rarely went down to the dock for there was truly not much to do. Nothing more than ships coming in and out, loading and unloading, some arriving on time, some waylaid by the storms shredding the world. We only cared for the goods being brought, the crates hauled into the castle, not how they arrived.

I remained rooted to my place, on the roof of the small building standing a bit behind the wooden bridges. It hosted the cabinets and offices of those constantly assigned here, a three-levels structure in the very heart of the buzz. It offered enough leverage to observe the lower guards on their posts, Sédil and Dier who were stationed each on a different side, and Aedis who had gone down to make sure the shipment he was waiting for arrived on time and intact.

That shipment—the reason behind all the changes forced on our schedules. Our plans.

Like all others, it carried goods and weapons and many, many crates with rotting corpses. But there had been something else, a smaller crate the size of an average jewelry box that Aedis had been more than cautious about it. A special delivery for the Queen.

I couldn’t quite tell what it held, what was the true nature of the magic throbbing within it from so far, but the rain and the winds emphasized its scent, and it was dark and heavy enough to know it was the sort of sorcery needed to waken a god.

I could only wonder if Blake knew what it was, if he was even aware of that shipment.

Box still in his arms, Aedis entered the building I was perched on, a momentary stare passing between us. And a nod that was so subtle it couldn't be noticed. My attention drifted between the many ships being anchored, the sailors and workers bringing down the sails, throwing the ropes, fighting the unrelenting winds.

The storm hadn't ceased a fraction, the rain didn't halt, the winds didn’t stop howling. Like a beast finally up from its slumber.

I could only beg this weather didn't stretch far enough, that it didn't tackle Cantelot or any of the remaining continents. With the Eleven Winds coming closer, Cantelot might not survive all of this wreckage. I could almost feel Téors's words ripping through my memories, pulling that day at the temple to the top of my consciousness. Cantelot was falling, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. To help it fight back. Nothing but to keep on playing this wicked game I'd been battling through for months now.

The gate that opened and closed in a heartbeat was silent, clean, and scentless. So well performed I believed not even Lysithea would have noticed it if she weren't in her rooms, waiting on very thin threads. Aedis was out not long afterward, empty handed, the cape billowing behind him crackling like fire. A long masterpiece of fabric that couldn't be damaged, dyed a rich, fiery red, ran by a black, median line not wider than a finger. A reversed twin to the one I owned, the one marking our positions as First Female and First Male.

I kept staring forward, drenched from head to toes, hands locked behind my back as I sensed him move farther away, the rabble of workers splitting silently to make path. Mortified. They were mortified of the title he bore, of the powers that hissed around his wrists like snakes, of the glowering eyes. It would have been a sight, once those cowering demons would discover that he was not only the First Male and Kyel of the Windreapers, but the heir of the Nevorian throne. And the future king of Ardoria.

The world went white for a heartbeat. And everything seemed to halt in that moment. The noises, the winds, the scattered words, the drowned voices, the groaning of the ropes as they were pulled—it all went quiet. Then thunder exploded.

The world raged again, but all those present uttered no word. No sound, as they saw how the waters had surged, how the waves had risen a good few hundred meters from the docks, how mighty they were. It would take a blink for them to ravage these lands would they crash, a blink before we all ended up in that churning sea. But they didn't come down on us.

A mighty growl echoed in my head as those waves exploded in place, glorious, deadly winds surging from them, tearing sails like a burning knife through butter. The wooden bridges cracked, skins were cut open from the blast, coughing fits grew loud.

The stillness bathing the docks faded when Dier had barked his orders, the bustling slowly growing back to its natural state. I turned then, easily finding Aedis near one of the gates, eyes strained on the sea. On where that thing had been. He didn't make to look at me, didn't meet my eyes as he turned back and resumed walking. But I had caught his cue, the two faint tapping of his finger on the metal pole. Such an absent-minded action when all attention had been steered to the storm and the sea. But it said enough.

Our plans underwent brisk changes, but we still were heading to the secret library Leon knew its whereabouts once my shift was done, hoping to disclose as much as we could. To discover what the Aubarios was, what it contained. What was so precious about its heart that Ha-ámej couldn't leave it here.

And so I remained perched atop the building, observing how the sea tangoed with the mad winds, how some pairs of glowing eyes would come near the surface then dive back into the deep after circling the leaving ships. Those beasts—monsters—they were one of my greatest worries for when it would be time to leave. One of my greatest studies. They were carved into the pillars of the castle, inked in books that dated for thousands of years, sung about around campfires and inns.

They would be dead, too, before war could crash down on us. They would be dead the moment I would step out of Eziara even if killing them could cost me more than half my powers.

A ringing bell echoed amongst the howling winds and grunting sailors, a large and heavy sound that filled the entire place, every nook, every wave, seeming to echo with the stomping boots and hissing chains. The guards shifted, some switching stations, some eagerly returning to the cabinets for their recess, and some unfurling their winds, shooting to wherever they were assigned next. Carter was one of those who took flight without wasting any more seconds here, but Sédil had stayed, had made up her way to where I was, had taken on my position.

She halted when we became shoulder to shoulder, her eyes narrowed still on where those mighty waves had risen. "Keep watch on the pattern,'' I breathed, voice low, almost lost with the winds. But she picked every word, mines and the ones exchanged between the sailors. A fae of wind and earth—I doubted anything within her elemental could go unnoticed to her. "See how they lurk in their waters, when they rise and fall. Report anything that falls out of line.''

