LOGINThey left Blackthorn a week later, once Kael’s shoulder had healed enough for travel and Bertram’s condition had stabilized sufficiently for the old advisor to make the journey without undue risk. The farewell carried a different weight than previous departures, Bonita acutely aware that she was leaving her eldest daughter to manage not simply routine governance, but a genuine fracture within her own territory’s trust — one that no single address, however powerful, had fully resolved. “You’ll write,” Bonita said, holding Mira close at the settlement’s gate, “the moment anything changes. Anything at all, Mira, however small it seems, please.” “I will,” Mira promised. “Mama, I can handle this. I’ve handled everything else Blackthorn’s demanded of me for a decade now.” “I know you can,” Bonita said. “That doesn’t mean I won’t worry regardless.” Maren stood nearby, her own expression carrying quiet reassurance. “I’ll continue monitoring the situation closely,” she said. “Whatever dev
The days following Selene’s disappearance settled over the household like a shroud, grief and fury tangling together into something Bonita had no name for, something heavier than anything she’d carried even through the darkest days of her banishment. She barely slept. When she did, her dreams filled with Soren’s face, the particular watchfulness of his dark eyes, the small, determined way he’d gripped her finger the very first time she’d held him. She woke each morning to the same crushing weight of not knowing, the uncertainty gnawing at her more viciously than any confirmed horror could have, because at least confirmed horror offered an ending. This offered nothing but endless, aching absence. Kael searched relentlessly, sending scouts further and wider than before, questioning every trader and traveler who might have crossed paths with a masked woman and a small child in the weeks surrounding Soren’s disappearance. Corin and Ilsa returned to the journal with renewed desperation,
Three weeks after Soren’s disappearance, on a night that felt, in every ordinary way, indistinguishable from the ones surrounding it, Bonita woke to a sound that didn’t belong. She’d taken to sleeping lightly since the loss, some instinct refusing to let her rest fully even in the safety of her own bed, and the faint creak of a floorboard down the hall pulled her upright before she’d even fully registered why. “Kael,” she whispered, shaking him awake. He was alert instantly, years of instinct honed by danger snapping him into focus. “What is it?” “Something’s wrong. I heard—” She didn’t finish, already moving toward the door, Kael right behind her. They reached the nursery to find the door standing slightly ajar, and Bonita’s heart lurched violently at the sight of a figure bent over Kaden’s crib — small, cloaked, a plain mask covering the face entirely, one hand already reaching toward the sleeping child. “Get away from him!” Bonita screamed, and the figure startled, whirling t
The formal inquiry went out the following morning, carried by one of Kael’s most trusted riders, demanding a direct response within three days regarding any knowledge Blackthorn territory held about Soren’s disappearance. The response arrived faster than expected, two days later, Drogo’s own seal pressed into the wax with what felt, to Bonita, like deliberate mockery. Alpha Kael — I confess surprise at your accusation, given how little contact this territory has maintained with yours these past two years. I hold no knowledge of your missing son, nor any interest in acquiring one, given the considerable trouble your family has already proven capable of causing without my involvement. Perhaps you should look closer to your own household before casting suspicion so far beyond your borders. I understand you’ve extended hospitality to a woman I once called wife — a woman whose loyalty, I might remind you, proved considerably more flexible than either of us initially believed. — Drogo Ka
The following days blurred into a relentless, exhausting search that yielded nothing but growing despair. Kael’s scouts covered every mile of territory within reach, questioning travelers, checking every road and hidden path they could think to search. Corin and Ilsa poured over the journal again, searching desperately for anything that might explain how someone had bypassed the household’s defenses so completely, but found nothing that offered clear answers. “Whoever took him understood exactly what they were doing,” Corin admitted, exhaustion evident in every line of his face after the third sleepless night. “No trace, no evidence, nothing beyond the open window itself. That level of precision doesn’t happen by accident.” “Meaning what,” Kael asked, his own patience worn thin by days of fruitless searching. “Meaning I believe, more than ever, that Aldric’s warning was accurate,” Corin said grimly. “Someone close to this household was involved. I don’t see how an outside attacker
The next several minutes blurred into chaos — Bonita’s own scream tearing from her throat before she’d fully registered making the sound, Kael already moving toward the open window, shouting orders that brought guards running from every corner of the household. “Search the grounds! Every direction, now!” Kael’s voice carried an authority that cut through the rising panic, even as his own hands shook checking the window frame for any sign of how someone had breached it. “No claw marks. No forced entry. Whoever did this came and went without struggle.” Bonita clutched Kaden against her chest, the surviving twin startled awake by the commotion, his cries joining the chaos as she frantically checked him over for any sign of injury, finding none beyond simple distress at being woken so abruptly. “He’s unharmed,” she said, though her voice barely worked properly, terror for her missing son threatening to swallow every other thought entirely. “Kael, who could have done this? How did anyon







