Seraphina's POV
"That's not possible."
My voice sounds far away, like someone else is speaking. I stare at the kill order in my shaking hands, at the signature that makes my heart stop.
Lucian Aldric
My baby brother's name, written in his messy scrawl. The same handwriting from birthday cards and silly notes he used to slip under my door. The same backward slant on the 'L' that our tutors could never fix.
"Seraphina." Caspian's voice is gentle, but firm. "We need to move. More resistance fighters could be coming."
I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't think past the roaring in my ears.
Lucian is alive.
Lucian wants me dead.
"Princess." Elena touches my shoulder carefully. "I know this is a shock, but—"
"A shock?" I laugh, and it sounds hysterical even to my own ears. "My brother died five years ago. I mourned him. I cried over his grave. And now you're telling me he's alive and trying to murder me?"
"We don't know for certain—" Caspian starts.
"It's his handwriting!" I shove the scroll at him. "I'd recognize it anywhere. He was twelve when he died. This looks exactly like how he wrote back then, just... older. Shakier."
Caspian studies the signature with those storm-gray eyes. "If he survived, someone's been hiding him for five years. Someone with resources and influence."
"Who would do that? Why?"
"I don't know. But we'll find out." He looks at Elena. "Get the survivors to safety. Question any resistance fighters we captured. I want to know everything about this kill order—who issued it, when, and where it came from."
Elena salutes and hurries away, shouting orders to the remaining guards.
I'm still staring at the scroll when Caspian gently takes it from my hands.
"You're in shock," he says quietly. "That's normal. But right now, we need to get you somewhere safe."
"Safe?" I look up at him. Blood drips from the wound in his arm where he took that dagger for me. His wedding clothes are torn and covered in dust. "Where is safe? My own people just tried to kill me. My brother—my dead brother—wants me dead. Where exactly do you think is safe?"
"With me."
The certainty in his voice makes me want to scream. Or cry. Or both.
"You don't even know me," I say. "We got married an hour ago and spent most of it running from people trying to kill us."
"I know enough." He meets my eyes steadily. "I know you didn't run when I gave you the chance. I know you stood up to Silva even though you were terrified. I know you're stronger than you think."
Something in my chest cracks at his words.
"Your arm," I say instead of responding. "You need a doctor."
"It's not deep."
"You're still bleeding."
"I've had worse."
Of course he has. He's a soldier. A prince raised for war. And I'm... what? A princess who hid while her family died? A girl who couldn't save anyone?
"Stop," Caspian says, and I realize I spoke that last part out loud. "You were seventeen and unarmed. There was nothing you could have done."
"You don't know that."
"I do." His jaw tightens. "Because I was there. I saw the attack. I saw—" He stops abruptly.
"You saw what?" I demand.
He looks away. "We need to go."
"No." I grab his uninjured arm before he can walk away. "You were going to say something. What did you see?"
For a long moment, he just stares at our joined hands. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"I saw a girl hiding behind a pillar, watching her mother die. I saw her trying not to cry, trying not to make a sound, even though she was shaking so hard I thought she'd collapse. And I saw her survive when she had every reason to give up."
My breath catches. "You saw me that night?"
"Yes."
"Did you..." I swallow hard. "Did you try to stop them? The soldiers who killed my family?"
His silence is answer enough.
"Why not?" The anger surprises me with its force. "If you saw what was happening, why didn't you stop it?"
"Because I couldn't!" The words burst from him like they've been locked away too long. "I had orders. If I'd disobeyed, my father would have—" He stops again, breathing hard.
"Would have what?"
Caspian's gray eyes are haunted. "There were Thornhaven civilians in the occupied districts. Families with children. My father made it clear—if I didn't follow orders exactly, he'd slaughter them all. Every single one."
I stare at him, trying to process this. "That's why you led the invasion? He threatened innocents?"
"Yes." The word comes out broken. "I chose to save a thousand strangers instead of your family. I live with that choice every day."
