Lies are like chess pieces. One wrong move, and the entire board collapses.
"What? Daemon wasn't even on the battlefield?" Maelis asks, her voice tight with disbelief.
We ride across the outer bailey, or what is left of it. The stench of charred meat and hot metal hangs thick in the air. Beside us, General Malgor's massive warhorse snorts, its hooves crunching on bone and debris.
"No, My Lady," the Goblin General answers, his bass voice rumbling. "When we arrive, it is pure chaos. No leadership. No orders. I have to take command myself just to form a line."
Maelis knits her brows. "Then who led the initial defense?"
"No one," Malgor says dryly. "King Daemon merely writes the letter that reaches Aeloria. Had that bird not flown when it did, Morhenhall is nothing more than a footnote in history by now."
I sit behind Maelis in the saddle, taking it all in. If he isn't on the field, he must be in his study. Maelis is right—it means he finishes Azrhael, staggers upstairs while bleeding out, and uses his final spark of strength just to call for help.
An icy shiver races down my spine. That kind of willpower... it is terrifying.
"Very well," the General barks, signaling his officers. "Search for survivors. Put down any demon still twitching. I'll escort the family to the keep personally."
As we enter the courtyard, Malgor freezes. He takes in the sight: the shredded guards, the slaughtered servants, the sheer volume of blood painting the stones.
"What in the hells..." he breathes. "I think the demons never breached the keep."
"They didn't," I say calmly. "Not the army."
Every eye snaps to me.
"Three demons are already inside," I explain. "A vanguard. They pose as emissaries from Queen Draelyss to bypass the gate guards."
Malgor's green skin darkens with fury. "How can those idiots fall for a ruse that obvious?"
"They have information," I say softly. "Information that is supposed to be secret. They know Daemon is a King. Not just a Lord."
Silence falls over the group. Malgor stares at me. "Impossible. Only a handful of the chosen in Aeloria know that secret. How can filth from Thul find out?"
"Are you so sure they come from Thul?" I press.
"Of course they do!" He looks at me as if I am simple. "Queen Draelyss has authority over all demons in our realm. Why would she order the destruction of Morhenhall to kill King Daemon? It makes no sense. We move on!"
I piece the puzzle together as we walk. If Draelyss rules the local demons, she is likely innocent of the Thul invasion. But Azrhael knows too much. And Azrhael is from House Rexar—a house based in Aeloria.
The magnitude of the conspiracy hits me. Azrhael isn't an invader from Thul; he is a traitor from within Aeloria. The lack of supplies, the speed of their arrival—they are already here. But how does an exile command a foreign army? And how does he get that intel?
The thought won't leave me. Queen Draelyss has to be involved.
"Who actually takes these three down?" the General asks as we reach the study.
"I kill Kai," I say simply. "Azrhael is likely handled by Daemon. And the third..."
I glance at Aurora. She beams, lifting her chin with pride. "That is my achievement. I defea—"
"Hey!" Eamon shouts, giving her a shove from behind. "Don't forget me! You'd be mush without my help!"
"Yeah, yeah," she mutters, rolling her eyes. "Eamon... assists."
Maelis looks at them in total shock. "What? How?"
"At first he is no match," Aurora blabs excitedly. "But then he pulls out an artifact—a chain. He gets so strong! He is about to kill me, but then Eamon awakens his mana."
"Awakens his mana?" Malgor asks, staring at the four-year-old in disbelief.
Even I am impressed. A year earlier than me. "Respect, Eamon," I say, and I mean it.
Eamon grins. "I am suddenly so fast! I ram him from the back, and then Aurora gives him the finishing blow!"
Malgor lets out a rough, appreciative laugh. "You truly have extraordinary children, My Lady."
We reach the study. A crowd of servants blocks the door, their faces masks of anxiety.
"OUT OF THE WAY!" Malgor roars.
The crowd parts like a sea of fabric. We step inside.
The sight makes me stall. Daemon is sprawled on the floor. Two figures in white robes and masks kneel over him, their hands glowing with a steady green light.
Healers, I note. Not elemental, not specialized—a sub-type.
Maelis rushes to his side, falling to her knees. "Daemon! Are you okay?"
Daemon's face is sallow, his skin looking like parchment, but his eyes are sharp. "Yes..." he wheezes, his voice weak but firm. "Just a scratch."
General Malgor drops to one knee, his armor clanking. "My King. Your raven arrives in time. We dispatch ten thousand men. The day is won."
"Good," Daemon says, trying to push himself up.
"My Lord—my King," a healer stammers. "You cannot stand! Your wounds are—"
"SILENCE!" Daemon thunders. "You've been at this for hours and I still feel like a piece of shit. Shame on you for such pathetic healing magic."
He looks at Malgor. "What are the losses?"
The General's gaze drops. He suddenly looks small. "Most of Morhenhall's knights are dead, Sire. Only a few survive, and many are too maimed to ever hold a blade again."
Daemon's jaw tightens. Anger radiates from him. Malgor tries to pivot, desperate to lighten the mood. "But they fight like lions! Especially considering they are outnumbered and have no leader."
Daemon's eyes narrow. "Are you trying to tell me something?" he hisses.
"What? No!" Malgor turns pale. "I only mean—I know you have to fight Azrhael! The leader! He must be a monster to—"
"Wait." Daemon's voice goes quiet. It is the sound of a predator closing in. "How do you know the demon's name? And how do you know I am the one who fights him?"
Beads of sweat break out on Malgor's forehead. He flinches and points a shaking finger at me. "The Prince... your son Kael reports it to me."
Daemon's gaze shifts to me. He stands slowly, each step toward me sounding like a hammer blow on an anvil.
"And you, boy..." he says softly. "How do you know his name?"
He stands directly over me, his cold eyes boring into my soul. I cannot tell him the truth. I cannot tell him I eavesdrop or that I am outside. It would be Orin's head on the block, and likely a punishment for me too.
"Kai," I say calmly, meeting his gaze. "The demon tells me. He uses Azrhael's name to intimidate me."
Daemon squints. He stares at me for what felt like an eternity, searching for a crack in my mask. I force my heart to stay steady. I don't blink.
Half a minute passes. A drop of sweat forms at my hairline and crawls down my temple. Daemon follows it with his eyes until it splashes onto the floor. Then he looks back at me.
"Kael..." he begins.
"Enough, Daemon!" Maelis interrupts, stepping between us like a shield. "The General has urgent information for you. That is what matters!"
Daemon exhales a heavy, ragged breath and turns to Malgor. "Is that so?"
"Yes, my King," the Goblin said, his face grave. "But it is for your ears alone."
Daemon nods. "I understand. EVERYONE OUT!" he shouts. "Maelis, take the children."
We leave the room. I don't let out my breath until we are back in the hallway.
Lucky break, I think. But I need to know what that General has to say.