The knife whistled past my ear, so close I felt the air displacement against my skin. I didn't freeze this time. I dropped and rolled, exactly as Kael had taught me, coming up with my own blade ready.
"Better," Kael said from across the training room. "But you telegraphed your movement. In a real fight, I would have anticipated the roll and struck while you were vulnerable."
"In a real fight, you wouldn't be throwing knives at your wife," I shot back, breathing hard.
"In a real fight, the person throwing knives at you won't care that you're my wife. They'll aim to kill." He crossed the space between us, his movements fluid and controlled. "Again. This time, don't think. Just react."
We'd been training for two hours, and every muscle in my body screamed protest. But I couldn't stop. Not when Daemon's agents were watching, waiting for weakness. Not when the Council of Lords was only three weeks away now.
Three weeks until Daemon would make his move. Three weeks to dismantle his conspiracy and prepare our defenses. Three weeks that felt simultaneously too long and not nearly long enough.
"Elara, focus," Kael's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Where did you just go?"
"I'm here."
"No, you're not. You're thinking about timelines and conspiracies instead of the knife I'm about to throw at you." He moved back to his starting position. "Clear your mind. Be present. Or this training is pointless."
He was right, damn him. I forced myself to breathe deeply, to center myself the way he'd taught me. To see only the training room, only Kael, only the weapon in his hand.
"Ready?"
I nodded. This time when he threw, I was ready. I moved before my conscious mind registered the motion, muscle memory taking over. The blade passed harmlessly by as I shifted, and I was already moving forward, closing the distance before he could draw another weapon.
My practice knife touched his throat. "Dead."
"Much better." He smiled, and I felt an absurd surge of pride at his approval. "You're learning. Another month of this and you'll be genuinely dangerous."
"We don't have another month. We have three weeks."
His smile faded. "I know. Which is why we need to accelerate your training and hope it's enough."
The door opened, and Mira stepped inside, her face pale. "Princess, you need to come quickly. There's been an incident."
My stomach dropped. "What kind of incident?"
"One of the servants we flagged as suspicious? The one who serves Lord Ashford?" Mira's voice shook slightly. "She's dead. Suicide, they're saying. Hung herself in her chambers."
Kael and I exchanged glances. We both knew what this really meant.
"Daemon is cleaning the house," I said. "Eliminating anyone who might talk if captured."
"Or eliminating anyone who failed him," Kael added grimly. "If Ashford's servant was reporting to Daemon and we caught her surveillance, that's a failure. Daemon doesn't tolerate failure."
We hurried through the castle toward the servants' quarters, Mira leading the way. A small crowd had gathered outside one of the rooms, guards keeping people back while someone inside investigated the scene.
Captain Thorne saw us approaching and immediately came over. "Your Highness, Princess. This isn't something you need to see."
"Was it really suicide?" I asked quietly.
His expression was enough. "The positioning is wrong. The bruising on her neck suggests she was strangled first, then hung to make it look self-inflicted. This was murder."
"Let me see," Kael said.
"Your Highness, I don't think—"
"Captain, let me see the body." Kael's voice carried a command that couldn't be refused.
Reluctantly, Captain Thorne led us inside. The servant—I remembered her name was Emma, barely twenty years old—hung from a beam, her face discolored, her eyes open and staring. It was the first dead body I'd seen up close, and it took everything in me not to be sick.
Kael examined her carefully, not touching but looking closely at her hands, her clothing, the rope around her neck. "She fought. Look at the defensive wounds on her arms, the torn fingernails. She knew her killer and she fought back."
"Can you tell who did it?" I forced myself to look, to learn, to not turn away from the ugly reality of what we were facing.
"No. But I can tell you this wasn't spontaneous. This was planned and executed by someone skilled. Someone who knew how to stage a suicide convincingly enough to fool casual examination." He straightened, his face hard. "Someone trained in assassination."
The implications were chilling. Daemon didn't just have agents and spies in the castle. He had actual trained killers, people who could murder and walk away without leaving evidence.
"Search her room," Kael ordered. "Everything. If she was reporting to Daemon, there might be correspondence, codes, something that tells us how the network operates."
