VIVIAN’s POV
Night folds over Verloren like a secret. I can’t breathe under it.
The palace sleeps, but my thoughts don’t. The echo of Arinelle’s laughter during the meeting with Duke Rueld still gnaws at me—those veiled words about King Darius, his “last resolve.” She’d spoken as if the man were already dead. As if she’d made it happen herself.
Before I can stop myself, I’m standing in front of Captain Solomon’s door, my fist pounding against the wood.
He opens after the third knock, hair tousled, sword half drawn. “Vivian? Saints, what—”
“We need to talk,” I cut him off, pushing past him before he can protest.
He closes the door quietly, eyes narrowing. “At this hour?”
“Yes. At this hour.”
He crosses his arms. “Then talk.”
I pace once, twice, before facing him. “At the meeting with Duke Rueld, the Queen said something about King Darius. About his resolve weakening.”
He says nothing.
“It wasn’t an accident,” I insist. “She wanted me to hear it. But what if it wasn’t mockery? What if—”
“—what if it was truth,” Solomon finishes softly.
My stomach turns. “You know something.”
He exhales through his nose. “You should’ve learned the truth by now.”
“What truth?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs his cloak and gestures toward the door. “Come. You’ll see.”
***
We ride into the darkness, the palace shrinking behind us. The night air bites against my face, cold and sharp. Neither of us speaks.
The road turns rougher the farther we go—gravel, broken cobblestone, then forest paths half swallowed by roots and vines. When the first shape of ruins appears on the horizon, my pulse stutters.
A fallen castle.
Its stones are cracked, the towers nothing more than jagged silhouettes against the faint light of dawn. Solomon dismounts, and I follow.
“What is this place?” I whisper.
“The old fortress of Darel,” he says quietly. “Destroyed decades ago. Now… it hides something worth more than all of Verloren.”
He pushes open a broken gate and leads me through the rubble. Inside, half-buried stairs descend into the ground.
I hesitate. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”
Solomon gives me a small, tired smile. “If I wanted to, I wouldn’t have brought two horses.”
I roll my eyes, though the tension in my chest refuses to ease.
We descend.
The air grows damp and heavy, the torchlight flickering against stone walls. When we finally reach the bottom, I see movement—a figure sitting at a wooden table surrounded by maps, letters, and candlelight.
A man looks up.
And my world tilts.
“Your Majesty,” Solomon says, bowing.
King Darius.
Alive.
He’s thinner than I remember, the years carved into his face, but his presence is the same—commanding, quiet, and impossibly steady.
“Vivian,” he says softly. “It’s been a long time.”
My knees nearly give out. “Your Majesty… I thought you were—”
“Dead?” His smile is faint. “That’s what my wife wants the world to think.”
I swallow hard. “Why? Why would she—”
“Because power changes people,” he says simply. “Arinelle’s ambition grew faster than her love. She convinced half the court I was unfit to rule. The rest… she bought.”
He leans forward, eyes shadowed. “Now, she sits on a throne meant for us both and calls it hers alone.”
My heart pounds. “So you’ve been hiding here.”
“Hiding?” He almost laughs. “Planning. Gathering the few I can still trust.” He glances at Solomon. “And now, you.”
“Me?”
“You’re her shadow,” Solomon says. “No one’s closer to her than you are.”
I step back instinctively. “If this is about spying—”
“It’s about truth,” Darius interrupts. “And about taking back what’s mine.”
I hesitate. “Why me?”
“Because,” Solomon answers, “you were a soldier once.”
The words sting. “I don’t like being reminded of that.”
“I know,” he says softly. “But the kingdom needs every skill you buried.”
I look between them—the weary captain, the fallen king. My pulse hammers so hard it hurts. “And if I refuse?”
Darius’s eyes meet mine. “Then you return to your palace, to your Queen, and watch her ruin Verloren from within.”
The silence stretches.
Finally, I speak. “What do you need from me?”
“Information,” Darius says. “Her alliances. Her schedule. Her next move. Whatever she whispers in private, I need to know it.”
“And you trust me with this?”
He studies me a moment longer, then nods. “I trust kindness, Vivian. And you’ve shown me enough.”
That undoes me more than it should.
“I’ll help,” I whisper.
Solomon exhales, relieved. “Then it begins.”
***
By the time we ride back, the horizon burns with the first blush of sunrise. My thoughts spin faster than the hooves against the road.
When I reach my chamber, exhaustion drapes over me like lead. I barely have time to sit before someone knocks on my door.
I freeze.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
Dani’s voice.
I consider pretending I’m asleep, but the knock comes again—gentler this time. Against my better judgment, I open the door.
He stands there in a loose shirt, hair messy from sleep—or lack thereof. His eyes look tired, but his smile is soft.
“May I?” he asks.
I nod mutely. He steps inside and sits beside me on the edge of the bed. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air feels too close, too fragile.
Then he says quietly, “I can’t keep pretending nothing’s there.”
My heart jumps. “Lord Dani—”
“I know you don’t trust easily,” he continues. “I know you keep people away because it’s safer that way. But I can’t hide it anymore.”
“Hide what?” I ask, though I already know.
He looks at me, and the answer is there in his eyes before he even speaks. “I care about you, Vivian. More than I should. More than I want to admit.”
I shake my head slowly. “You shouldn’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it complicates everything.”
“Maybe,” he says softly. “But I’d rather face complications than silence.”
I look down at my hands. “You don’t understand. I’ve spent years building walls. People only ever used what I gave them. I can’t—”
“You don’t have to,” he says, his voice low but firm. “You don’t have to give me anything you’re not ready to.”
There’s something painfully sincere in his tone—something that cracks me open.
“You don’t even know who I am,” I whisper.
“Maybe not. But I know what I see when I look at you.”
I meet his gaze then, and everything in me trembles. He’s too close. Too real. Too dangerous.
“Dani—”
Not “Lord Dani”. Just Dani.
He holds up a hand. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know.”
He starts to stand, but before he can, something in me breaks.
I reach for him, fingers curling around his wrist. His breath catches.
And then I kiss him.
This time, there’s no hesitation. No war.
Just the quiet surrender of two people who should have stayed apart—and didn’t.
And let the consequences of that choice come later.