---
Chapter 32 – The Strike Beneath the Veil
Elira didn't speak. She couldn't—not with the sound of her own heartbeat thundering behind her ears, drowning out the silence that followed Celeste's declaration.
"They're after her?" Kairo's voice was low, lethal.
Celeste nodded once. "The contract is signed. The Blood Accord doesn't take coin for speculation. Someone has marked her. The girl with your name hidden in her mouth and your fire under her skin."
Elira's throat tightened. "Who—who sent them?"
Celeste raised one brow. "If I knew, I would've arrived with a blade, not a warning."
Kairo's hands clenched. "You're lying."
Celeste's expression didn't change, but her voice lost its flirtation. "Why would I lie, Kairo? I came here alone. Through a border drenched in death. My house already doubts my allegiance. Do you think I'd risk my name to warn you if this wasn't real?"
He didn't answer. Not yet.
Instead, he turned to Elira, scanning her as if already imagining wounds he couldn't bear to see. "You don't leave this citadel again," he said. "Not without me or Varek. Is that clear?"
Elira stiffened. "You think I'm going to hide while someone hunts me like an animal?"
"Yes," Kairo snapped. "Because you're not a soldier. You're not trained to kill in the dark, and that's what the Accord does best."
Celeste stepped toward the hearth, warming her gloved hands with unsettling grace. "He's not wrong. They won't come with blades you can see. The Blood Accord kills with time, poison, shadows… They don't miss, Elira. Once marked, you either vanish or die."
Elira's fingers twitched at her sides, curling into fists.
Kairo turned away, the air around him thick with fury he couldn't release.
Elira moved to stand beside him.
"I'm not going to be your weakness, Kairo," she said, quieter now. "And I won't let them turn me into one."
"You were never my weakness," he said, voice raw. "You are the one thing that's made me want to win this cursed war."
The confession split the room in half.
Even Celeste looked away.
But before the silence could deepen, a knock echoed at the doors—three sharp raps followed by a long pause.
Varek entered, his face pale beneath his helm. "Sire. There's been a breach."
Kairo's head snapped up. "Where?"
"The eastern courtyard. Two of the outer sentries are dead. Slit throats. No sound. No alarm. They were professionals."
Celeste didn't look surprised. "They've already arrived."
Kairo turned to Varek. "Lock down every wing. Triple the guards around Elira's chambers. No one—no one—gets within ten feet of her without my clearance."
Elira grabbed his arm. "You need to protect your command, not just me."
"I am protecting them," Kairo said, fierce and unyielding. "By keeping you alive."
He didn't wait for argument. With a swirl of his cloak, he stormed out, barking orders into the hallway.
Elira stood frozen in place, the firelight licking the stone walls with a flickering unease.
Celeste approached her again, slower this time. Her eyes weren't mocking now. They were… mournful.
"I should warn you," she said quietly, "The Blood Accord isn't just deadly. They're patient. And if they marked you, it's not for vengeance."
Elira met her gaze. "Then what?"
Celeste hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's because of who you are. Not what you've done."
And with that, she turned and walked away, her boots echoing against the ancient floor like the first toll of a funeral bell.
---
The wind howled louder that night—shriller, wilder, like the breath of something ancient awakening beneath the earth. Elira sat alone in the chamber Kairo had locked her into. Not imprisoned, but isolated. "For her safety," Varek had said before bolting the door from outside.
She didn't sleep. Not because of fear—but because instinct screamed too loudly in her bones.
The citadel walls were supposed to be impregnable. High stone towers. Guards at every threshold. Magic runes on the gates. And yet… two sentries had already fallen, their blood drying on the snow without a cry. And no one saw it happen.
The Blood Accord was real.
They were here.
And they were waiting.
At the stroke of midnight, the candle in her chamber flickered—once, twice—then extinguished.
No breeze. No sound. Just... darkness.
Elira stood slowly, her heartbeat steady, teeth clenched. She reached under her mattress, fingers curling around the hidden dagger Kairo had left for her days ago. Not just for defense. For courage.
She moved toward the window, but just as her foot crossed the rug, a click sounded behind her.
She spun—blade ready.
But the figure that stepped out of the shadows wasn't one of the Blood Accord. It was Varek.
Or… someone wearing his armor.
Too late.
The moment her instincts screamed, the figure lunged.
Elira barely ducked the first swipe, the blade slicing through the air just above her neck. She rolled, slammed against the dresser, and slashed upward. The figure caught her wrist, twisting it viciously until the dagger clattered to the ground.
They moved like smoke. Efficient. Trained. They weren't here to toy with her—they were here to end her.
She kicked hard, hitting the assassin's shin, just enough to break his grip.
Her fingers found the edge of the fire poker by the hearth. She gripped it, swung wide, and struck the assassin across the temple with a metallic crunch. He staggered back—but not for long.
Elira bolted.
She didn't scream. She didn't cry.
She ran.
Through the dim corridor of the east wing, past the draped windows and ice-chilled stone, barefoot and breathless. Her lungs burned but her legs didn't stop.
Guards. She had to reach the guards.
But before she could turn the corner—
A second figure stepped out from the shadows.
And this one… wasn't pretending to be anyone.
The mark of the Blood Accord was painted on their mask—crimson ink, etched in ancient runes.
Elira knew she wouldn't outrun them both.
So she didn't try.
She stopped, turned to face them, fire poker gripped like a sword.
"Come on then," she muttered, "you want my blood? Come earn it."
But before they could strike—another flash of movement.
Steel collided with steel.
And in the space between heartbeats, Kairo was there.
He didn't speak. He didn't roar. He moved like a predator unleashed.
One strike, then two—his sword carving arcs through the corridor like lightning. The first assassin barely had time to react before Kairo sliced him down the center, blood splashing across the stone floor in a violent spray.
The second tried to flee.
But Kairo was faster.
He caught him by the neck, slammed him against the wall, and whispered something Elira couldn't hear.
The assassin's eyes widened just before Kairo buried his dagger beneath his ribs.
Silence fell again.
The hallway reeked of blood.
Elira stood frozen, her breath shaking, fire poker still clenched in her trembling hands.
Kairo turned to her, his face pale and furious. "I told you not to be alone."
She tried to speak but her throat closed.
Instead, she whispered, "They were dressed as your own guard."
His eyes darkened. "Then someone inside this citadel is feeding them."
Kairo crossed to her, brushed the blood from her face with trembling fingers. "They weren't trying to kill you quickly. They wanted to drag it out. Make it a message."
"Why?" she choked out. "I'm not royalty. I don't even belong in this war."
But Kairo shook his head. "You do."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out the letter Celeste had delivered earlier.
"I opened it," he said. "Read the name of the one who paid for your death."
Elira hesitated… then took the letter.
One line. Handwritten.
No seal. No formal tone.
Just one sentence:
"For the girl born of Wynne and the ashes of the last Winterblood."
Her heart stopped.
She looked up at Kairo, lips parting. "What… what does this mean?"
But Kairo was already staring at her like he knew.
Like he had always known.
"Elira Wynne," he said slowly. "That's not just a name."
And in his eyes, she saw the truth.
The Blood Accord wasn't after her for something she did.
They were after her for what she was.
---
End of Chapter 32