Not even a nod in response, nothing but the hands she locked behind her back, the squared shoulders and high-held chin.

I didn't add to it more, and I would have been gone in a heartbeat's matter if it weren't for the presence I picked up, sprinting to the gates, eyes finding me with little effort. A messenger. He arrived gasping, face flushed and hand trembling to pick the letter tucked in his jacket. Whether the shortness of breath was because of the run or the sheer terror, I couldn't quite tell. But he'd looked beyond elated when told to get out of my sights, and was down and sprinting again within mere heartbeats, leaving me with the sealed letter.

The wax, the seal, the scent—

From Blake.

Without any delays, most likely from his chambers to my hands.

Mayra and I shared one last stare before I stepped into the darkness that unfurled from around my ankles. Half a step and no more and I found myself in an old and abandoned, underground tunnel, Leon leaning on a wall, waiting for me.

There were no lights here, no running winds—a long forgotten path carved in the very earth beneath the castle.

"The spell worked,'' was the first thing that came out of me, the first words I'd told him since morning.

Leon blinked, a relieved sigh curling out of his mouth as he brought a hand to my face, cupping the side of it. I found myself leaning on him, head on his chest, feeling the words I wanted to say locked atop my throat, ripping it.

I could have killed him.

I failed.

I hadn't allowed any of what had happened in his chambers to trickle down the bond yet, and I wasn't sure how to. How to tell him I could have spared us all the troubles of the upcoming weeks in a golden moment.

My husband lowered his head, forehead to forehead, warm breaths caressing my skin, teasing it.

"What did you find?" The hand on my face trailed to my neck in long strokes, slowly pulling me even closer.

''I…'' My free hand grabbed the arm he put around me, needing to feel him beneath my touch, to feel the contractions of his muscles as he kept me close. "It's not safe here.''

He didn't push at it more but still nodded to the letter, to the scent it carried.

"Received it from a messenger before leaving.''

Leon didn't object as I carefully pulled back, a claw already out and tearing at the wax. It fell silent on the earthy ground. The paper itself was bare but the four words in its middle, written clear in the Old Tongue.

The throne room. Now.

I swore. And not only because he was ruining another attempt at getting answers but—

"Do you think he found out?"

The potion, the answers I was trying to pull out of him. The lies.

My husband remained silent for a suffocating heartbeat before he breathed, ''It will be too suspicious if I come with you.'' His fingers slid to mine, taking the paper out of my grasp before it fell, fire swallowing it before it touched ground. "Half a thought.'' He held my face tight, thumbs circling in feather-light gestures. "I am half a thought away from barging into the throne room when you need me.''

I could barely nod. Could barely breath. "Seek the library.'' I leaned a bit closer. ''We'll share what we'll find when we're done.''

I didn't feel my legs anymore as there had been no more distance between us, as his mouth found mine. A long and slow kiss. A promise.

"Forever?"

"Forever.''

The darkness pulled me then. But not before I let the walls down, all that had happened in Blake's rooms trickling to his consciousness. All of it, bare and

raw.

I didn’t linger to see nor feel what his reactions might be.

The gate sealed.

I hadn't bothered with the grand doors. Or the sentinels guarding it.

The darkness left me in the throne room, alone with its king, seated on his throne.

The silence that stretched between us could kill armies.

He held his head high—he always did—but even with the glimmering chandeliers, the black devouring his eyes was stark.

Not red not pink not amber. Black. Clean and depthless black.

Every single inch, every smear of blood, every droplet of water hitting the marble floor, he noted them all. Swallowed me whole with his stares.

"You're soaked.''

"I can see that.''

Some more silence.

"I don't particularly like to wait. Especially when my words are clear.''

My eyebrows arched, arms crossing over my chest as I eyed him. Not a sign that he knew of any scheme yet.

"And I don't particularly like working on my free time."

Another silence as he rose from his seat, leisurely paced steps muffled by the velvet carpet. Not a movement of his aura out of place, not an unusual flicker of magic. Something akin to a hum rumbled from his throat as he undone the shirt I had tied around my waist, not blinking as it spattered lightly over his boots. ''You did leave my rooms before your shift was over.''

My fangs grew, the innate wickedness of the Windreapers lacing every word, "I was regaining control after your mother dispersed my orders.''

Another low rumble as his fingers traced the words inked on my skin. But when his touches left my arm to reach my face, I knew he'd picked Aedis's scent, knew he was trying to overlay it with his. I didn't push him away—couldn't, even as he ran his fingertips over my chin, my lips. As it made my blood course like fire in my veins.

"You knew about the shipment, didn't you?"

His stare was enough answer. Wicked, malicious—

"You're planning on stealing it.''

Blake Armedes smirked, and everything in it was feral. Terrifying. "Such powers have no use in the hands of a woman destined to die.''

To die on his hands.

Such powers—the waves, the sudden muteness. Caused by whatever that box contained.

"Why did you call me here, Dearcious?"

Not Blake, because I truly realized there was not a shred of him in this man, not a bit, either the boy I knew or the cruel king he became.

"For work.'' Shadows erupted around us, swirling like smoke, enclosing. "Unless you've forgotten how a team works like.''