Kael's POV
His chamber was quiet — too quiet for morning.
Kael sat at the long oak table, fingers drumming absently against a pile of reports. The parchment in front of him spoke of trade routes, border patrols, and negotiations with the northern houses — things he was supposed to care about.
But his mind wasn't in Dravenhart.
It was in Evandelle.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "She was supposed to send a raven by now," he murmured. The words weren't meant for anyone, but the room heard them anyway.
The butche — an older man with graying hair — hesitated before speaking. "Perhaps Lady Zelene is occupied, my lord. Preparations for the winter fair, perhaps?"
Kael didn't answer. His jaw tightened.
Zelene never forgot. Not messages, not promises, not him.
Something was off.
He stood abruptly, pushing his chair back. The movement startled the steward. "Fetch me the last rider from Evandelle," Kael ordered. "I want—"
The doors slammed open before he could finish.
A soldier stumbled in — armor dusted with ash, cloak torn, face pale with exhaustion. It was Darius.
Kael's heart dropped.
"Lord Kael," Darius gasped, bowing quickly. "Forgive my intrusion, but—" He faltered, chest heaving. "Evandelle has fallen."
The words hung like steel in the air.
Kael froze. His mind didn't register it at first. The syllables came together, but the meaning didn't. "What did you just say?"
Darius looked up, eyes glinting with horror. "They came at night. The manor— it's gone, my lord. Burned. The guards— the Evandelle soldiers— all slain."
Kael's hands curled into fists. "And Zelene?" His voice broke before he could stop it. "What of her?"
Darius hesitated. That pause was enough.
"Tell me!" Kael roared, the table shaking beneath his fist.
"I don't know, my lord" Darius stammered. "No one saw her body. Some said she fled with a man — Ray perhaps. But the enemy's banners surrounded the estate."
Kael turned away, pacing. His breath came fast, shallow. His chest ached as if something inside him had been split open.
Zelene.
He could still see her — the way she'd smiled that last morning, teasing him for always worrying. "You treat every storm like a war, Kael," she'd said, eyes soft.
And now—
He slammed his palm against the stone wall, hard enough to leave a mark.
"Who attacked?" His voice was low now — dangerous.
Darius shook his head. "No insignias, my lord. They moved like trained soldiers, not raiders. Whoever led them—" He hesitated again. "They wanted Evandelle silenced."
Kael's pulse thundered in his ears. "Get my horse ready," he said.
"My lord, that's madness!" the steward protested. "We don't know if the roads are safe—"
"I don't care!" Kael's voice cut through the chamber like a blade. "If there's even a chance she's alive, I'm going."
He turned to Darius. "Gather a squad. The fastest riders. We leave before dusk."
Darius nodded, bowing deeply. "At once, my lord."
When the door closed behind them, Kael stood alone. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke from the hearth — faint, but enough to make his throat tighten.
He looked out the window, toward the northern woods where the horizon blurred into mist. Somewhere out there — maybe — she was still breathing.
"Hold on, Zelene," he whispered. "Just hold on."