Barracks (War of Hearts)

30- Relentless

Himley returns, her expression horrified. "Hart is dead," she blurts out.

Xavier and Aldaire exchange glances. "Hart—the next heir to the throne?" My breath catches. "The one who departed earlier?" I never meant to foreshadow his death with my games. 

"Rogues attacked them," Himley reveals. "He fell victim to amethyst poison."

Aldaire's fist slams the table, rage consuming him. Xavier, uncharacteristically stunned. Time accelerates. 

"He won't survive the night!" Aldaire says.

It doesn't take me long to understand who he is referring to. The stolen rocks—the amethyst—deadly to vampires. They've fallen into treacherous hands. Aldaire intends to end the boy, but I won't allow it.

As the royals exit for the meeting room, I slip away, my resolve firm. Tonight, I'll rewrite fate of that child.

My heart pounds in my chest, drowning out the clamor of my footsteps. The council member's demise has unleashed chaos, and I hurry toward the punishing room, grateful for the absence of guards. The door creaks open, and I step inside, squinting as my eyes adjust to the dimness.

But disappointment awaits me—no one. No guards, no prisoners, and certainly no trace of the missing child. The moon spills through the barred window, casting dramatic shadows on the vacant chair where the boy once sat. Anxiety gnaws at me; I can't afford lateness. I make my way to the palace, where the seasonal festival visitors congregate in the grand hall, flanked by the council members.

Superior Jonathan clears his throat, commanding attention.

"We mourn the loss of a council member," he announces solemnly. "We won't conceal that the rogues are responsible, but we also acknowledge the heretics and spies within our castle. Recent days have brought threats and attacks."

All eyes swivel toward me.

"We'll uncover the truth and deliver justice," he declares. The boy remains elusive, and the weight of it presses on us all. Lavyrle's claim to the throne grows stronger, yet there's no evidence linking him to this tragedy. Guilt or innocence hangs in the balance.

Stefani stands near Aldaire, their proximity igniting a spark of anger within me. I shift my gaze to Xavier, his eyes soft despite the stern set of his jaw. I slip away from the crowd, seeking solace. Anastasia materializes at my side, swift and purposeful.

"I'd like to speak with you," she says, urgency etched in her expression.

Surprise prickles my skin as her invitation hangs in the air. After our last encounter, I never anticipated her approaching me again. Honestly, I wished she'd kept her distance. But here we are, and I muster a strained smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she replies, her voice cool and distant. "Please meet me in the music room tomorrow. Midday. Don't be late." She exits as swiftly as she arrived, leaving no room for shock.

My heart weighs heavy as I retreat to my room. Aldaire's presence eludes me—I neither heard nor sensed him. Yet, when morning light spills through the window, his shoes and damp towel lie abandoned. The floor bears witness to his clandestine departure.

Anger has surrendered to disappointment. I draw a bath, hoping its warmth will dissolve the tension. I don't close my eyes for fear to have the other day's incident repeated. I find myself humming a soft lullaby, its melody both foreign and achingly familiar. Wrapped in a towel, I search for my clothing, clutching the fabric as if it anchors me.