Elara's POV
"We did exactly what he wanted."
Kael's words echo in my head as we walk back inside the Keep. My legs feel shaky. The rush of facing down an army is wearing off, leaving me exhausted and scared.
"How long has he been planning this?" I ask.
"Years. Maybe decades." Kael leads me through dark hallways. "Theron is patient. He's also brilliant and completely insane. Bad combination."
We reach a large room with a fireplace. Kael snaps his fingers and flames roar to life. I jump—I've never seen magic done so casually before.
"You should rest," he says. "Today was..."
"Completely insane?"
"I was going to say 'eventful,' but yes." He almost smiles. Almost. "There are bedrooms upstairs. Pick any one you want. I'll be in the east wing if you need me."
He starts to leave.
"Kael, wait."
He stops. Doesn't turn around.
"That servant girl," I say. "The one who threw the papers. If she's really Theron's spy, why did she help me? Why expose Lysander's crimes?"
"Because it served Theron's purpose. He wanted the army to leave. He wanted you to stay here, bonded to me, exactly where he can watch us." Kael's shoulders are tense. "Everything that happened today—the confrontation, the evidence, even your decision to negotiate—it all went according to his plan."
"Then we need to find the girl. Question her. Find out what Theron really wants."
"She's in Stellaris. Protected by crowds and walls. We can't reach her." Kael finally looks at me. "We're trapped, Elara. The curse binds us to the Keep and the wasteland. We can't leave without the barrier collapsing."
The reality hits me hard. I chose this. I chose to share the curse, to become a guardian. I thought I was being brave.
Maybe I was just being stupid.
"Get some rest," Kael says gently. "We'll figure this out tomorrow."
This time when he leaves, I don't stop him.
I climb the stairs, find a bedroom that's less dusty than the others, and sit on the bed. Through the window, I can see the wasteland stretching endlessly. My prison now.
I should cry. Should scream. Should regret everything.
Instead, I feel... calm.
For the first time in my life, I made my own choice. Not what my family wanted. Not what the city demanded. Mine.
Even if it was the wrong choice, at least it was mine.
I try to sleep but can't. The bed is too soft after years on a thin mattress. The silence is too loud. My mind won't stop racing.
Finally, I give up. I grab a candle from the nightstand and decide to explore.
The Keep is enormous. Hallways branch off in every direction. Rooms full of covered furniture and old memories. I find a music room with a piano covered in dust. A dining hall with a table long enough for fifty people. A gallery with paintings of people I don't recognize—probably Lunaris nobility from before the fall.
Then I find the library.
It's the most beautiful room I've ever seen. Shelves from floor to ceiling, packed with books. Thousands of them. Maybe tens of thousands. Some look ancient, leather covers cracked with age. Others are newer, their spines barely creased.
I've never been allowed to read freely. Lysander said education was wasted on someone like me. The few books I saw were the ones I had to cleanse, and I was usually in too much pain afterward to care about reading them.
But now...
I pull down a book at random. The History of Stellaris and Its Founding. Perfect.
I settle into a chair by the window, candle on the side table, and start reading.
The book confirms what Kael told me. Stellaris was built on Lunaris's ruins three hundred years ago. After "a great catastrophe" destroyed the old kingdom, survivors founded a new city. They built walls to keep out "the cursed wasteland" and appointed "a guardian" to watch over it.
They make it sound noble. Respectful.
The book doesn't mention that the guardian didn't volunteer. That he's the very person who caused the catastrophe. That they trapped him there as punishment while they profited from the disaster.
I'm so absorbed in reading that I don't hear the footsteps until they're right outside.
I freeze. The door opens.
Kael enters. He doesn't see me—I'm tucked in a corner, shadows hiding me. He walks to a desk, sits down, and puts his head in his hands.
For a long moment, he's completely still.
Then I hear it.
Crying.
Quiet, broken sobs that sound like they're being torn from somewhere deep inside. His shoulders shake. His breath comes in gasps.
"Three hundred years," he whispers to himself. "I can't do this anymore. I can't—"
His voice breaks.
My heart shatters.
This is the Sorcerer King. The monster. The cursed guardian who's feared across the wasteland.
And he's crying alone in the dark because he's been carrying an impossible burden for longer than I can imagine.
I should leave. Give him privacy. This is too personal, too raw.
But I can't move.
"I tried," Kael continues, talking to himself or maybe to ghosts. "I tried to be good. To protect them. To earn redemption. But it never ends. The guilt never fades. The loneliness never stops. And now she's here, and I've dragged her into this hell with me, and I don't know how to fix it."
