The Hive's headquarters was a sprawling labyrinth of subterranean tunnels and forgotten wine cellars beneath the city's industrial district. On any other night, the heavy scent of damp earth and tallow candles felt like home—the only sanctuary I had ever known. Tonight, the air felt like a hand tightening around my throat.
As Kaelen and I descended the spiral stone stairs, the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of the training pits echoed through the halls like a slow, dying heartbeat. The atmosphere was stagnant, thick with the sour sweat of men who lived and died by the blade.
"You're quiet," Kaelen remarked. His voice bounced off the moisture-slicked walls, hollow and prying. He didn't look at me, but I could feel his gaze tracing the rigid line of my shoulders. "Usually, a failed hunt makes you irritable. Tonight, you're just... gone."
"I'm calculating the fallout," I replied, my voice as cold as the stone beneath my boots. "Califer doesn't take 'she wasn't there' as a valid answer."
"Then let's hope your acting is as sharp as your steel."
We reached the heavy iron-bound doors of the Inner Sanctum. Two enforcers, their faces obscured by the black cloth of lower initiates, stepped aside without a word. They didn't fear me—not the girl beneath the mask. They feared the Reaper, Califer's hand-picked shadow.
The doors groaned open to reveal a room of velvet and violence. Maps of the kingdom were pinned to the walls with throwing knives, their blades glinting in the low light. At the center sat Califer, his graying hair slicked back, polishing a silver coin with a piece of silk.
He didn't look up. "The High-Valleys are beautiful this time of year," he said, his voice a smooth, cultured purr that set my teeth on edge. "I trust the view from the Dresvan balcony was worth the trek, Lysia."
My blood went cold. He knew I'd lingered.
"The perimeter was tighter than anticipated," I said, stepping into the circle of amber light cast by his desk lamp. I felt Silas's secret—the truth about the Aegis Scroll—burning in my chest like a swallowed coal. "The princess was moved before we breached the east wing."
Califer finally looked up. His eyes were like chips of obsidian, devoid of warmth. He set the coin down on the mahogany surface with a soft clink.
"Moved," he repeated. "Or perhaps, shielded?"
He rose slowly, walking around the desk with the predatory grace of a wolf. He stopped inches from me, his presence looming. This was the man who had pulled me from the wreckage of my life; the man who had fed me when I was starving and taught me to turn my grief into a weapon.
"I heard an interesting report from one of our scouts," Califer whispered, reaching out to trace the jawline of my porcelain mask with a calloused thumb. "He saw a figure on that balcony. A man. Not a guard. Someone... familiar."
I held his gaze, forcing my breathing to remain shallow and rhythmic. One slip, one tremor in my pulse, and I would be joining my parents in the dirt.
"A Shield of the Unseen," I said, choosing a half-truth to bait him. "He intercepted me. We fought. I barely escaped before the Guard's reinforcements arrived."
Califer's hand dropped. His expression shifted from suspicion to a dark, hungry curiosity. "A Shield? Here in the capital?" He turned back to the map on his wall, his fingers hovering over the Dresvan estate. "If the Unseen are moving, then the Scroll is even more powerful than the texts of the Old King suggested."
He turned back to me, a thin, cruel smile stretching his lips. "You did well to survive an encounter with them, Lysia. But if they are involved, we can no longer afford subtlety. Kaelen, prepare the vanguard. We're going to burn the truth out of the Princess's protectors."
As Kaelen bowed and turned to leave, Califer leaned in close, his voice a freezing draft against my ear. "And Lysia? Scrub the sandalwood scent off your cloak. It doesn't suit a Reaper."
The door thudded shut behind me, leaving me in the dim corridor with a heart that finally dared to hammer against my ribs. The scent of Silas—sandalwood and mountain air—clung to my fibers like a death warrant.
I didn't head for the barracks. Instead, I ducked into a disused drainage alcove, pulling the heavy cloak from my shoulders. My hands shook as I fumbled for a flint. I couldn't just wash it; Califer's nose was as keen as his mind. I struck the flint, watching the sparks catch the edge of the expensive wool.
As the flames licked upward, consuming the evidence of my encounter with the enemy, I realized I wasn't just burning a garment. I was burning the last bridge to the girl I used to be.
"You're lying to him."
I spun around, a daggers-width from Kaelen's throat before I realized he hadn't left for the vanguard at all. He stood in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the smoldering pile of fabric.
"I'm doing my job," I hissed.
"Your job is to kill the Unseen, not smell like them," Kaelen stepped forward, the firelight dancing in his eyes. He didn't look angry—he looked terrified. "If he finds out you let that man live, the 'Reaper' will be the next one on the butcher's block. Why did you do it, Lysia?"
I looked at the ashes, thinking of Silas's eyes and the way he had spoken of the Scroll—not as a weapon, but as a seal.
"Because," I whispered, the smoke stinging my eyes, "the Lion thinks he knows everything. But for the first time, I think the Lion is hunting the wrong prey."
Kaelen stared at me for a long beat, then reached out and kicked the remaining embers into the drain. "The vanguard moves at dawn. If you're going to betray him, do it fast. Because tomorrow, there won't be anything left of that estate to hide in."
He turned and vanished into the darkness of the tunnels, leaving me alone with the scent of smoke and the weight of a secret that was beginning to feel like a revolution.