Guards moved to comply while Captain Thorne pulled us aside. "Your Highness, we've now had three murders in this castle in less than two weeks. Lady Morgana, two servants after the warning message, and now this girl. People are frightened. They're starting to think the castle itself is cursed."
"Let them think that," I said, forming an idea. "Let the rumors spread. Fear might actually work in our favor."
"How?" Kael asked.
"Because frightened people are careful people. They watch their surroundings, they report suspicious behavior, they avoid being alone in vulnerable positions. And frightened conspirators make mistakes." I looked at Captain Thorne. "Can you quietly spread word that these murders might be connected to old castle hauntings? Some ghost story that sounds plausible?"
"I can do that. But what's the real goal?"
"The real goal is to make Daemon's agents nervous. To make them wonder if they're next on his list for elimination. Nervous agents are careless agents. They'll make contact with each other for reassurance, they'll break protocol, and when they do, we'll be watching."
Kael studied me with something like admiration. "That's actually brilliant. Manipulative and somewhat cruel, but brilliant."
"I learned from the best. My father used fear as a tool to control my entire life. Time to turn those lessons to a better purpose."
We left the servants' quarters and headed back toward our chambers, but Kael steered us away from the main corridors. "We need to talk privately. Really privately. Follow me."
He led me through a series of increasingly narrow passages until we reached what looked like a blank wall. But when he pressed a specific stone, a section swung inward, revealing darkness beyond.
"The secret passages you mentioned," I said.
"This particular one leads to a room that was used for private meetings by the old families, before the Purge. Almost no one remembers it exists." He produced a small magical light—one of the minor enchantments he could create—and led me inside.
The passage opened into a small chamber carved from stone, furnished with old chairs and a table covered in dust. It looked like no one had been here in decades.
"We can speak freely here," Kael said, closing the entrance behind us. "No servants, no magical surveillance, no one listening."
"You're certain?"
"As certain as I can be about anything in this castle." He sat heavily in one of the chairs, and I noticed for the first time how tired he looked. "Elara, we need to talk about what happens if this goes wrong. If Daemon succeeds."
"We've been over this. We'll stop him. We have three weeks to prepare—"
"And if three weeks isn't enough? If despite everything we do, he still manages to kill my father and seize power?" Kael leaned forward, his gray eyes intense. "You're not from Shadowmere. You're not tied to this kingdom beyond our marriage. If things go badly, you could escape. Return to Eldoria. Claim you were a hostage, that I forced you into marriage. Your father would take you back, find you a new husband, let you live."
I stared at him, not quite believing what I was hearing. "You want me to run? To abandon you if things get difficult?"
"I want you to survive. That's all I've ever wanted." His voice cracked slightly. "I've watched people die because of me, because of my curse, because of who my family is. I don't want to watch you die too."
"Then don't watch. Fight beside me instead." I moved to kneel in front of him, taking his hands. "Kael, I know you're trying to protect me. I understand the instinct. But I'm not leaving. I'm not running back to Eldoria to become some other man's property. I'm staying here, with you, whatever happens."
"Even if it means dying?"
"Even then. Better to die fighting for something I believe in than live as a cage bird again." I squeezed his hands. "Besides, we're not going to die. We're going to win."
"You sound very certain."
"One of us has to be." I stood, pulling him up with me. "Now come on. We have work to do and very little time to do it. Self-pity is a luxury we can't afford."
He laughed despite the grimness of our situation. "When did you become so ruthlessly practical?"
"Around the same time I married a cursed prince and people started trying to kill me." I kissed him quickly, tasting worry and determination on his lips. "Now, what did you really bring me here to discuss? Because I don't believe it was just to convince me to run away."
His expression shifted, became more guarded. "Elena sent a message. She's discovered something in Morgana's journal that she didn't notice before. Something that changes everything."
"What?"
"Morgana suspected that Daemon wasn't working alone at the highest levels. That someone in the immediate royal family—not just someone with access, but someone with direct bloodline—was actively helping him."
I felt cold. "Your father?"
"Or my brothers. Morgana couldn't determine which. But she was certain that Daemon had a collaborator within the direct line of succession." Kael's jaw clenched. "Which means I can't trust any of them. Not Father, not Darian, not even Theron who's supposedly been helping us."
