Rumors in the Blood Court were rarely harmless.
Most were cruel.
Some were absurd.
But this one felt like a blade sliding under the skin of the palace.
Ariaxa heard it first while carrying scrolls through the inner corridor. Two nobles huddled in a shadowed alcove, voices sharp and urgent.
“…Elyndor loyalists,” one whispered.
“In Vharon? That’s impossible.”
“Then explain the sightings near the outer gates. Explain the temple fires.”
“Sabotage. Nothing more.”
“Sabotage does not carve the Sun Crest into the cobblestones.”
Ariaxa’s breath caught.
The nobles continued, oblivious to her presence.
“If they get close enough to the Emperor’s newest pet—”
“She’s worth more than coin. A symbol. The last of the Solaris line.”
“A weapon.”
“A rallying point.”
“Or a corpse, if they feel she betrayed her kingdom by living under Draven rule.”
Ariaxa’s blood chilled.
Then one noble added quietly:
“I heard they plan to take her alive.”
Her pulse thudded so loudly she feared they’d hear it.
Alive.
Alive meant use.
Alive meant torture.
Alive meant parading her broken body through the ruins of her homeland as proof that Vharon’s empire could be challenged.
She backed away slowly, praying the stones beneath her feet wouldn’t betray her with sound. When she reached the safety of the corridor, she nearly collided with Tynia, the sharp-eyed harem girl who rarely spoke unless necessary.
Tynia steadied her. “You’re shaking.”
Ariaxa swallowed hard. “There are… rumors.”
“I know,” Tynia said quietly. “Everyone knows.”
Ariaxa’s voice broke. “Is it true?”
Tynia nodded once. “Yes.”
Ariaxa’s knees weakened. “Why would they come for me?”
“You’re the last Sun Princess. Loyalists would kill for the chance to put the Solaris symbol back on a throne. Or kill you for failing to die with your people.”
Ariaxa’s throat tightened. “I didn’t ask to survive.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Tynia whispered. “Symbols don’t get choices.”
Ariaxa stared at her hands — trembling, small, powerless. “Kaedan will protect me. He has to. I’m his slave.”
Tynia’s expression softened just enough to show pity.
“Slaves are replaceable,” she said. “Symbols are not.”
The words struck Ariaxa like a physical blow.
Tynia continued, lowering her voice. “Kaedan is furious, but not for you. He thinks someone in the court leaked information about where you sleep. He’s interrogating his generals. And nobles. And his own guards.”
Ariaxa shivered. “Does he think I—”
“No,” Tynia said immediately. “Not you. But if his enemies want to destabilize him?”
Ariaxa whispered the thought aloud. “They’d come through me.”
Tynia squeezed her arm. “Tonight, sleep near the wall. Not on the edge of the bed.”
“Why?”
Tynia glanced at the door before answering.
“Because the last time loyalists infiltrated the palace, they slit throats from behind pillows.”
Ariaxa’s breath shattered.
“Tynia—”
“I’m not trying to frighten you,” Tynia whispered. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Ariaxa believed her.
***
That evening, the palace’s atmosphere shifted.
Guards lined the corridors in doubled numbers. Steel whispered against steel. Riven stalked the halls like a silent storm, eyes cutting through every shadow. Even Mirel worked with trembling hands as she tended to injured harem members.
“They’re saying Kaedan executed three guards,” Mirel murmured, binding a wound with shaking fingers.
“Why?” Ariaxa whispered.
“For failing to report strange movements near the servant tunnels.”
Ariaxa felt a cold, choking terror rise beneath her skin.
If Kaedan suspected betrayal within his ranks…
He would burn the entire palace to find it.
And she would be the spark.
When supper ended, the tension only thickened. The slaves whispered in small clusters. Nobles looked over their shoulders. Even the lanterns flickered as if afraid of the dark pressing in around them.
Ariaxa stood in the corridor outside the harem wing, waiting for Mirel to lock the side door. Her nerves felt stretched, every sound too sharp.
Mirel brushed past her. “You should sleep. You look exhausted.”
Ariaxa tried to smile but failed. “Can’t.”
“Then pretend,” Mirel urged. “The worst thing you can do is look afraid. That invites predators.”
Ariaxa nodded, even though sleep felt like the most dangerous thing she could attempt.
When she returned to her bed, the dormitory felt strangely quiet. Too quiet. The other slaves already slept — or pretended to. The air smelled faintly of incense and something metallic.
She exhaled slowly.
Just get under the blanket. Rest. Pretend the world isn’t falling apart.
But as she lifted her pillow to adjust it,
something slid off the mattress and landed on the floor with a soft, wet sound.
Ariaxa froze.
She crouched slowly, fingers trembling as she reached down.
Her hand touched paper.
Damp.
Sticky.
When she lifted it into the lantern light, her stomach dropped violently.
It was a folded note.
The edges were soaked in blood.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
The writing was jagged, frantic, smeared in places as though the writer had been bleeding while carving the message onto the paper.
WE ARE COMING FOR YOU, SUN PRINCESS.
Ariaxa’s heart slammed painfully in her chest.
Someone had been in her room.
Someone had touched her bed.
Someone had been inches from her throat while she slept.
A shiver ran through her so violently she nearly dropped the note. She staggered backward, hitting the wall behind her.
Her voice broke in a whisper.
“No… no no no…”
A floorboard creaked.
She spun around, clutching the bloody note to her chest — breath trembling, eyes wide.
For a terrifying moment, she thought the loyalists had already come.
But it was Riven.
Standing in the doorway.
Watching her.
He took in her shaking form… the blood on her fingers… the note clutched in her hand.
His expression hardened into something lethal.
“Where did you get that?” he demanded.
Ariaxa tried to speak, but her throat closed.
Riven stepped into the room, eyes narrowing.
“Ariaxa.”
She managed to choke out, “Under my pillow.”
Riven’s face went still.
Not shocked.
Not surprised.
But furious in a way that made the air feel sharp.
He lowered his voice, dangerous and cold.
“Do not move,” he said. “Do not scream. Do not breathe loudly.”
“Why?” she whispered, tears burning at her eyes.
Riven’s jaw clenched.
“Because whoever left that note…”
He glanced toward the dark far corner of the dormitory.
“…may still be inside the palace.”