The owl cut through the morning sky like a white arrow.
It left behind the bridge of Tyrindel, the silver-leaf forests, the rivers gleaming beneath the sun. It flew over the capital's walls unnoticed by the guards, slipping between the castle towers before landing on a window in the servants' wing.
An elderly hand took the bird gently. Fingers stroked its feathers before untying the note from its leg with care.
The note was unfolded.
Read.
When the four moons kiss the heavens, footsteps will walk the old paths beneath the roots. The guardian of the stars returns, and he does not come alone.
The hand slipped the message into a pocket. One final stroke over the owl's plumage.
Then the bird took flight once more and vanished into the sky.
---
In another wing of the castle, Aria stood by the window of her chamber.
Morning sunlight poured through the glass. In the distance, the Great Tree rose into the heavens—immense, golden, like a silent god watching without interfering.
There was nothing to do.
Nothing to see.
Only wait.
The ferret slept in her lap. It was the only thing left from her old life. She scratched behind its ears. The small animal stretched, made a soft sound, and fell asleep again.
Aria envied that ability.
To sleep without dreaming.
Without remembering.
But she remembered everything.
Her father in the tower of Arkania, crooked glasses slipping down his nose, a book in each hand.
"Aria! The principle of magical interweaving! Runes don't overlap—they intertwine! Like a dance!"
She had been twelve. She understood none of it.
But she loved seeing him so happy.
Always clumsy.
Always brilliant.
Always her father.
Varkas, the first night they camped together. He had stayed awake on watch. She sat beside him. Neither spoke for a long while.
Then Varkas pointed at the stars.
"My tribe says every star is a warrior who died protecting someone."
Aria remembered the way he looked at the sky.
As though he searched for his children among the lights.
And Darian.
The beach.
The ship pulling away.
Darian lying in the sand while waves lapped against his boots. Vael curled against his chest.
She had watched him from the deck as he became smaller and smaller in the distance.
He never saw her.
But she never forgot that image.
Someone who refused to give up.
Someone who, even shattered, remained standing.
Aria clenched her fists against the fabric of the dress.
Damn this dress.
Damn this golden cage.
She never wanted them here.
Never wanted them risking themselves for her.
That was why she surrendered.
So they wouldn't suffer.
So they wouldn't be hurt.
And now what?
Were they walking directly into a trap?
Into death?
—Idiots —she whispered. —You're all idiots.
But she smiled.
Because she missed them.
Because she loved them.
Because despite everything, she felt important to someone.
The door opened.
Lord Aelthas entered without announcement.
Tall. Thin. Draped in dark robes and black velvet. Hair white as snow. A face sharp as a blade. Pale green eyes devoid of warmth.
Of love.
Of anything.
—Granddaughter.
—Grandfather.
Aria did not stand. She did not bow. She did not look away.
Aelthas walked toward the window with slow steps. He gazed toward the Great Tree as though Aria were merely another piece of furniture.
—Your fiancé arrives in four days. You will make yourself presentable. We would not want him thinking the elves of Eldoria are savages.
—I don't have a fiancé.
—You do. And you will marry him. For the good of the kingdom.
—For the good of your kingdom.
Aelthas turned toward her.
His pale green eyes locked onto hers.
—Your mother was just like you. Impulsive. Defiant. A disappointment. But at least she was pureblooded. You… —his gaze dripped with contempt— …you are living proof of her betrayal. A half-breed. A stain I tolerate only because, unfortunately, you are useful to me.
Aria felt her blood boil.
—Don't talk about my mother.
—Why not? She was my daughter. My blood. I raised her, educated her, gave her everything. And she repaid me by running away with a human. An archivist. A nobody. —His mouth twisted with disgust—. And now I am left dealing with her offspring. A mongrel who dares look at me with arrogance.
Aria stood.
—Watch your mouth when you speak about my mother.
—Or what?
The slap echoed through the room.
Aelthas froze.
His cheek reddened.
For the briefest instant, something appeared in his eyes that was not coldness.
Fury.
—Insolent half-breed.
His strike came fast.
Brutal.
The slap hit with twice the force. Aria crashed against the corner of the room. Her head struck the wall. The ferret shrieked and fled beneath the bed.
Aelthas leaned over her.
His voice became a venomous whisper.
—Do not ever touch me again. You remain alive only because you are nothing more than a tool for my plans. Your sole purpose is to marry and seal the alliance. Afterward… —He smiled faintly— …perhaps we can discuss your future. Assuming you still have one.
He straightened calmly, smoothing his robes with terrifying composure.
—In four days they will come to dress you. Do not embarrass me.
Then he left.
The door shut behind him.
The guards locked it.
Aria remained on the floor.
Her cheek burned. Blood trickled from her lip.
But she did not cry.
She would not give him that satisfaction.
—I'm going to kill you —she whispered. —Someday. I'm going to kill you.
The ferret emerged from beneath the bed. It approached cautiously and licked her hand.
Aria picked it up.
—I'm fine —she said softly. —I'm fine.
It wasn't true.
But it didn't matter.
---
Thalion entered an hour later carrying lunch.
As always.
As though nothing had happened.
—My lady.
Aria had moved onto the bed. Her lip remained swollen. Her cheek red.
Thalion placed the tray down.
He saw the marks.
His expression darkened.
—The king.
—Yes.
—What happened?
—I slapped him.
Thalion blinked.
—You… slapped him?
—Yes.
The faintest hint of a smile crossed the butler's lips.
Only for a moment.
Then it vanished.
—There is news. An owl arrived this morning. Your father. He's coming here. Four days. Through the ancient tunnels. And he is not alone. Three others are with him.
Aria's chest tightened.
Not only her father.
Darian.
Varkas.
Kára.
All of them.
—When?
—Four days. Through the old tunnels.
—They shouldn't come here. They'll risk everything. They'll get hurt.
—They know. And they came anyway.
—Idiots.
—They are. But they are your idiots.
Aria couldn't stop herself from smiling.
Her lip hurt.
Her cheek hurt.
But she smiled anyway.
—Thank you —she whispered at last.
—Do not thank me yet. The hardest part is still ahead.
—I know.
Thalion nodded. He picked up the tray.
—Rest. I will help however I can. But the rest depends on them. And on you.
He left the room.
The door closed again.
Aria remained alone.
She touched her swollen lip and looked toward the east.
Her father was out there.
Darian was out there.
Varkas and Kára too.
In four days, they would arrive.
She closed her eyes.
Imagined them crossing the forest.
Avoiding patrols.
Searching for the tunnels.
She imagined Darian with both swords on his back.
Varkas guarding the rear.
Her father deciphering ancient maps with crooked glasses.
—Not much longer —she whispered.