Kaelen read the letters in silence.
He sat at his desk in the private study, the eight sheets spread before him, his face completely still. Orion and Elara stood against the wall, watching, waiting. The only sound was the crackle of the fire and the occasional turn of a page.
When he finished, he sat back and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he looked at them.
"Where did you find these?"
"Lady Mira's rooms," Elara said. "In a safe behind her desk."
"You broke into a council member's private chambers."
"Yes."
Kaelen's expression didn't change. "That's treason. If she found out, she could have you both arrested."
"She's the traitor," Orion said. "Not us."
"She's a traitor we can't prove anything against yet. These letters prove she's in contact with someone in the north. They don't prove she's working against the crown." He picked up one of the letters. "Your cousin, E. That could mean anything. A distant relative. A childhood friend. Someone she grew up with in the northern provinces before she came to court."
"You don't believe that."
"No. I don't." He set the letter down. "But belief isn't proof. And without proof, moving against a council member would tear the court apart. Her faction would rally behind her. The northern provinces would cry persecution. We'd have a civil war before the snow melted."
"So we do nothing?" Elara's voice was sharp.
"We do something. We do it carefully." He stood and walked to the fire, staring into the flames. "Lady Mira doesn't know you have these letters. That's our advantage. She'll keep writing to her cousin. She'll keep reporting. And we'll keep reading."
"You want us to put them back?"
"I want you to copy them. Every word, every mark, every crease. Then return the originals exactly as you found them. She can't know we're watching." He turned to face them. "From now on, you two are my eyes inside this court. You'll watch her. You'll watch everyone she talks to. You'll note every letter that arrives, every messenger she meets, every private conversation. And you'll report everything to me."
Orion nodded. Elara nodded. Kaelen looked at them both for a long moment, then crossed the room and pulled them into one of his rare embraces.
"You're brave," he said quietly. "Braver than I was at your age. Braver than I am now, maybe." He stepped back. "Go. Return the letters. And don't tell anyone—not your mother, not your tutors, not your closest friends. This stays between us."
They left. The corridors were empty at this hour, the palace sleeping. Elara led the way back to Lady Mira's rooms, her footsteps silent on the stone. Orion followed, the copies of the letters tucked inside his tunic, the originals in his sister's careful hands.
The lock took longer this time. Elara's fingers were shaking slightly, though she'd never admit it. When the door finally opened, they slipped inside and replaced the letters exactly as they'd found them—stack in the safe, safe locked, everything untouched.
Back in the corridor, Elara let out a long breath.
"That was stupid," she whispered. "That was really, really stupid."
"It worked."
"This time." She grabbed his arm. "If we get caught doing something like that again, Father won't be able to protect us. You know that, right? Even the king can't stop the court from demanding justice if we're caught breaking into a council member's rooms."
"I know."
"So we don't get caught." She squeezed his arm, then released it. "Come on. I need sleep."
---
The next few weeks were the strangest of Orion's life.
On the surface, everything was normal. Lessons with Master Varen. Training with Captain Dorn. Council meetings in the great hall, where Lady Mira sat in her usual place, offering reasonable opinions in her calm voice. She smiled at Orion when their eyes met. Once, she even complimented his progress in history.
Below the surface, nothing was normal.
Orion watched her constantly. He noted who she talked to before meetings—usually Lord Cassian, sometimes the treasury minister. He noted who sought her out afterward—lesser nobles from the north, mostly, seeking her favor. He noted her expressions, her tone, the way her eyes moved around the room.
She was always watching too. Always aware of who was where, who was speaking to whom, who might be forming alliances. It was like looking in a mirror.
Elara worked her network. The daughter of Lady Mira's maid reported that her mother had seen letters arriving from the north, always with the same seal. A young guard whose sister served in Lady Mira's household mentioned that the lady had been receiving more visitors than usual, late at night, people who came and went without being announced.
They brought everything to Kaelen. He listened, nodded, added the information to a growing file in his study. He didn't share what he was planning. He didn't share what Corvis might have found in the north. He just listened and stored and waited.
Winter came in full force. Snow buried the city again, deeper than the year before. The poor suffered again, though this time Kaelen had prepared—extra grain in the storehouses, patrols to keep order, shelters for those who needed them. It wasn't enough. It never was. But it was better.
Orion turned eleven. His mother cried again. His father gave him a set of maps—detailed drawings of the entire kingdom, including the northern territories beyond the mountains. Elara gave him a new knife, smaller than the one she carried, small enough to hide in his boot.
"For options," she said.
He wore it every day after that.
---
The news came on a night like any other.
Orion was in his room, reviewing the day's observations, when a knock sounded at his door. Not Elara's knock—this was heavier, more formal. He opened it to find a guard he didn't recognize.
"Your Highness. The king requests your presence in his study. Immediately."
The guard's face was carefully blank. That meant something bad. Orion grabbed his boots and followed.
Kaelen was alone in the study when Orion arrived. He stood by the fire, staring into the flames, a piece of paper in his hand. He didn't turn when Orion entered.
"Corvis is dead."
The words hung in the air. Orion felt them settle into his chest like stones.
"All of them?"
"All of them." Kaelen turned. The paper trembled slightly in his grip. "A trader found their bodies three days north of the mountains. They'd been ambushed. Killed where they stood. The trader buried them and rode straight here."
