The night had begun to swallow the woods when Virelda urged her horse forward, her cloak snapping behind her like a banner of shame. The others had sped toward the palace, laughing, but she had slipped away—heart hammering, breath ragged. Every thud of her horse's hooves was a reminder of the blood she had chosen not to stop, of the body she had left behind.
Her eyes darted to the ground. The faint scratches she had carved into the earth earlier glimmered in the half-light. She followed them with desperation, whispering broken prayers between her teeth.
The trees closed in, the air thick and damp, until she reached it.
The hole.
She leapt from her horse before it stopped, her feet stumbling on roots as she ran forward. Her hands clutched the edge of the pit.
There—
Aurora still lay within. Motionless. Her gown soaked dark with blood.
Virelda's knees buckled, a sob ripping through her throat. She jumped into the hole without hesitation, the earth caving beneath her boots.
"Aurora," she whispered, voice cracking as she lifted her head. "Aurora…"
Her trembling fingers brushed against cold skin. She bent lower, pressed her ear to Aurora's chest—
A faint beat. Slow. Struggling.
Virelda gasped. A tear streaked her cheek as she exhaled a shuddering relief. "You are alive. You are alive."
She tore off her cloak, wrapping it around the bleeding body, rocking her gently. Her voice broke into a litany of regret.
"I am sorry. I am so sorry. I should never have joined them. I should have stopped them. Please forgive me… please…"
She tried to lift her, muscles straining, knees slipping in the mud. Aurora's weight collapsed against her arms. She clawed her way up the side, but the dirt crumbled and dragged her back down. She tried again, desperate, fingers torn, but the hole held them prisoner.
At last she sank onto the ground, gathering Aurora's limp body into her lap. She stroked her hair, weeping openly.
"I was not raised like this," she sobbed, her voice breaking as she looked down at Aurora. "How did I become this?"
Her grip tightened, trembling. "Stay alive. Punish us… punish us all if you must. Just do not leave. Do not leave, Aurora."
Her voice broke into frantic whispers as she tapped Aurora's cheeks, forcing her eyes to flutter. "Stay awake. Please. Stay…"
The woods pressed in with silence.
Then—hooves. Distant but approaching.
Virelda's head snapped up. Panic twisted her face. She screamed, her voice tearing through the trees.
"Help! Help us! Please!"
The echo carried, sharp against the night.
But before any answer came, a shadow moved above. A pack of wolves, drawn by the scent of blood, their golden eyes glinting in the dark. They perched on the rim of the hole, lips curling back to bare sharp teeth.
Virelda lowered Aurora gently, her face pale. She grabbed a broken log from the dirt and held it out.
"Back!" she shouted, jabbing upward. "Go away!"
The beasts only growled, pacing, circling the edge.
Her hand went to her waist, pulling free a dagger, her knuckles white around it.
"Do you hear me? Go! Away!"
Her voice cracked into screams, but the wolves did not yield. One crouched, ready to leap.
Then—
A whistle pierced the air.
The arrow struck the wolf's side with a sickening thud. The beast yelped, staggered, and collapsed. The others fled.
Virelda froze, dagger shaking in her grip.
"Help!" she cried upward, frantic. "Whoever you are—help us!"
And then a voice answered. Deep. Shaken. Furious.
"Aurora!"
Virelda's blood turned to ice. That voice. That name.
Not soldiers. Not strangers.
The King.
Branches parted, and Aldric appeared above, his cloak billowing, his face rigid with horror. His eyes widened as he looked down into the pit. His breath caught when he saw the broken figure lying on the ground beside Virelda's feet.
He jumped down, landing hard, and rushed to Aurora's side. His hands hovered, then pressed against her, desperate to find warmth, life.
"By heavens…" His voice trembled. "Aurora."
He whipped toward Virelda, rage burning through grief.
"Explain yourself! Selene swore you were in your chambers—yet here you are! How long have you lied to me?"
Virelda could only shake, her lips parted, words failing. Tears streaked her dirt-smeared face.
Aldric's men gathered at the rim, their torches burning against the night. Ropes and arms were lowered. One by one, they hauled Virelda out, her gown stained with Aurora's blood.
Aldric lifted Aurora himself, cradling her against his chest. He climbed from the pit, his jaw set, eyes wild with fury and fear.
"Clear the path!" he barked.
They mounted swiftly. Aldric swung onto his horse, holding Aurora close, his voice a prayer now, ragged with desperation.
"Stay with me, Aurora. Do not leave me. Not now."
The hooves thundered back toward the palace, torchlight flashing through the dark. The King rode like a storm, every beat of his heart bound to hers—willing her to breathe, willing her to live.
-
The cell stank of damp straw and old iron. Torches guttered along the corridor, throwing crooked light across the bars.
Selene sat straight on the bench, back rigid, fingers steepled to stop the tremor. Evelyn paced, skirt brushing grit, breath coming too fast.
"This is not how we planned it," Evelyn hissed, voice fraying. "We were supposed to be in our chambers by now—telling Mother Ava—"
"Quiet." Selene did not look at her. "Panic is for servants. We stick to our story. A wolf. She strayed. We called for help." A thin smile cut across her face. "His Majesty will rage himself out and then listen. He always does."
Evelyn swallowed, eyes glinting in the torchlight. "And Virelda? Why would she vanish?"
"She is spineless," Selene muttered. "If she is hiding, it is because she is afraid of being questioned. She will keep to our plan—or choke on it."
Keys clattered down the corridor. Two jailers appeared and leaned wordlessly on their spears. Somewhere down the row, a woman sobbed.
Evelyn's pacing broke.
