My eyes are dry. There are no more tears left in me.
I lie curled on the bed, one arm wrapped around myself as though I could hold the pieces together. But everything I loved—my family, my name, my resolve—has shattered.
Gone.
I hug myself tighter. Even breathing hurts.
Saelow caused those deaths. And he promised more...
"Nyriane," Kaelen's voice murmurs beside me.
I hadn't even noticed him enter.
He kneels by the bed and gently brushes the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. He says nothing else, asks no questions. He simply eases me into his arms. My cheek rests against his shoulder, and my hand settles across his chest. He holds me without restraint, his fingers trailing gently through my hair.
The room fades, and before I know it, my eyes are closed.
---
I'm running through the palace garden, laughter spilling from my lips. Orin chases after me, his legs pumping fast but never quite catching up.
"You can't catch me, Orin!" five-year-old me shouts, triumphant.
"You're too fast!" he calls back, pretending defeat.
He'd grown stronger once he had food and medicine. He could play now, run like the other children. He even started training with the castle knights, hoping to earn an apprenticeship one day.
"Rayni!" my mother's voice rings out. "Come on, we need to leave!"
"But I want to play with Orin!" I plead, pouting.
"Insolent little cockroach!" a guard's bellow slices through the air.
We turn—Orin and I—and see a palace guard whipping someone in the courtyard. Orin grabs my hand, pulling me forward. We find Axel, Orin's father, on his knees. His shirt is torn, his skin bloodied. Beside him, Orin's mother sobs.
"Please, stop! We haven't stolen anything!" she cries.
"Lies!" the guard shouts, throwing a soiled kitchen cloth at her. The cloth I had used to bring Orin food. "You deny it even now? You're both accomplices!"
He turns the whip on her.
"No! Stop!" Orin lunges at him, knocking the guard backward. The man crashes to the ground, striking his head on the stone.
"You little bastard!" he roars, blood seeping from his scalp. "You attacked a servant of the Crown!"
"Mommy, make him stop," I beg, clinging to my mother's skirts. She holds me tight, eyes fixed ahead.
"What's going on here?" a cold, commanding voice asks.
My grandfather, King Elarion, approaches, flanked by knights.
"Your Majesty, they stole food from the kitchens and attacked me when caught."
"He's lying!" Orin cries.
"You dare raise your voice to your king?" The guard strikes him across the face.
"Take them to the gallows," Grandfather says flatly. "All three of them. And have a new gardener by week's end. I won't have the orchids wither."
Just like that, they're dragged away.
Because I stole the food, to give to Orin.
Suddenly we're in the town square, and my father is tying the strings of my cloak.
"I want to go back for Annabelle," I sob for my favorite doll. "I left her in my bed."
"We'll get her later, sunshine," he says, his voice tight as he avoids my eyes. "We have to leave now."
We're dressed as commoners. He told me and Saelow it was a game of pretend—not to tell anyone who we were.
We flee through the city. Chaos erupts around us. Fires rage. People scream. Blood stains the cobblestones. I watch a cart roll by—stacked with bodies.
Among them, I see Orin. His mother. His father.
---
I jolt awake with a scream, drenched in sweat.
"Nyriane." Kaelen's voice is soft. His hand is on my face. "You're safe. It was a nightmare."
I nod, unable to speak.
He hands me a glass of water. I take it with shaking hands and drink deeply.
"You were calling out a name," he says gently. "Orin?"
I nearly choke.
"Orin?"
"Yes. You kept whispering it."
"He was... a boy I knew. When I was little."
"Was?"
"He died. When the revolution began."
I don't tell him the rest. That it was my fault.
Kaelen studies me for a moment. Then he brushes the damp hair from my forehead and murmurs, "Try to sleep. It's still early."
"I don't think I can," I say, shaking my head.
"We have a long day ahead of us. It's better to rest," Kaelen says.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you. You should go ahead and sleep."
"Not more disturbing than your wife calling some other man's name in her sleep," he teases.
"Man? We were just children!" I fall silent at the thought. Orin was just a child—full of so many dreams and hopes. All gone because my grandfather couldn't be bothered to be a good ruler.
"Why?" he asks, his eyes intense on mine.
"Why did you lie to your brother?"
"You heard that?"
"By the end, everyone could hear it."
"When he told me he was behind the attacks... I just knew my conscience would never forgive me if I had supported him," I say, shaking my head. "Not after what I saw."
"Conscience?"
"Yes. That little inner voice," I say, placing a finger over his heart. "Here. Don't you hear them from time to time?"
"I do," he sighs. "I'm hearing them more of late, though."
"What do you mean? Had you silenced them before?"
"Not really. Before, it was simpler. Craven—however hardened and cruel—was always lenient with women and children. We were careful they weren't harmed, and once we took over a town or city, we helped rebuild it."
"He used to say, We are for the people. The people aren't for us," he recalls. "It's now that I feel at war with my inner voice. It's telling me to do things that might not be in my best interest... but won't leave me at peace if I don't."
"Like telling me to go back to Saelow and annul the marriage?"
"Something like that."
"You had confirmation he was behind the attack, didn't you?" I ask.
"Yes. He admitted it himself. Sent a raven—said this was just the beginning."
"Yet you kept it from me. Even as I begged you to let me talk to him."
"It didn't feel right to tell you."
"Damn these inner voices," I say with a chuckle—but there's little humor in it.
"Yes, damn them to he—"
Kaelen stops. He's heard something.
Voices. A sharp clang. Movement outside.
Kaelen's eyes narrow. "Stay here."
He grabs his sword and slips out of the tent.
I creep to the edge, peeking through the fabric. Steel clashes with steel. Shouts fill the air. I catch a glimpse of Kaelen fighting—quick, brutal, efficient. Then silence falls.
A few bodies lie on the ground.
Kaelen stands, streaked with blood.
"They attacked during the night," the general tells him. "We lost some men."
"Are any of them left?" Kaelen asks.
"No," one of his officers replies. "They're all dead."
Kaelen nods. "Good. We battle at dawn."