Chapter 1

Chapter One

The Prince of the Enemy

The fortress of Veyr had been built for a war that everyone claimed was over and nobody truly believed had ended.

It rose from the northern cliffs in layers of black stone, its towers disappearing into a sky the colour of tarnished silver. Snow gathered along the battlements and melted into thin streams against the ancient walls, while the banners of the two kingdoms hung from opposite sides of the great gate, deliberately separated despite the treaty that had brought their representatives here.

The Ardent banner carried a golden sun on a field of midnight blue.

The Veyne standard was crimson, marked with a silver crescent.

Elara had always thought the banners looked less like symbols of peace and more like two weapons forced to stand beside each other.

She had been seven years old when she first learned what the banners meant.

She remembered the fire before she remembered the bodies.

Her father's hand had been wrapped around hers as they ran through the palace corridors, and her mother's voice had followed them from somewhere behind, telling them not to stop. There had been smoke everywhere, thick enough to turn the chandeliers into blurred golden halos, while soldiers shouted in the courtyard below.

Then her father's hand had disappeared.

Elara had never forgotten the sensation of it slipping from hers.

She had never seen him alive again.

Her mother had vanished that same night.

For years, Elara had been told that Queen Amara Veyne had escaped the palace and been captured by Ardent soldiers beyond the southern gate. No body had ever been found. No grave had ever been built. There had only been rumours, conflicting reports and one bloodstained piece of fabric discovered three days later.

Elara had spent seventeen years wondering whether her mother had died that night or had somehow survived.

That uncertainty had shaped her more than grief ever could.

Because grief had an ending.

Hope did not.

She had spent half her life searching for answers, and every answer had eventually led back to the same family.

Ardent.

So when the gates of Veyr opened and Elara saw Prince Cassian Ardent waiting at the top of the fortress steps, she expected to feel hatred.

She did.

At least, she told herself she did.

What she hadn't expected was for him to be so annoyingly difficult to hate on sight.

Cassian was dressed in black from collar to boots, with fine silver embroidery tracing the edges of his military coat. His dark hair was thick and slightly disordered by the northern wind, falling across his forehead in a way that suggested he had either stopped caring about appearances or had never cared very much to begin with. His features were striking rather than delicate: a strong jaw, a straight nose, dark brows, and pale grey eyes that seemed almost silver beneath the winter light.

There was a thin black tattoo along the side of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. It looked almost like a branch or a line of strange writing, although she couldn't make out the shape from the courtyard.

Elara noticed it before she could stop herself.

Then she noticed that he was looking directly at her.

Her attention shifted immediately.

She was still sitting astride her horse, wrapped in a dark travelling cloak that concealed most of her clothes. Her dark hair had escaped from its braid during the journey, and several waves now framed her face. The cold had brought colour into her warm brown skin, making the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks more visible than usual.

Near her shoulder, partially hidden beneath the cloak, was a small tattoo.

A crescent embracing a tiny sun.

She had received it when she was seven.

The night her parents disappeared.

She had never been told why.

Her mother had been the one who placed it there.

That was all Elara knew.

Cassian's gaze paused there for the briefest moment.

Then he looked away.

Elara dismounted.

“Princess Veyne.”

His voice was lower than she'd imagined.

“Prince Ardent.”

Neither of them smiled.

A silence stretched between them while the guards stood pretending not to listen.

Cassian's eyes moved over her travelling clothes, the dagger at her thigh, and finally returned to her face.

“You're late.”

Elara handed the reins to a waiting stable boy.

“I wasn't aware you were waiting.”

“I wasn't.”

“Then you should be pleased.”

“I would be, if I hadn't been standing here for twenty minutes.”

She looked at him.

“That sounds remarkably similar to waiting.”

One of the guards lowered his head, clearly hiding a smile.

Cassian's expression barely changed, but something amused flickered in his eyes.

“You're exactly as unpleasant as they said.”

“And you're exactly as charming as I was warned.”

That earned her the smallest curve of his mouth.

It disappeared almost immediately.

“Welcome to Veyr.”

“I've been here before.”

“Then you know where the exits are.”

Elara glanced toward the enormous gates behind him.

“Should I need them?”

His expression became colder.

“That depends on whether the fortress remains as safe as it was yesterday.”

The words were quiet enough that only she heard them.

Elara studied him.

“What happened yesterday?”

Before Cassian could answer, a bell rang somewhere high above them.

Not the ordinary bell announcing a visitor.

Three sharp strikes.

Every guard in the courtyard immediately straightened.

Cassian turned toward the western tower.

The entire atmosphere of the fortress changed.

“What was that?” Elara asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“That is usually what people say immediately before I have something to worry about.”

Cassian ignored her.

He spoke to the nearest captain in a low voice, and the man immediately ran toward the inner gate.

Elara watched the soldiers move.

There were too many of them.

Not ceremonial guards, either. These men carried drawn weapons, and several wore the dark leather armour reserved for the fortress's internal security.

She looked back at Cassian.

“You were going to tell me what happened.”

His eyes met hers.

“Last night, someone got inside.”

“Inside the fortress?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“We don't know.”

“Then how do you know they were here?”

Cassian glanced toward the western tower.

“Because they left blood on the wall.”

The casualness of the answer disappeared.

Elara's gaze followed his.

The western tower stood several hundred yards away, its highest windows black against the pale sky.

“What happened to them?”

“They escaped.”

“And nobody saw them?”

“Someone did.”

His voice lowered.

“One of the sentries was found dead shortly before dawn.”

Elara looked at the guards surrounding them.

“Was the sentry attacked?”

Cassian hesitated.

“No.”

That answer disturbed her more than the first.

“What killed him?”

