VIVIAN’s POV
The morning wind cuts sharp against my face as the horse gallops forward. The road blurs under the hooves, but I don’t feel alive enough to notice. I only feel cold.
Colder than I’ve ever been.
Captain Solomon rides beside me, his armor clinking faintly in rhythm. Neither of us speaks much. The silence feels safer than words ever could.
Dani’s face keeps appearing in my mind like an echo I can’t silence—his eyes, his voice, the warmth that now feels like betrayal. Each time it surfaces, I push it away harder, until the ache turns into numbness.
I tell myself this is better. That the woman who was foolish enough to trust a spy doesn’t deserve softness.
When the old ruins appear on the horizon, I straighten in my saddle. The fortress looks even more broken under daylight—like bones of a giant long dead. Solomon dismounts first, tying his reins to a half-crumbled column. I follow, dust clinging to my boots as we enter.
“Still standing,” he murmurs.
“Barely.”
We make our way down the familiar stairway into the underground chamber. The air is heavy, thick with the scent of wax and damp stone. King Darius sits where I last saw him—surrounded by maps, candles, and the weight of defeat.
When he looks up, the fatigue in his eyes tells me more than words ever could.
“Vivian,” he greets softly. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“There’s much to tell,” I answer, bowing my head.
“Then tell it.”
I step forward, reciting the week’s events like a soldier reporting from the front. The Queen’s latest meetings, her orders, her temper. How her courtiers now whisper about ruling without the King’s shadow at all.
I don't mention Dani's betrayal.
I can't force myself to.
“She’s gaining ground,” Solomon says grimly.
Darius nods once, his jaw tightening. “I know. The council is divided. Half believe I abandoned them; the other half are too frightened to act.”
He looks older than before. Wearier.
“She met Duke Rueld,” I add quietly. “Two days ago.”
That name changes everything. The King stiffens. Solomon’s eyes flick to him.
“What did she want with Rueld?” Darius asks.
“An alliance,” I say. “She laughed about it, as if victory were already hers. Rueld’s forces control nearly all of East Verloren. If she convinces him, it’s over.”
The King’s hand curls into a fist. “He owes me loyalty.”
“Loyalty fades faster than fear,” Solomon mutters.
Darius stands, pacing slowly. “Rueld is cautious. He’ll side with whoever seems stronger. If Arinelle’s army looks unstoppable, he’ll bend to her.”
“Then make him see that you’re stronger,” I say.
He stops, studying me with tired eyes. “And how would I do that from beneath the earth?”
The silence stretches, and I find myself saying what I shouldn’t. “Let me go to him.”
Solomon frowns. “Vivian—”
“I know his court,” I interrupt. “I know how he thinks. He respects reason more than rank. If I can speak to him directly, maybe I can turn him.”
Darius shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“So is doing nothing,” I answer. “If Rueld stays with her, you’ll lose before the battle even starts. But if he changes sides—if he even hesitates—Arinelle’s walls will crack.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You would go alone?”
“Yes.”
Solomon glances between us, uneasy. “You’ve already done more than enough. You’re not a soldier anymore.”
“Maybe not,” I say, voice tight. “But I remember how to fight when I have to.”
Darius exhales, rubbing his temple. “You remind me of my nephew. Stubborn, loyal, and far too brave for your own good.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Silence stretches for a moment, Darius thinking. I wonder what goes through his head.
“Where’s your nephew now? I’ve never heard of him,” I carefully ask as if cautious not to touch a sensitive topic.
The King frowns slightly.
“His name is Salazar. He volunteered to go undercover to the kingdom of Verdana when another wave of war conflicts flared up between them and Verloren. He's still there. Somewhere.”
I shiver at the thought of a royal person, nephew of the King of Verloren, staying somewhere deep in Verdana’s heart, hiding, seeking out information. I think of Lord Dani. They're pretty much in the same position, I guess. Should I feel just as bad about the king’s nephew? Or is it just the lies personally to me that make me feel that way towards Dani? But Salazar surely lies to people, too—that’s the point of being undercover.
I'm not sure I want to think about it now. Or ever.
Darius almost smiles after a long moment of silence. “Then it’s decided. You’ll go to Rueld. But if he refuses—if anything happens—you run. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Solomon doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue further.
***
When we leave the ruins, the sky is pale gray, the air heavy with the promise of rain. We mount our horses in silence, riding back toward the palace.
Halfway through the road, Solomon finally speaks. “You’ve been quiet. More than usual.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About someone?”
I stare ahead. “No.”
He sighs. “Vivian, I may wear armor, but I’m not blind.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He slows his horse slightly, watching me. “I saw what Lord Dani meant to you. Whatever he did, I’m sorry.”
I tighten my grip on the reins. “There’s nothing to say.”
“There’s always something to say,” he replies gently. “Especially when it hurts.”
“Not this time.”
He lets the matter drop, and I’m grateful for it. Still, his words linger long after we part at the palace gates.
***
By the time I reach Verloren, the sky finally breaks. Rain falls in slow, heavy drops that glisten on the stone steps. I stop my horse outside the gates, staring up at the towers glowing faintly behind the downpour.
I can’t make myself go inside.
The thought of passing him in the corridor, of hearing his voice again—it’s too much.
So instead, I turn left.
The temple stands quiet near the edge of the courtyard, its stained-glass windows glowing faintly from the candles within. I haven’t stepped inside in years. Faith was something I buried with my father, along with every illusion that someone might be listening above.
But tonight, I need silence more than pride.
Inside, the air smells of smoke and candle wax. The colored light from the windows paints the floor in red and gold.
No one else is here. I kneel slowly before the altar. My knees press into cold stone; my hands feel awkward clasped together. The words won’t come easily.
“I don’t even know how to start,” I whisper. My voice echoes, small, fragile. “It’s been… years. I didn’t come when my father died. I didn’t come when I was starving, or when the Queen used me like a pawn. But I’m here now, so if you’re listening…”
My throat tightens. “Help me do the right thing. Whatever that means.”
The rain hits the roof harder. The candle flame flickers, almost bowing.
I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. Faces flash in my mind—Darius, weary but determined. Solomon, steady as ever. And Dani… the one face I can’t stop seeing, no matter how much I try.
“I should hate him,” I say softly. “And maybe I do. But I also miss him. And that’s the worst part.”
My voice breaks, the confession slipping out like a wound reopening.
The silence that follows is long and merciless.
When I finally stand, I don’t feel peace. But I do feel steadier. I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, straighten my cloak, and walk out into the rain.
The storm soaks through my hair, my clothes, my skin. It feels like penance. Like starting over, even if I don’t know how.
Tomorrow, I’ll go to Duke Rueld. I’ll serve the King’s cause. I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.
But for tonight, I let the rain hide my tears. Because for the first time in years, I actually prayed. And I don’t know if I prayed for Verloren… or for him.