All Chapters of Chains Of The Heart: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The trail had gone cold three days ago.Silas stood at the edge of a frozen river, staring across at the distant mountains that marked the border between the kingdom and lands he had no authority to enter. The wind cut through his cloak like it wasn't even there, but he barely noticed. His focus was on the tracks—faint, nearly erased by fresh snow—that led to the river's edge and did not emerge on the other side.They had crossed.Emery—coward that he was—had somehow found passage into foreign territory. Which one, Silas couldn't say. The tracks were too degraded, the snow too relentless. But the direction was clear enough.Whoever had helped them knew the terrain. Knew how to disappear.

Silas and Lucian slipped out with the quiet efficiency of men who had been given direction and intended to follow it immediately. The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly the room felt much smaller.Much quieter.Damian stood on one side of the table, papers still scattered, the map Rowan had drawn lying fresh and ink-smudged between them. Rowan stood on the other, arms loosely at his sides, looking like he wasn't quite sure what to do now that the emergency had passed.Silence stretched.Not uncomfortable, exactly. Just... uncertain. Two people who had shared something profound in the dark, now standing in the light with no script for what came next.Damian cleared his throat."How did you know?" he a

The rider left the Cross estate at a pace that would have impressed even the most hardened courier.Nathan had chosen him carefully—a young man named Derrick, quick-witted and steady-handed, with a knowledge of the Mercer territory roads that bordered on obsessive. He carried Rowan's letter in an inner pocket, close to his chest, and he had been given exactly one instruction:Deliver it to Lord Cassian or Lord Alistair. No one else.Derrick intended to do exactly that.The Mercer estate rose out of the snow like a fortress carved from silver and memory.Derrick approached at a measured canter, not wanting to appear urgent enough to cause alarm, but not so slow that he'd freeze before reaching the gates. The guards spotted him from a distance—he could see them straightening, hands moving to weapon hilts with practiced ease.He reined in before the gate and held up empty hands."I come with a message," he called. "For Lord C

Rowan was going to lose his mind.It wasn't a dramatic declaration. It was a simple fact, settling into his bones like the cold he couldn't quite shake. He had been in this room—this perfectly comfortable, perfectly appointed, perfectly boring room—for what felt like an eternity. The fire crackled. The bed was soft. The food was adequate.And Rowan wanted to scream.He had never been good at sitting still. As a child, he'd driven his tutors to distraction with his constant movement, his endless questions, his need to know what was behind every door and around every corner. Alistair used to say that Rowan would climb a mountain just to see what was on the other side, even if there was nothing there.That hadn't changed.

The room was smaller than the one Emery had been given for the interrogation.Cozy, the servants called it. Intimate.Emery called it a cage.Lady Mira sat across from him, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long gone cold. She hadn't drunk any of it. Neither had he. They just... sat. Stared at each other. Tried to find words that didn't exist."He knows," Emery said finally.Mira's eyes flickered. "Who?""Kaelen. The prince. He knows I'm guilty." Emery rubbed his face with both hands. "He didn't say it outright, but he knows. They all know."Mira was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "What did he say?"Emery told he