

I stared at him for a long moment, the silence between us stretching like a taut wire. “I don’t like using our people like bait.”

“And I don’t like not knowing who’s a threat inside our walls,” he snapped back. “I’m not saying I should sacrifice her. I’m saying give her a chance. Give her responsibility. If she’s loyal, she’ll rise. If not... at least we’ll know before Lucian gets here.”

I exhaled, long and slow, and turned back to the trees. “You’d better be right about her,” I murmured.

“Because if she turns on us out there, it won’t be just her blood soaking the soil.”

Dorian nodded. “Then let’s make sure we’re ready, no matter what.”

"I still think it’s reckless,” I said, arms crossed as I leaned against the edge of the window frame, my eyes on the dusk falling over the courtyard.

“We’re not in a position to parade around in polished shoes and gilded masks when Lucian’s shadow looms this close."

Dorian stood across from me, calm as ever, brushing invisible lint off his coat like we weren’t talking about walking straight into a lion’s den.

“Which is precisely why we should do it now. When the fire is close, you don’t curl up—you throw a feast and make the flames come to you.”

I gave him a sharp look. “You sound like you want a war.”

“I want clarity,” he said smoothly, stepping forward. “You think Lucian won’t come? Or that his spies won’t slither through our halls, waiting to whisper behind gilded fans and satin sleeves? Let them come. Let them think we’re too comfortable to notice.”

“And if someone slips poison into the wine while we’re too busy dancing?” I asked, brow raised.

“What then?”

“We’ll drink first,” he said, lips quivering. “And smile wider than the devil.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “This isn’t a joke, Dorian. A single misstep and they’ll bury us in this castle.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Kieran. There’s already whispers. About your silence. About the blood on the border. You want to stop it? Then flood them with noise. Let the vultures gather. If we’re watching them, they can’t tear at our throats unnoticed.”

I turned away from him, eyes narrowing as I stared at the growing darkness outside. The shadows were already gathering. Maybe they always had been.

“We’ll need every entrance guarded. Double the eyes on the main floor.”

“Done,” Dorian said instantly. “I’ve already spoken to Cassian. He’ll see to the rotation.”

“Good.” I exhaled slowly, then looked over my shoulder at him. “Tell the announcer. Broadcast it. Two days from now. Let every noble, snake, and schemer know they’re invited.”

Dorian gave a satisfied smile. “The serpent’s nest is only dangerous when you forget where you placed your foot.”

“And you’re confident I won’t?” I muttered.

“I’m confident,” he said, turning to leave, “that you’re too stubborn to fall.”

Later on, I was staring out the window of my chambers when I heard the soft knock. I didn’t need to ask who it was. I murmured.

“Come in,” without turning. Her scent hit me first, jasmine and moonflower. Then her voice, quiet but never timid.

“Kieran,” Selene said, stepping inside, closing the door behind her. “I heard something.”

I turned slightly, raising an eyebrow. “You usually do.”

“The ball,” she said, coming closer. “It’s in two days?”

I didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

She stood there for a second like she was trying to decide how far she could push me tonight. Then she took a breath and said it—what was really on her mind.

“Lucian’s already made his threat known. The stakes are rising every second. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

I finally turned to face her, my eyes locked onto hers. “Yes.”

Her brows drew together. “Kieran…”

“This is necessary,” I said, cutting her off gently. “I need to know.”

She shook her head slightly. “Know what? Who’s stupid enough to wear silk in a storm? Who’s brave enough to smile at you in a den full of wolves?”

I stepped closer, closing the space between us. “No,” I said, my voice lower. “Who’s truly with me. And who’s been lying to my face all this time.”

Her lips parted, then closed again. “You think this ball will show you that?”

“I don’t think,” I said. “I know.”

She stared at me, her voice softer now. “And if what you see... hurts you?”

I didn’t answer that. I didn’t have to.

She exhaled, frustrated, and stepped away. “You’re inviting danger into your home, Kieran. Lucian doesn’t make threats. He makes promises. You know that better than anyone.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“It’s not fear I’m worried about,” she snapped. “It’s your judgment.”

I blinked at that, just once, slowly. “My judgment is the reason we’re still breathing.”

She paused, biting down on the inside of her cheek. “Fine,” she said at last, tone sharp with resignation. “Host your grand spectacle. Dress the wolves in gold and music. Let them dance while blood simmers beneath their smiles.”

“I will,” I said simply.

And she turned, her voice colder now. “Then I hope you’re ready for the truths you claim to want.”

I watched her go, saying nothing, because in two days, I would finally see everyone for who they truly were. And so would she.