- - -
The wind bit hard as they fled through the frostbitten underbrush, night breaking into a miserable grey dawn. Millis stumbled, her dress torn, blood crusted along her jaw. But Vienna didn't stop. She Couldn't. Her grip on Millis's wrist was firm, bordering brutal.
"You're hurting me," Millis choked out.
Vienna slowed just enough to glance back. Her eyes were wild with urgency, her voice tight. "Good. That means you're still alive."
Behind them, the faint call of horns echoed—too far to tell if it was a search party… or a storm.
Millis's breath hitched. "How did you find me?"
Vienna didn't answer. She was too focused, scanning every ridge and shadow like they were death itself.
"I thought I was going to die there," Millis whispered.
"I didn't let you."
"You left her."
Vienna froze.
Millis caught up, staring at her. "You left Laraine behind."
"I had to," Vienna muttered, jaw clenched. "I had no choice."
"You always have a choice," Millis hissed.
For a heartbeat, they just stared at one another—breathless, bleeding, betrayed.
Then Vienna broke the silence. "If I'd stayed, we'd both be dead."
Millis didn't reply. She just followed, quiet and heartbroken, as Vienna helped her onto a horse. The city loomed in the distance—but for now, there was only one road left to run.
- - -
Inside the highest tower of the royal wing, the candles had burned down to crooked stubs, their wax puddled like blood on polished silver trays.
Adana stood before a map of the kingdom—pins, notes, and red thread trailing like veins across it. The capital glowed at the center, ringed by fire markers. The rebellion's march was no longer theory. It was at her doorstep.
In the corner, draped in shadows, Serelith sat silently on a cushioned chair. She had been there since dusk, unmoving, her presence like a knife pressed against the room's throat. A glass of untouched wine rested on the table beside her, reflecting the low candlelight like crimson secrets.
A knock came, swift and deliberate.
Adana didn't turn. "Enter."
A cloaked figure bowed low in the doorway. "Your Majesty… it is done."
Adana's shoulders tensed. "Millis?"
"Delivered"
A beat of silence.
Adana's fingers curled against the edge of the table, her knuckles pale. She tilted her head, almost thoughtfully. Then she exhaled, slow and cold.
"Good," she said. "Let the little girl believe she's been saved."
The spy hesitated. "Shall I recall the shadows stationed at the edge of the camp?"
"No." Adana's voice was quiet, but it carried like a blade. "Let them watch"
The spy bowed again and vanished.
Adana moved to the window, hands folded before her. Serelith didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Below, the city slept in uneasy ignorance. But the rebellion would be at the walls by morning.
Behind them, the door creaked open.
"I told you not to leave your bed," Adana murmured without looking.
King Walter stepped into the room, robes trailing like ghosts. His face was worn parchment, but his eyes still sparked with grim calculation—until they landed on the figure in the shadows.
His breath caught.
"Serelith," he rasped, disbelief and fear flickering behind his eyes. "You're… here?"
The former ghost of the court turned her head slowly, her cold gaze meeting his. "You sound disappointed."
"I knew you were alive," Walter muttered. "But I didn't expect to find you sitting at Adana's side."
"Where else would I be," she said, rising fluidly. "When the blade must fall?"
Adana finally turned from the window, arms folded. "She's been aiding the strategy for days now. Watching from the shadows. Killing when necessary."
"You trust her?" Walter asked warily.
"No," Adana replied. "But I trust her hatred."
Serelith smirked. "I have no love for Laraine, if that's what you're asking."
Walter moved to the table, steadying himself. "Then it's true. Vienna failed."
"She did more than fail," Adana said. "She betrayed."
Walter's lip curled. "And still you let her live?"
"I let her return," Adana replied. "So she could lead Laraine deeper into our web."
"And Millis?"
"Exactly where she needs to be." She paused, then added, with a flicker of something almost human: "I made sure she wasn't harmed."
Serelith tilted her head. "You're getting sentimental."
"She matters to Laraine," Adana replied coldly. "And if I have her heart, I can crush the rest."
Walter studied both women. "And if Laraine sees through it?"
Adana's eyes flicked toward the window. "Then we'll find out what burns hotter—her rage or her mercy."
She leaned closer to Walter, her voice silk on steel. "And when she stumbles… when she's cornered… we strike."
Walter touched her wrist. "And if she doesn't falter?"
Adana's gaze slid to Serelith. The assassin gave a slow nod, one hand brushing the hilt of her dagger.
"Then," Adana whispered, "we make her wish she had."
- - -
The drums of rebellion thundered through the valley.
Marching beside Cleo, Laraine kept her eyes on the distant silhouette of the capital. The gates stood still—too still. Not a soldier in sight, yet every instinct in her screamed: trap.
The air buzzed with unease. A storm was building, but not just in the clouds.
Then came the sound of galloping hooves.
She spun on reflex—blade unsheathed in one fluid motion.
Two riders breached the treeline—dust trailing behind them like ghosts. One figure cloaked in familiar black, the other slumped against her, arms trembling to stay upright.
Laraine's heart dropped.
Millis.
Alive.
And beside her—
Vienna.
Her heart twisted.
Of all the faces she'd prepared to see again, Vienna's was the one that left her breathless with fury.
"Get back!" Laraine barked to her soldiers, striding forward, sword raised and eyes burning.
Cleo tried to steady her, but it was too late.
"You," Laraine growled, stalking toward the pair as they dismounted. "What is this? A joke? Did Adana send you to deliver her personally?"
Vienna said nothing. Her red eyes betrayed nothing. That calm, maddening stillness.
It made her snap.
"You dare bring her here like a trophy?!" Laraine surged forward, blade slashing toward Vienna's throat—
Only to have it stopped mid-swing.
By Millis.
The girl stumbled in front of Vienna, arms outstretched, chest heaving.
"Don't—don't hurt her! She saved me!"
Laraine froze, blade hovering inches from Millis's skin.
Silence slammed over the clearing.
"She what?" Laraine whispered.
Millis clutched her hands together, voice shaking. "She found me. The queen's soldiers—someone tipped them off. I was taken to the palace dungeon. But Vienna found me. She brought me back."
Laraine's blade lowered, but her eyes didn't soften. Not yet.
"You're saying she rescued you? The same woman who served my stepmother like a hound?"
"She didn't have to," Millis insisted. "But she did. She chose to."
Vienna stood motionless behind her, watching with that infuriating, unreadable gaze.
"No chains. No threats. Just..." Millis looked between them. "Just pain. I think she's hurting too, Laraine."
Laraine swallowed hard, her grip loosening.
It wasn't trust.
Not yet.
But it was enough to stop the killing blow.
"I don't know what game you're playing," she said, voice low, sharp, trembling. "But if you ever threaten what's mine again—even by accident—I'll forget I ever knew you."
Vienna flinched.
Just slightly.
But Laraine saw it.
She turned back toward Cleo, jaw clenched. "Get Millis a cloak. She's freezing."
As Cleo moved, Laraine muttered without turning around, "We'll talk later."
Behind her, Vienna finally exhaled.
But the air between them remained heavy with everything unsaid.
---