Understanding hits me like a physical blow. He's been carrying this guilt for five years. Hating himself for what he did, even though he had an impossible choice.
Just like I've been hating myself for hiding.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Caspian continues. "I don't deserve it. But I need you to understand—everything I've done since that night has been trying to make it right. The reconstruction funds, the prisoner releases, everything. I can't bring them back, but I can try to—"
A scream cuts through the air.
We both spin toward the sound. In the distance, near the collapsed cathedral, I see movement. Figures emerging from the rubble.
"Impossible," Elena breathes, running back to us. "The entire structure came down. No one could have survived—"
But they did. At least a dozen resistance fighters, crawling from the wreckage. And at their center, standing tall despite the destruction around her, is Silva.
She sees us across the gardens and smiles.
"How is she still alive?" I whisper.
"Magic," Caspian says grimly. "She must have shielded herself and her fighters."
Silva raises her hand, and I see something glinting in her palm. A small crystal, pulsing with dark red light.
"That's blood magic," I gasp. "But only my family—"
"Run," Caspian orders. "NOW."
He grabs my hand and we sprint toward the palace. Behind us, I hear Silva laugh.
"You can't run forever, little princess!" she calls out. "Your brother sends his regards!"
We burst through the palace doors. Guards slam them shut behind us, barricading them with heavy beams.
"My private chambers," Caspian says, pulling me down a corridor. "They're warded. She won't be able to break through."
We race through the palace, taking turns so quickly I lose track of where we are. Finally, we reach a heavy door. Caspian presses his palm against it, and I feel magic pulse—different from mine, cool and sharp like winter air.
The door swings open and he pulls me inside, slamming it shut.
For a moment, we just stand there, breathing hard.
Then I notice where we are.
It's a bedroom. His bedroom, I assume, from the military precision of everything. But what catches my attention is the desk in the corner, covered in papers and maps.
Maps of Aldoria.
I walk closer, my heart pounding. There are notes in Caspian's handwriting, detailed plans for reconstruction, lists of Aldorian families who need help, schedules for prisoner releases.
Everything he told me was true.
"You really have been trying to help," I say softly.
"I told you—"
"I know what you told me. But seeing it is different." I turn to face him. "Why? Why go to all this trouble for people you conquered?"
Caspian's expression is raw and unguarded. "Because your mother begged me to protect her people before she died. She made me promise. And because..." He stops, struggling with the words. "Because when I close my eyes, I still see you hiding behind that pillar. Still see the look on your face when you realized everyone you loved was gone. And I know I put that look there."
Tears burn my eyes. I don't want to cry in front of him, but I can't help it.
"My brother is alive," I whisper. "And he hates me enough to want me dead."
"We don't know why he—"
"He signed a kill order with my name on it!" My voice breaks. "What other explanation is there?"
Caspian moves closer but doesn't touch me. "Someone got to him. Twisted him. The Lucian you knew wouldn't do this."
"You didn't know him."
"No. But I know what it's like to be forced into impossible choices by someone who should protect you. If your brother is alive, someone has been controlling him. Using him."
The thought makes me sick. "Like your father controlled you?"
"Exactly like that."
I'm about to respond when something crashes against the chamber door. The wards flare bright blue, holding, but barely.
"She's here," Caspian says, drawing his sword.
Another crash. The wards crack.
"There's something else," I say urgently. "Silva had blood magic. My family's magic. How is that possible?"
Caspian's face goes pale. "Unless..."
We both understand at the same time.
"She has something of theirs," I breathe. "Something with their blood."
The door explodes inward in a shower of blue sparks.
Silva steps through, that dark crystal pulsing in her hand. Behind her, resistance fighters pour into the room.
"Hello again, princess," Silva purrs. "Ready to join your family?"
And in the crystal's red light, I see something that makes my blood run cold.
Trapped inside the stone, screaming silently, i
s a face I recognize.
My mother's face.
They didn't just kill my family.
They trapped their souls.