INICIAR SESIÓN"Breathe with me. Just breathe." Darius's voice cut through the silver haze crowding Aurora's vision, steady and low, and she latched onto it like a rope thrown into deep water. She forced air into her lungs, forced her claws to still, and slowly, agonizingly, the glow beneath her skin dimmed back down to nothing. The candle beside the cot had gone out entirely, a thin curl of smoke still rising from the wick. A healer pushed through the door, took one look, and froze. "My lady, do you need to be restrained?" "No." Aurora's own voice startled her, steadier than she expected. "It's already passing." The healer didn't argue, though her eyes stayed fixed on Aurora's hands until the glow faded completely, and only then did she back out again, pulling the door shut behind her. "It stopped." Her voice came out thin, barely there. "Why did it stop this time?" "I don't know. Maybe because you fought it instead of letting it happen." Darius sheathed his blade, though his hand didn't leav
"Aurora." Darius said her name a third time before something in her finally cracked loose, the wary, watchful thing behind her eyes losing its grip one breath at a time. The claws retracted first, curling back into ordinary fingernails, and then the tension bled out of her shoulders, and then, all at once, the clearing came rushing back into focus, the cold, the blood, the four unconscious men, Darius standing exactly where he'd stopped the moment she'd told him not to come closer. He hadn't moved an inch in all that time, she realized. Hadn't tried to close the distance, hadn't raised his voice, hadn't done anything but stand there and say her name, patient in a way she'd rarely seen from him, letting her find her own way back instead of trying to pull her there by force. She'd expected him to push. He hadn't. That alone told her something about how carefully he'd been reading the danger in her stance the whole time she'd stood there deciding whether he was safe. "Darius." His nam
Silence came first. Then cold. Then the slow, disorienting realization that she was on her knees in frost-hardened grass with no memory of kneeling down. The moon had shifted position overhead, further along its arc than it should have been if only minutes had passed, and that small, cruel detail frightened her more than anything else so far. Time had simply gone missing, and she had no way to account for where it went. Aurora blinked hard, trying to force the world back into focus. Her hands didn't look right. She lifted them in front of her face and found her fingertips tipped in silver, claws where nails should have been, faint light pulsing beneath her skin like the last embers of a fire that had burned much hotter only moments ago. The last clear thing she remembered was the claws coming down. Everything after that lived in fragments only, a scream that hadn't sounded like hers, a strength that had moved through her body without asking her permission first. Then she saw the ro
The first rogue dropped from the branches before she'd even finished turning toward the sound. Aurora threw herself sideways on instinct, Thorne's training taking over before her mind had caught up to what was happening, and the claws that would have opened her throat raked across her shoulder instead, tearing fabric and skin both. Pain flared hot and immediate, and somewhere underneath it, a colder thought surfaced just as fast. She'd walked out here without a single guard, without telling anyone which direction she'd gone, because she'd wanted to be alone more than she'd wanted to be safe. She hit the ground hard, rolled, came up already reaching for the small blade she kept strapped to her thigh out of habit more than expectation. Three more shapes peeled away from the treeline around her, moving with the coordinated patience of hunters who'd already decided how this would end, spreading out to box her against the trunk at her back before she could think to run. "Four against on
Darius's jaw worked once before he finally spoke, and Aurora watched him choose his words the way a man chooses footing on ice, testing each one before he committed his full weight to it. "The Purge wasn't an accident. It was ordered, generations ago, by someone in my bloodline." His voice stayed level, controlled in a way that told her exactly how much effort the control was costing him. "Your mother survived it. That's the truth I have. I don't have all of it yet." Aurora searched his face, waiting for the rest, for the details that would make the vague shape of what he'd just said solid enough to actually hurt properly instead of just sitting there, heavy and unfinished, in the space between them. She'd expected names. Dates. Something with edges she could hold onto and examine, not this smoothed-over version that told her just enough to confirm her worst fear without giving her anywhere to put it. "That's it? That's everything?" "That's everything I'm certain of." "You're lyi
The corridor outside his father's study felt longer than it had any right to be. Darius walked it without seeing any of it, boots striking stone in a rhythm too even for how badly everything inside him had come apart, past torches and portraits and guards who straightened as he passed and said nothing, reading something in his face that made them wisely choose silence over greeting. Somewhere behind him, faintly, he heard the study door close, his father alone now with whatever was left of thirty years of carefully guarded silence. By this family. The words kept repeating themselves, louder each time, until they drowned out everything else he tried to think instead. His grandfather had given the order. His father hadn't simply inherited a secret already buried. He'd found Marianne alive, chosen silence over correcting the record, and carried that choice alone for thirty years, right up until tonight. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, a woman named Marianne had spent decades