"Did he see the city? Newhaven?"
"If he did, he didn't write it down. This message came through three different hands before it reached me." He set the paper on his desk. "Someone knew they were coming. Someone was waiting."
"Lady Mira."
"Probably. Maybe. We don't know for certain." He rubbed his face. He looked older than he had a month ago. Older than he had a year ago. "What we know is that our enemies are real, they're organized, and they're willing to kill anyone we send north."
"So we stop sending people?"
"We stop sending people they can identify as ours." He crossed to a cabinet and pulled out a decanter of something dark. He poured himself a glass, then offered one to Orion. Orion shook his head. "I need someone who can get into Newhaven without being recognized. Someone they won't expect."
"You're not sending me."
"No. I'm not sending you." He drank. "I'm thinking about your sister."
Orion's blood went cold. "No."
"She's smart. She's capable. She's not known outside the palace—the northerners won't know her face." Kaelen held up a hand. "I'm not sending her tomorrow. I'm not sending her at all if there's another way. But I need you to understand—if it comes to that, if we have no other choice, she might be the only one who can do this."
"There's always another choice."
"Is there?" Kaelen set down his glass. "We've been reacting to them for a hundred years. They killed my father. They tried to kill me. They have someone inside my court feeding them information. And we don't even know their names." He looked at Orion. "At some point, reacting stops being enough. At some point, we have to act."
Orion didn't have an answer for that. He stood in the firelight and felt the weight of everything pressing down on him—the kingdom, the conspiracy, the possibility of losing Elara.
"She's my sister."
"I know." Kaelen's voice was soft. "She's my daughter. You think I want to send her into danger? You think I'd trade her for anything?" He shook his head. "But I'm the king. And the king doesn't get to choose what he sacrifices. He only gets to choose when."
They stood in silence for a long time. Then Orion turned and left.
---
Elara took the news better than he expected.
She sat on her bed, listening without interruption, her face thoughtful. When he finished, she was quiet for a moment. Then she shrugged.
"Father's right. I'm the obvious choice."
"You're not going."
"Orion—"
"I said you're not going." His voice came out harder than he intended. "I'll find another way. I'll go myself. I'll—"
"You'll what? You're eleven. You've never been outside the city. You'd last three days." She stood and crossed to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "I'm fifteen. I've trained with Dorn longer than you. I've mapped every passage in this palace. I know how to move without being seen, how to fight without being caught, how to survive." She squeezed. "If someone has to go, it should be me."
"Then no one goes. We find another way."
"Like what? Wait for them to come to us? Let them kill Father and you and Mother and then take the throne?" She shook her head. "That's not a plan. That's just dying slower."
He wanted to argue. He wanted to lock her in her room and throw away the key. But he couldn't. Because she was right, and he hated it.
"When?"
"Not yet. Father said not yet. Maybe never, if something changes." She pulled him into a hug. "Stop looking like I'm already dead. I'm not going anywhere tonight."
He held onto her tighter than he should have. She let him.
---
The winter dragged on. Orion watched Lady Mira. He went to council meetings. He trained with Dorn until his arms gave out. He read the Shadow Book with his father, learning secrets that made his skin crawl.
And he waited. They all waited.
In the third month of winter, something changed.
A messenger arrived at the palace gates. Not from the north—from the east. A delegation from the Eastern Kingdoms, requesting an audience with the king. Urgent business, they said. Matters of mutual concern.
Orion was in the council chamber when the message arrived. He saw his father's face shift—a flicker of something that might have been hope, might have been fear.
"Send them in," Kaelen said. "I want the prince present for this."
The delegation was small. Three people: an older man in rich robes, a younger woman who looked like his daughter, and a guard who stood by the door and said nothing. The older man bowed low.
"Your Majesty. I am Ambassador Velin, representing the Eastern Kingdoms. I bring urgent news." He paused. "There is an army gathering in the north. Not large—not yet. But growing. They fly a banner we have not seen before. A mountain with a star above it."
Orion felt the words like a physical blow. Beside him, he heard Elara's sharp intake of breath.
The mountain seal. The letters. Newhaven.
"Who leads them?" Kaelen's voice was steady.
"That we do not know. But they are moving south. Slowly, carefully, as if they are waiting for something." The ambassador's eyes flicked to Orion for just a moment. "We thought you should know."
Kaelen nodded slowly. "You were right to come. You'll be given rooms in the palace. We'll speak more in the morning."
The delegation bowed and withdrew. The moment the door closed, Elara was on her feet.
"An army. They have an army."
"We don't know how large," Kaelen said. "We don't know how close. We don't know anything yet."
"We know they're coming." Orion's voice was quiet. "We know they've been planning this for a hundred years. We know they have someone inside this court telling them everything." He looked at his father. "And we know Corvis is dead."
Kaelen met his eyes. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then the king stood. "Elara. Find out everything you can about this army. Talk to the ambassador, talk to his daughter, talk to anyone who might know something. Orion. Come with me. We have work to do."
They left the chamber together, father and son, walking through corridors that suddenly felt less like home and more like a fortress under siege.
Somewhere to the north, an army was gathering. Somewhere in the palace, a traitor was watching. And somewhere in the mountains, a cousin Orion had never met was preparing to take everything he had.
The waiting was over