Riven's heart stopped.
Tharos swore, rising to his feet, hand flying to his blade.
But Riven lifted a hand. "No. Don't touch her."
The girl sat up, head tilting, watching Riven with something like amusement and malice folded together.
"I see you still wear her name like a wound," the voice said.
Riven's jaw tightened. "Who are you?"
The girl smiled. But it wasn't her smile. It belonged to another. To someone who had once worn silver crowns and warred with him beneath a sky of fire and betrayal.
"You already know who I am."
And then the body convulsed again, this time violently, and collapsed, motionless.
Tharos rushed forward. Checked the pulse.
"She's alive," the general said.
But barely.
Riven stared, breath caught somewhere in his throat.
He knew that voice. Had dreamed it, hated it, hunted its echoes. This wasn't good.
General Tharos's voice broke the silence first, low and grim."Shall I summon the mortals, my prince?"
Riven did not answer for a heartbeat. His jaw worked, his gaze fixed on the now-still body at the center of the hall.
When he finally spoke, it was barely louder than a whisper. "Yes."
Then louder, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.
"Assemble two of the High Fae Lords. Riven and Nythera. They must bear witness and pass judgment."
Tharos bowed and turned, issuing orders as he moved.
Soon, they came.
The four remaining humans were escorted into the hall, one by one, their faces drawn and pale with fear.
Keira stood among them, her fingers twitching at her sides.
Riven sat upon his throne, high and unmoved. Darkness clung to him like a second skin. Shadows coiled beneath the dais, listening. He had slipped on his crown.
At his right, Lord Aeren stood in half-light. Dressed in ash-gray and silver, he looked every inch the silent warden. His expression was unreadable, but his posture was tense, spine straight, as though bracing for a blow.
To Aeren's left lounged Nythera Veyne, draped in indigo silks that shimmered like oil. She entered late, as always, dragging herself lazily across the marble floor, her long braids wrapped in golden wire. Her eyes, lined in blue dust, were slow and calculating as they swept the room.
She whispered something to the shadows that clung to her, and they curled tighter around her bare arms like pets.
Keira dared one glance at the throne.
Riven was watching her.
Not idly. Not distantly.
Watching her.
She swallowed and looked away, heart thudding like a drum in her chest.
And then, at a motion of Riven's hand, the side doors opened again.
Two guards carried in a slumped figure, limbs dragging, hair limp, eyes fluttering.
Keira's breath seized as she recognized the figure.
"Sera," she whispered, her hands flying to her mouth.
The guards laid the girl at the center of the room like an offering. She made no sound.
"This," Riven said, rising slowly, "is one of the chosen. Earlier today she suddenly started convulsing."
He looked over the assembled humans, his eyes like frozen moons."One of you carries something ancient. Unknowingly, perhaps. But such ignorance does not absolve you."
He began to walk down the steps, each step measured. "If you had any hand in this, any whisper, any contact, now is the time to confess. Should you remain silent, and I later find your lie, know this, death will be mercy."
The hall was silent save for the breathing of the accused.
One by one, they spoke.
"I don't know what happened to her," Micah said, voice shaking. "She just—just went still and then started screaming—"
"I swear on my blood," another girl murmured, "we didn't do anything."
Riven turned to each of them, his gaze unreadable. Then his voice curved into something almost thoughtful.
"Keira."
Her name echoed, louder than thunder in her own chest.
She looked up sharply.
He stared at her. "Sera was your friend, so you must know something."
Her mouth opened but no words came. Her heart pounded so hard it ached.She shook her head. "No, I don't."
"Think harder," he said. "Or lie better."
Keira looked from the prince to the crumpled form of Sera. Tears stung her eyes. "I don't know how this happened."
Riven took a step forward.
"Perhaps you're more like her than you know."
Before Keira could even begin to defend herself, another voice sliced through the air.
"She's already provided the answer we needed," Aeren said, his tone quiet but firm.
Heads turned.
Riven slowly shifted his gaze to Aeren. "I beg your pardon?"
Aeren stood, arms loosely crossed, his face still carved in calm. "She said she had no hand in this."
One did not contradict the prince before humans. Not like this.
Riven's expression didn't change, but the silence that followed was loud enough to drown in. "You questioned her already," he repeated, tone smooth as glass.
Aeren nodded his head in agreement, even though he had done no such thing.
"She is under my charge now," Aeren replied. "Isn't that what you decreed?"
A tension passed between them, too sharp to name. They did not shout. They did not raise voices.
But every soul in the chamber could feel it.
Riven gave the faintest of nods, as if acknowledging a silent blow."Very well," he said.
He looked back at the humans."You will return to your quarters. We will deliberate. If any of you are guilty, may your dreams betray you before I do."
He waved a hand.
The guards moved quickly, ushering the humans away.
Keira hesitated, glancing back once, just once, at the girl lying on the ground.
But Aeren was already at her side, murmuring something to a passing steward. She did not catch it.
She followed the others, her mind a storm of confusion, fear… and something else.
Because Riven's eyes had not left her until the very last moment.
And behind that fury, behind that cold fire…
She saw something else.