Let's go.
Six Years Ago – Serynthia Palace, East Wing
Alina was twenty-two.
Four months pregnant.
And so alone she could hear her heart echo inside her chest.
They had locked her in the "healing chambers," a euphemism for what was once the interrogation hall—a place buried in the underwings of the royal palace where nobles were once "re-educated" for disloyalty.
She hadn't eaten in two days.
The Queen Mother had ordered it—under the guise of "containment" after Alina allegedly "struck a guard" (a lie). No one questioned the order.
Not Kaelir.
Not even the people who served her.
She sat on the cold tile floor, head against the wall, pressing both hands to her stomach. Whispering things she wished someone had once whispered to her.
"You're not alone. Not really. I'll get us out."
Then the door creaked.
Alina scrambled to her feet, expecting a guard.
But it was worse.
It was Aelin Kordas.
She remembered him from her father's court before the Moreau collapse. Smooth. Rich. Cold.
He had been one of the ones who profited most from the fall of her family.
"Your Highness," he drawled. "Or is it traitor now?"
"I'm pregnant," she said, voice shaking.
He smiled. "That's why I'm here."
He stepped forward, removing gloves from his hand.
"You think you're still a chess piece. But you're just a broken pawn no one claimed. Not even the prince."
She backed up. "What are you—"
"Think of this as… quality control," he said. "We can't risk the heir being contaminated with Moreau filth."
Then he reached for her.
She snapped.
She didn't remember reaching for the tray. Didn't remember the edge slicing his throat open. Didn't remember screaming until her voice cracked.
She just remembered his blood on her palms.
And the instant, haunting realization:
No one was coming to save her.
---
Present Day – Royal Archives
Alina stood alone in the sealed, private archives, the dusty scent of ink and secrets pressing in.
Kaelir had pulled every classified file linked to the Violet Serpent—the assassins who left the note.
And at the top of the pile?
A photo.
Aelin Kordas.
Status: Deceased.
Cause: Unknown.
Last seen: Serynthia Palace. Six years ago.
Kaelir entered the room behind her.
"You killed him, didn't you?"
Alina didn't flinch. "Would it matter if I did?"
"No," he said softly. "I just wish I'd helped."
She turned, pain etched deep.
"You couldn't even see I was drowning."
Kaelir stepped forward, something breaking in his expression.
"I didn't know how to love you back then. All I knew how to do was protect the crown."
Alina's voice cracked. "I didn't want the crown."
"I know."
A pause.
"But I want you now," he whispered.
Her mask cracked—just a little.
But before she could speak—
A blackout hit the palace.
Lights gone. Power cut. Alarms blaring.
Kaelir was already moving. "The twins."
Alina was faster.
She was no longer a girl in a gilded cage.
She was a mother with blood on her hands, and someone had just made the mistake of threatening her family.