He's talking about me.
"She should hate me," he says. "She should have run. Should have let them take her back. But she didn't. She chose to stay. Why? Why would anyone choose this?"
Because you needed help, I think. Because you were alone. Because someone had to.
"I don't deserve kindness," Kael whispers. "I don't deserve a second chance. I destroyed everything. Everyone I loved, everything beautiful, all gone because I was selfish and stupid and thought I could control dark magic."
He slams his stone hand on the desk. Books rattle.
"And now Theron is planning something and that girl is probably in danger and I can't protect anyone because I'm still the same useless fool who ruined everything three hundred years ago!"
The pain in his voice is unbearable.
I stand up. Step into the candlelight.
"You're not useless."
Kael's head snaps up. His eyes are red, wet with tears. For a second, he looks terrified—caught, vulnerable, exposed.
Then his expression closes off. Goes cold and distant.
"How long have you been here?"
"Long enough." I walk toward him. "You're not useless, Kael. You've held that barrier alone for three hundred years. You've protected thousands of people who never thanked you. Who called you a monster. Who sent you tributes like they were throwing scraps to a dog."
"I am a monster."
"Monsters don't cry." I stop in front of his desk. "Monsters don't feel guilt. They don't try to protect people who hate them. They don't push away someone who wants to help because they're worried about her safety."
"Elara—"
"You made terrible choices. I know that. You know that. But you've spent three centuries paying for them. At some point, doesn't that count for something?"
"No," he says flatly. "Some things can't be forgiven."
"Maybe not. But they can be moved past. They can be learned from." I hold up my marked palm. "I chose to share this curse. Not because I'm stupid or naive. But because I saw someone who needed help and I could give it. That was my choice. You don't get to feel guilty about it."
Kael stares at me. "You're remarkable, you know that?"
"I'm tired of people deciding what I should do or feel or be. Including you." I pull up a chair and sit across from him. "Now. Tell me about Theron's spy. The servant girl. What's her name?"
"What?"
"Her name. You must know it if Theron said she's been his spy for years."
Kael blinks, thrown by the change of subject. "Nina. Nina Ashwood. She started working in your house about five years ago."
"Five years." I think back. Nina was always kind to me. Always whispered apologies when she brought me meals in my locked room. "She must have been watching me. Reporting to Theron."
"Probably."
"But why? What does Theron gain from having a spy in my house?"
"Information. Leverage. Knowledge about your Moonmark and how your family was using it." Kael leans back. "He's been planning this since before you were sent here. Maybe since before the lottery even happened."
A horrible thought occurs to me.
"What if the lottery was rigged? What if Theron arranged for me to be chosen?"
Kael's eyes widen. "That would mean..."
"That everything—my being sent here, our bonding, the army coming, all of it—was orchestrated." I feel sick. "We're not players in this game. We're pieces."
Before Kael can answer, glass shatters.
We both jump up. The window behind me explodes inward. A black arrow embeds itself in the bookshelf, missing my head by inches.
Attached to the arrow is a note.
Kael grabs it with his stone hand, unfolds it. His face goes pale.
"What?" I demand. "What does it say?"
He hands it to me.
The handwriting is elegant, almost playful:
Dearest Elara and Kael,
Congratulations on surviving Day One! I hope you're enjoying your new bond. To make things more interesting, I've sent you a gift. She should arrive right about... now.
A scream echoes from outside. Female. Terrified.
We run to the broken window and look down.
In the courtyard, surrounded by shadow creatures, is Nina.
The spy. The servant girl who helped me.
And she's holding a baby.
"HELP!" Nina screams up at us. "PLEASE! THEY TOOK MY DAUGHTER! THEY SAID IF I DIDN'T COME HERE, THEY'D KILL HER! PLEASE!"
The note continues:
Nina has been very useful to me, but she's outlived her purpose. The child, however, is quite special. The father is a battle mage from Stellaris. The mother is my loyal spy. Their daughter has tremendous magical potential.
Here's the game: Save Nina and the baby, or let them die and Stellaris loses a future weapon against me. Choose quickly. The shadow creatures are very hungry.
Love and chaos,
Theron
"It's a trap," Kael says immediately.
"I know." I'm already running for the door. "We're going anyway."
"Elara, wait—"
But I'm already gone, racing down the stairs, because I don't care if it's a trap or a game or part of some master plan.
There's a baby in that courtyard.
And I'm not letting it die.