"This is but temporary," Selene said, more to herself than to Evelyn. "We will be released."
-
Hooves hammered the cobblestones like thunder.
The palace gates burst wide. Aldric rode in hard, cloak slashed with mud, arms cradling a white-haired figure gone dull with blood. Kael and a knot of soldiers streamed behind him, faces grim.
Ava was already crossing the forecourt, breath shallow, a hand to her chest. She stopped when she saw the red down her son's sleeves—saw the limp head, the hair matted dark, the welted skin.
"Your Majesty," she breathed, and then louder, laced with steel, "Clear the way! Physician! Now!"
Aurora's maids—Faye and Lira at the front—fell to their knees as the King dismounted, tears breaking from them like rain.
"My lady—oh—my lady!" They reached for her and stopped at the sight, strangled by fear.
"Move," Aldric snarled, already striding. "Kael!"
"Sire," Kael answered, sprinting ahead to throw open the doors.
Aldric carried Aurora through the gold-lit hall, every torch a flare in his narrowed eyes. He did not see the bowing servants, the lords who spilled out of side corridors; he saw only the blue-lipped mouth and the cloak that could not hold the blood.
Ava kept pace, giving orders like a general on the field.
"No one breathes of this beyond these walls. Double the guards. Close the gates. If a rumor leaves this palace, I will know the name attached to it."
In the Queen Mother's chamber, they laid Aurora on white linen that reddened at once. The royal physician skidded in, hair askew, chest heaving.
"Save her," Aldric said, the words flat and lethal.
The physician's hands were steady as he cut away fabric, revealing the webwork of bruises and the deep, ugly stab. "Get me the dark tonic," he ordered a maid. "Thread and needle. Spirits. Clean cloth—stacks of it."
Lira's hand flew to her mouth. Faye choked on a sob and forced herself to the basin, scrubbing, then returned with cloths she did not trust her shaking hands to hold.
Ava stood at Aurora's head, fingers laced with the girl's. "Breathe, child," she whispered, and her eyes flashed wet. "Breathe."
Aldric did not move from the foot of the bed. His jaw was stone; his knuckles, bone-white.
"Your Majesty," Kael said from the doorway, voice low. "The prisoners have been secured. The soldiers from the hunt, Queen Selene and Princess Evelyn."
Aldric's gaze did not flicker from the wound. "All of them. No visits. No messages. Not a word."
"Yes, sire."
"And Virelda?" Ava asked without turning.
Kael hesitated. "Brought in separately. She was… covered in blood. We placed her with the others."
Aldric's head snapped up, eyes burning. "Good. She will speak first."
-
The prison door scraped open again and a figure stumbled in between two guards.
Virelda.
Her face was ashen, hair torn loose, cloak saturated, hands rubbed raw. Blood crusted down her sleeves and at the hem of her gown. She looked very small without her poise.
Selene stood too fast, fingers clutching the bars. Evelyn stared, mouth parted.
"Where were you?" Selene demanded, voice a blade. "We returned together. Where did you go?" Her eyes darted, assessing, counting stains.
Virelda did not answer. Her lips pressed thin; her throat worked. Tears spilled, hot and humiliating. She kept her gaze on the floor.
"Answer me," Selene hissed. "Now."
"Put her there," a guard said, jerking his chin.
They shoved Virelda toward the opposite cell. She caught herself on the bars, breath hitching. Evelyn's voice—tight, too sweet—slipped through the corridor.
"You look… a mess, Virelda. Did the horse throw you?"
Silence. Virelda's hands shook on the iron. She shut her eyes. A sob escaped.
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Say it," she whispered, low enough for only the bars to hear. "Say where you went."
Virelda lifted her head at last. The torchlight caught the tear tracks and the clotted smear of blood along her jaw. She looked from Selene to Evelyn and then away, sick with herself.
"I," she began—and the word broke. She swallowed, shook her head, and sank onto the bench, face in her hands.
"Enough," the guard snapped, banging his spear on the stone. "No talking." He shot Selene a warning glance. "His Majesty will have questions soon enough. Save your tongues."
Selene let go of the bars. For the first time her mask slipped, just a fraction. Evelyn stared at Virelda's stained sleeves and went a shade paler.
Down the corridor, the keys turned again. The door clanged shut.
-
Upstairs, the physician bent over Aurora with needle and thread. "Hold her steady," he murmured.
Ava's fingers tightened around Aurora's palm; Lira braced the shoulder; Faye pressed clean cloth to the edges of the wound as instructed.
Aldric's voice came raw, almost a whisper. "If she fades—if she—" He stopped. The words were a cliff his throat refused to leap.
"She will not," Ava said, steady as a bell. "Not while I breathe."
The physician worked, sweat beading his brow. "The blade missed the worst of it," he said, more to keep them anchored than for comfort. "But she has lost too much blood. And the bruising—" He did not finish.
Aldric laid a hand lightly—reverently—at the edge of the blanket, so he would not touch the wound with fingers still stiff from the reins.
"Hear me," he said, voice barely sound. "Whatever opened hell upon you, I will close. I swear it."
Aurora did not answer. Her breath rasped—thin, stubborn—through lips gone pale.
Kael stood at the threshold, a sentinel. "Orders, sire?"
Aldric's eyes were winter. "Seal the kingdom. No one enters. No one leaves. Double the guard on the cells. Send for General Alric—he will sit in judgment with me."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And Kael," Ava said, not looking away from Aurora. "Send a rider to the chapel. Have them light the Skyfire. The whole kingdom will pray."
Kael bowed and vanished down the corridor.
For a moment the only sounds were needle through flesh, the quiver of a breath, the soft weeping of maids who refused to leave their lady.