Chapter 43

Lena’s POV

“I’m sorry, my dear…”

My father’s broken voice came through the fog in my brain.

For a second, everything in the room seemed to stall. I turned to him slowly and his eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine.

My jaw tightened as I forced myself to step away from him. The space between us felt suffocating, like the air itself was pressing against my lungs.

“Lena…” he said, reaching out as I stood.

“You’re sorry?” My voice scraped against my throat. It felt raw, torn apart from all the screaming.

My mother’s hands closed around my arms from behind. She wasn’t holding me gently. She was restraining me.

“I—I am. I truly am—”

“You…” My teeth ground together so hard my head hurt. “All of you. You all killed him.”

My mother’s grip tightened. I could feel her shaking. Whether it was from fear or grief, I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

“Lena,” she whispered, her voice thin and fraying. “Please.”

“I begged you!” The words ripped out of me before I could stop them. I pointed at my father, my hand trembling but steady enough to accuse.

“I begged you to keep him out of it. I told you they would come for him. I told you they wouldn’t care that he never hurt anyone!”

Father flinched.

“Lena, please calm down,” Mother murmured against my shoulder, as if this were some childish tantrum that could be soothed away.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I tried to wrench myself free, but she held on with surprising strength. “He trusted you. He believed you were a better man than his father!”

My father dragged a hand down his face. He looked exhausted.

“I did try,” he said, his voice low, strained. “But Matthew is still a Forger. During war, lines blur. I cannot watch every man in the rebellion. There are those who would finish off any living Forger they see, regardless of—”

“Regardless of what?” I snapped. “Regardless of innocence? Of basic decency?”

“He chose to stay,” Father shot back suddenly, the first hint of steel in his tone. “He knew what he was risking.”

“He stayed because of his mother!” The words hit the room like a gunshot. Even I felt the recoil of them. “He stayed because despite it all, he chose to stand by his mother’s side to make sure she’ll be safe! You knew that!”

Silence followed. Heavy. Crushing.

My father’s shoulders sagged. “I cannot control hatred that has been burning for decades,” he said quietly. “Not in the middle of a war.”

“But you control your soldiers. You control what orders are given.” I said, my voice dropping to something colder.

“I never gave an order to kill him.”

“You didn’t have to.” I laughed, but it sounded wrong—sharp and hollow. “You created a world where it was expected.”

Mother finally let go of one arm and moved in front of me, her eyes red and swollen. “Lena, listen to yourself. This grief is speaking.”

“No,” I said, staring at my father. “This is clarity.”

He looked at me then. Fully. And I saw it—the guilt, yes, but also something else. Conviction. The same conviction that had fueled the rebellion from the beginning. The belief that sacrifice was inevitable.

Matthew had simply been another sacrifice for him.

“You think this is easy for me?” Father asked, his voice roughening. “You think I do not carry the weight of every life lost?”

“Do not act as if you care for all those lives,” I said. “You did not care about his.”

The words hung between us. Ugly. Honest.

“I won’t forget this,” I said, my voice steady now. “No matter how this war concluded. No matter who will rise to the throne in the end.”

“Lena—” Father began.

But I was already walking away.

—

Third Person’s POV

Back in the present…

Commander Alric didn’t slow down.

*SLAM*

The palace doors slammed open with a thunderous echo as he stormed inside, Lena’s unconscious body cradled tightly in his arms. Her head lolled against his chest, her hair spilling over his arms.

“I need help!” he barked.

Servants scattered. Guards froze.

He took the stairs two at a time.

“Daliah!” His voice cracked through the corridors. “Daliah!”

The door to the Queen’s wing flew open. Daliah stepped out—and the color drained from her face.

“Sir Alric—” Her breath hitched as she saw Lena limp in his arms. “What happened?!”

“I found her in my study,” Alric said, panic bleeding through the edges of his voice despite his effort to contain it. “She was on the floor. Unconscious.”

Daliah’s hands trembled as she rushed forward, pushing open the chamber doors wider. “Lay her on the bed—gently!”

Alric obeyed, lowering Lena onto the mattress as if she were made of glass.

“She won’t wake,” he muttered, jaw tight. “She was cold when I found her.”

Daliah pressed trembling fingers to Lena’s neck, searching for a pulse. “It’s there,” she whispered, relief and fear tangled together. “Weak, but there.”

Alric stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “Call for Dr. Fahlada. Now.”

“I’m already sending someone!” Daliah snapped toward a frozen maid in the hallway. “Go! Get Dr. Fahlada—run!”

The girl bolted.

Footsteps thundered through the corridors as guards began to gather, whispers spreading like wildfire.

—

Down the hall, Miu jolted awake.

Voices. Running. Too many footsteps.

She pushed herself up in bed, heart hammering as shadows flickered beneath her door. Figures rushed past—then back again. Someone shouted orders.

Her stomach twisted.

She slipped out of bed and moved toward the door.

“What’s going on…?” she murmured.

Another set of hurried footsteps pounded past, urgency heavy in every stride.

And for the first time that night, a cold dread settled deep in her chest. Something was terribly wrong.

Miu eased her door open, careful at first—until the sight in front of her stole the breath from her lungs.

Guards.

Rows of them lined the hallway, armor glinting beneath the chandeliers. More stood at the stairwell. At the corners. By every window. The air felt tighter, heavier, like the palace itself had drawn a sharp inhale and refused to release it.

This wasn’t normal.

Her brows knit together as she stepped fully into the corridor.

Across the hall, she spotted Daliah speaking in hushed urgency to a pair of palace guards. Miu didn’t hesitate.

“Daliah!”

Daliah’s head snapped up. The moment her eyes landed on Miu, her breath visibly hitched.

Miu crossed the distance quickly. “What’s going on?”

Daliah forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You should return to your room, Lady Miu. For now, it’s best that everyone stays inside until further notice.”

The words were calm. Too calm.

Miu stilled.

“Until further notice?” she repeated softly.

Around them, boots shifted. No one met her gaze for long. A maid hurried past with her head down. Two guards exchanged a look that lasted half a second too long.

Something had happened.

Miu slowly turned, taking in every face she could see. The stiffness in their shoulders. The way their hands hovered closer to their weapons. The way whispers died the second she looked their way.

The palace wasn’t just tense.

It was afraid.

Her heartbeat quickened.

She turned back to Daliah, eyes searching hers.

“Where’s the Queen?”