SYLRA’S POV
“Release her,” Rovan demanded, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to being obeyed. His eyes, those familiar amber eyes I’d spent years trying to forget, locked on the guards holding my wrists. “Now.”
The pressure on my arms vanished immediately. I stepped back, rubbing circulation back into my hands, aware of how every person in the room was watching us.
“You have no authority here,” Alrik snapped, stepping forward with his hand on the hilt of his dagger. “This is Summit territory.”
Rovan’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. “And yet, here I am.”
My father raised his hand, silencing the growing murmurs. “You claim to know who’s responsible for this attack, Rovan? Speak, then.”
I watched Rovan carefully. “I’ve been tracking suspicious activity along the western border for weeks,” Rovan said, stepping further into the room. He pulled a crumpled map from inside his jacket, unfolding it on the table beside Caelan’s bed. “Three days ago, I intercepted a conversation about an assassination planned during the Summit Hunt.”
“And you didn’t think to warn anyone?” I demanded, unable to keep the accusation from my voice.
His eyes met mine, something flickering in their depths that I couldn’t read. “I tried. My messenger never reached you. Found him with his throat cut a mile from your gates.”
A chill ran down my spine. Father leaned forward, examining the map where Rovan had marked several locations with red ink.
“These camps,” Father said, pointing to the markings. “You’re certain?”
“I’ve seen them myself,” Rovan replied. “Mercenaries, mostly. Some rogue wolves. All heavily armed and organized.”
“Convenient,” Alrik interjected, his voice dripping with skepticism. “You appear out of nowhere, just in time to witness a plot against the Blood Princess?”
Rovan’s face hardened. “I never left these lands, Alrik. Just because you didn’t see me doesn’t mean I wasn’t watching.”
The implication hung heavy in the air. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, whether from anger or something else, I couldn’t say.
“If what you say is true,” my father said slowly, “why target Sylra now? Why during the Summit Hunt?”
“Because there’s nothing like a dead heir to destabilize a kingdom,” Rovan answered grimly. He pulled something else from his jacket—a silver medallion on a chain, its surface etched with a symbol I recognized immediately.
My breath caught. “The Silent Fang.”
“A faction that doesn’t want to see the Blood Princess take the throne,” Rovan confirmed, placing the medallion on the table. “They’ve been growing in power for months. This attack wasn’t random—it was calculated. Designed to look like an outsider job but it’s not.”
Alrik scoffed loudly. “This proves nothing. For all we know, you planted this evidence yourself.”
“Enough!” Father’s voice cut through the argument. “Rovan, you have evidence that clears my daughter?”
“More than that.” Rovan pulled out a small leather pouch and emptied its contents onto the table—a broken arrowhead identical to the one removed from Caelan’s shoulder, and a scrap of parchment stained with blood. “The arrow I pulled from one of the assassins who didn’t make it. And instructions, naming their target.”
Father picked up the parchment, his expression darkening as he read. “The Blood Princess is to be eliminated during the Hunt. No witnesses.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides. “So I wasn’t imagining things. Someone really is trying to kill me, not Caelan.”
Alrik insisted, his face flushed with anger. “Rovan could be the one who planned this whole thing. Showing up conveniently with ‘evidence’ and an army at our gates? This reeks of a coup.”
I stepped between them before Rovan could respond. “Rovan wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Really?” Alrik’s eyebrows shot up, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. “Is that because he’s your ex-mate? Your judgment becomes remarkably clouded when it comes to him, doesn’t it, Princess?”
The word “ex-mate” hit like a physical blow.
“My past with Rovan has nothing to do with this,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“Doesn’t it?” Alrik pressed. “You’d take his word over the testimony of Summit guards? Over wolves who have sworn loyalty to your father?”
“I’d take truth over lies,” I countered, “no matter whose mouth it comes from.”
“Truth?” Alrik laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. “You wouldn’t know truth if it bit you in the throat. You’re so desperate to believe he’s here to save you—”
“I’m here because someone needs to be,” Rovan cut in, his voice dangerously quiet. “While you’ve been positioning yourself as the king’s right hand, Alrik, traitors have been gathering at our borders.”
The tension between them crackled like lightning before a storm. Father moved between them, his expression grave.
“If what Rovan says is true, we need to move quickly. The Summit is compromised.”
“It’s worse than you think,” Rovan said, his eyes drifting to Caelan’s unconscious form on the bed. “The attack had some sort of connection with Caelan.”
The room went silent. I felt as if the floor had dropped out from under me.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, stepping closer to Caelan protectively.
Rovan’s expression softened slightly as he looked at me. “I heard his name among the wolves I was tracking. They spoke of him specifically—that he needed to be close to you during the Hunt.”
“You’re lying,” I whispered, but even as the words left my mouth, doubt crept in like poison. Caelan had insisted on staying by my side during the Hunt. Had positioned himself perfectly to take that arrow…
“I heard them say it myself,” Rovan continued, his voice gentle but relentless. “They called him by name. Said the plan couldn’t move forward without him.”
I gasped, the implications hitting me like a physical blow. The room spun around me as I stared at Caelan’s unconscious form, trying to reconcile the man who had made me laugh just hours ago with the traitor Rovan was describing.
