SYLRA’S POV
“Caelan’s waking up.”
The doctor’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. All eyes turned to the bed where Caelan stirred, his eyelids fluttering. I pushed past Rovan and Alrik, ignoring their protests as I knelt beside him.
“Caelan,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Can you hear me?”
His eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, then sharpening as they found mine. Recognition flickered across his face, followed quickly by alarm. He tried to sit up, wincing as the movement pulled at his wound.
“Easy,” I warned, placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “You took an arrow meant for me, remember?”
“Not meant for you,” he rasped, his voice rough from disuse. “Meant for me.”
The room fell silent. Father stepped closer, his shadow falling across the bed.
“Explain yourself,” he demanded.
Caelan’s eyes darted around the room, widening when they landed on Rovan. “What’s he doing here?”
“Never mind him,” I snapped, impatience getting the better of me. “What do you mean the arrow was meant for you? Rovan says he heard your name among the assassins.”
Confusion flashed across Caelan’s face. “What? No, that’s not—” He broke off, coughing. The doctor hurried forward with water, helping him drink. When he could speak again, his eyes were clearer, his voice stronger. “I was assigned to you, Sylra. As an advisor.”
“Assigned?” I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “By whom?”
“The Council,” he admitted, shame coloring his words. “They wanted someone close to you, someone who could report back on your… stability.”
The truth hit like a physical blow. All those conversations, those quiet moments when I’d thought he was the one person who saw me as just Sylra—had it all been a lie?
“So you were spying on me.” My voice came out flat, emotionless, though inside I was screaming.
“At first,” he confessed, meeting my gaze steadily. “But things changed. I changed. I started refusing to tell them certain things. Started feeding them half-truths instead of full reports.”
“Why should we believe anything you say?” Rovan interjected, moving to stand beside me. His presence was like a furnace at my back, familiar and foreign all at once.
Caelan’s eyes hardened as he looked at Rovan. “Because unlike some, I didn’t abandon her when things got difficult.”
The barb found its mark. I felt Rovan stiffen beside me.
“That doesn’t explain why someone tried to kill you,” Father cut in, his patience clearly wearing thin.
Caelan sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. “When I stopped being useful, I became a liability. I knew too much about their plans—about how they intended to control Sylra through me, or remove her entirely if that failed.”
“Who is ‘they’?” I demanded, leaning closer. “Give me names, Caelan.”
“The same people who’ve been whispering about the dangers of a Blood Princess for years,” he replied. “The ones who fear what you represent—change, power they can’t control.”
“Names,” Father repeated, his voice like steel.
Caelan’s eyes darted to Alrik, who was standing unnaturally still by the door. “Some are in this very room.”
Alrik’s hand moved to his sword. “Watch your accusations, pup.”
“Or what?” I challenged, rising to my feet. The golden light beneath my skin pulsed in response to my anger. “You’ll arrange another ‘accident’?”
“Sylra,” Father warned, but I was beyond heeding caution.
“Was it you, Alrik?” I took a step toward him, satisfaction coursing through me when he took a corresponding step back. “Did you orchestrate the attack? Is that why you were so quick to blame me? To blame Rovan?”
“You’re delusional,” Alrik sneered, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Fear.
“Am I?” I pressed. “Or am I finally seeing clearly? You’ve been at my father’s side for years, perfectly positioned to gather information, to influence decisions.”
“Your Majesty,” Alrik appealed to my father. “Surely you don’t believe these baseless accusations? The girl is clearly unstable, just as we’ve feared.”
“The girl,” Father said slowly, “is my daughter and your future queen. Address her with respect.”
I felt a surge of gratitude toward my father, unexpected and powerful.
“I was given a choice,” Caelan continued, drawing our attention back to him. “Continue to spy on you or face elimination. I chose neither. That’s when they decided I was more useful as a martyr than a spy.”
“A martyr?” I echoed.
“My death at the hands of assassins—with you nearby—would have been convenient. Evidence of your inability to protect even those closest to you. Another reason to question your fitness to rule.”
The pieces were falling into place, a puzzle I hadn’t even known I was solving. Every slight, every whispered doubt about my capability, every ‘coincidental’ failure, all orchestrated.
“Why take the arrow then?” Rovan asked, skepticism evident in his tone. “If you knew they wanted you dead, why play into their hands?”
Caelan’s laugh was bitter. “Because the alternative was watching Sylra die. Whatever you think of me, whatever I was sent to do, I couldn’t let that happen.”
I searched his face for deception and found none, only a raw honesty that made my chest ache.
“Names,” Father demanded for the third time. “Who sent you? Who ordered the assassination?”
Caelan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the clinic door burst open. A guard stumbled in, his face ashen.
“Your Majesty! Come quickly—it’s Lord Alrik!”
I turned just in time to see Alrik had disappeared from the room, and we raced out.