"Theron's been useful. He's provided information, warned us about threats—"
"All of which could be calculated to gain our trust so he can betray us at the crucial moment." Kael paced the small chamber. "Or it could be genuine, and Darian is the traitor. Or both twins are working together. Or it's my father and all three of us sons are being manipulated."
"This is impossible. We can't investigate everyone simultaneously while also preparing for Daemon's attack."
"I know. Which is why we need to force a crisis. Make the traitor reveal themselves."
I didn't like the sound of that. "What kind of crisis?"
"We fake my death."
The words hung in the air between us, absolutely insane and yet somehow making terrible sense.
"Explain," I said carefully.
"We stage an accident. Maybe during training, maybe a poisoning attempt, something that looks like Daemon's agents finally succeeded in killing me. You react appropriately—grief, rage, all of it genuine because even though you know it's fake, everyone else will believe it's real." He spoke quickly now, the plan clearly already formed in his mind. "Then we watch. Watch how Father reacts. Watch what Darian and Theron do. Watch who contacts Daemon to report my death and what instructions they receive back."
"That's incredibly dangerous. If Daemon believes you're dead, he might accelerate his plans. Attack before we're ready."
"Or he might become overconfident and careless. Might reveal more of his network than he otherwise would." Kael stopped pacing, facing me directly. "I know it's a risk. But we're running out of time and we need to know who we can trust. This is the fastest way to get that information."
"And if something goes wrong? If the fake death becomes real?"
"Then you'll continue without me. You, Elena, Captain Thorne, the loyal guards—you'll stop Daemon's coup and protect the kingdom."
"Absolutely not. If we're doing this insane plan, we're doing it together. I'll be there to pull you out if things go wrong." I held up my hand before he could argue. "Non-negotiable. We're partners, remember? That means I don't sit safely on the sidelines while you take all the risks."
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Partners. All right. But we need to plan this carefully. Every detail has to be perfect or we'll tip our hand."
We spent the next hour working through possibilities. How to stage the death convincingly. Who needed to believe it was real versus who could know the truth. How to monitor the reactions and what signs to look for that would reveal the traitor.
It was risky and complicated and a dozen things could go wrong. But it was also our best chance to identify Daemon's collaborators before the Council of Lords.
"When?" I asked finally.
"Soon. Within the next few days. The longer we wait, the more time we give Daemon to make his move." Kael pulled me close, and I felt his heart beating fast against my cheek. "I'm sorry. I know this is terrifying."
"Everything about this situation is terrifying. At least this way we're doing something active instead of just waiting for Daemon to strike." I pulled back to look at his face. "But Kael, promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise me that if this goes wrong, if you're actually in danger, you'll fight to survive. You won't just accept death because you think it'll protect me. I need you alive."
"I promise. And Elara? Thank you."
"For what?"
"For staying. For fighting. For being exactly what I needed even though I didn't know I needed it." He kissed my forehead. "Whatever happens, I'm grateful you're here."
"Save the sentimentality for after we survive this." I tried to sound light, but my voice shook. "Come on. We have a fake death to plan."
We returned through the secret passage to the main castle, both of us hyperaware of every person we passed, every shadow that seemed too dark. Somewhere in these stone walls was a traitor who'd been working with Daemon for who knew how long. Soon, we'd force them to reveal themselves.
And then the real battle would begin.
We reached our chambers to find Mira waiting, her face pale. "My Lady, there's news. Another body was found. In the gardens this time."
My chest tightened. "Who?"
"One of Prince Theron's personal guards. Killed the same way as the servant girl—strangled then staged to look like something else. This time they tried to make it look like he'd been attacked by an animal."
Kael swore viciously. "Daemon's moving faster than we thought. He's eliminating anyone who might be compromised or captured. Which means he's preparing for his end game."
"Or someone's trying to frame Daemon for murders they're committing," I pointed out. "This could be the traitor trying to cover their own actions."
"Either way, we're running out of time." Kael looked at me, and I saw the decision crystallize in his eyes. "Tomorrow. We stage my death tomorrow night. We don't have the luxury of waiting any longer."
Tomorrow. Less than twenty-four hours to prepare for the most dangerous gambit of our lives.
I nodded, trying to project confidence I didn't entirely feel. "Tomorrow then. Let's end this."