“We don't know.”

Before Elara could ask anything else, another bell rang.

This time, the sound was followed by shouting.

A guard came running through the inner gate.

“Your Highness!”

Cassian turned.

The man's face had gone pale.

“We found something in the western passage.”

“What?”

The guard looked toward Elara.

Cassian noticed.

“So?”

The guard swallowed.

“A message.”

“What does it say?”

“It says—”

He stopped.

“Your Highness, I think you should see it yourself.”

Cassian's expression hardened.

He looked at Elara.

“You'll be escorted to your quarters.”

“I'll come with you.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Elara's eyebrows rose.

“You're going to have to do better than that.”

“Princess.”

“Prince.”

The guard looked increasingly uncomfortable.

Cassian stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“Someone entered this fortress without being detected, killed one of our sentries, and left a message specifically for someone inside these walls. Until I know who they were targeting, I don't want you anywhere near the western passage.”

Elara held his gaze.

“You're assuming the message is about me.”

“No.”

“Then why are you so concerned?”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Because you're one of the two people in this fortress important enough to be worth killing.”

The answer silenced her.

“The other?” she asked.

“Myself.”

For a moment, neither of them had anything to say.

Elara looked toward the western tower.

She had spent seventeen years wondering what had happened to her mother.

If someone in this fortress knew something about that night, she wasn't going to let a security order keep her away from it.

“I'll go with you.”

His expression sharpened.

“I just told you—”

“I heard you.”

She walked past him.

“If someone has gone to the trouble of leaving a message in this fortress while both our kingdoms are gathered here, I would prefer to know what it says.”

Cassian caught her wrist.

The contact was brief, but deliberate.

Elara looked down at his hand.

Then at him.

His fingers released her almost immediately.

“Don't make this difficult.”

“You seem to have mistaken me for someone who enjoys being told what to do.”

“I haven't mistaken you for anything.”

Their eyes remained locked for a moment before Cassian stepped aside.

“Fine.”

Elara walked with him.

---

The western passage smelled of smoke.

That was the first thing Elara noticed.

The second was the blood.

It had dried dark against the stone floor near the base of the tower, where two guards stood over the body of the dead sentry. He had been young, perhaps no older than twenty-five, and his expression was strangely peaceful for someone who had died violently.

Elara stopped.

“What killed him?”

Cassian crouched beside the body.

“Look at his neck.”

She did.

There were no cuts.

No bruises.

Instead, a thin black line ran beneath the man's skin, branching from his throat toward his jaw like ink spreading through water.

Elara's stomach tightened.

“Magic.”

Cassian nodded.

“Forbidden magic.”

A guard handed him a folded piece of parchment.

Cassian opened it.

His expression changed.

Elara stepped closer.

“What does it say?”

He didn't answer.

“Cassian.”

It was the first time she had used his name.

His eyes lifted.

Something flickered across his face before he handed her the paper.

There were only six words written across it.

THE WAR WAS NEVER WHAT YOU WERE TOLD.

Elara read them twice.

Then a third time.

Her fingers tightened around the parchment.

Cassian watched her carefully.

“You knew?” he asked.

“No.”

“You're sure?”

She looked at him sharply.

“Why would I know?”

“Because whoever wrote this expected someone to understand it.”

“Perhaps they expected you to.”

“Perhaps.”

Elara looked back at the message.

Then she saw the symbol beneath it.

Her heart stopped.

A crescent.

Embracing a tiny sun.

The same symbol her mother had tattooed onto her skin the night she disappeared.

For seventeen years, Elara had searched for that symbol in old books, family records and the surviving correspondence of her parents. She had found nothing.

Now it was sitting on a piece of parchment inside an enemy fortress.

Her fingers began to shake.

Cassian noticed.

“What is it?”

She couldn't answer.

He followed her gaze.

His eyes moved from the symbol to the small tattoo near her shoulder.

His expression changed.

“You have that mark.”

Elara closed her cloak.

“Don't.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I said don't.”

“Veyne.”

She looked at him.

“My mother gave it to me.”

The words came out quieter than she intended.

Cassian stared at her.

“Your mother?”

“On the night she disappeared.”

Something shifted in his expression.

For the first time since they had met, he wasn't looking at her as an enemy.

He was looking at her as though she had just handed him a piece of a puzzle he hadn't known he was solving.

“You think this is connected to her.”

Elara looked down at the parchment.

“I think someone wants me to.”

Before he could answer, footsteps echoed through the passage.

Lord Halbrecht appeared with several council members behind him.

His expression hardened when he saw the parchment in Elara's hand.

“Put that away.”

Elara stared at him.

“Why?”

“Because this matter will be dealt with by the council.”

Cassian stood.

“Then perhaps the council should explain why someone has been killing our guards and leaving messages about the war.”

Halbrecht's jaw tightened.

“The negotiations will proceed as planned.”

Elara looked at him.

“For seventeen years, I've been told my mother disappeared because the Ardent army took her.”

Nobody spoke.

She held up the parchment.

“Now I find the symbol she left me inside this fortress.”

Her voice remained steady, although her pulse was racing.

“Tell me why I shouldn't think someone here knows what happened to her.”

Halbrecht's expression gave nothing away.

“That is precisely why you should allow the council to handle this.”

Elara looked at Cassian.

He was watching Halbrecht now.

Not her.

And something about that made her uneasy.

Because Cassian seemed to be thinking the same thing she was.

Someone knew more than they were saying.

The council chamber was waiting for them.

The negotiations were supposed to begin.

But suddenly, Elara didn't care about the treaty.

She had spent seventeen years looking for her mother.

For the first time, she had found a piece of her.

She wasn't leaving Veyr without discovering who had put it there.