55 vouchers


    “A letter from the south,” Grace’s words almost felt like a thunder against my ears. I turned and stared at her.


    The day had run long. After leaving the mines, I returned to the manor to deal with the stack of reports the council had sent. Most were tedious, supply counts, shifts logged,ints from merchants, but I worked through them until thest signature was done. By the time I finally set the quill down, my head ached, and I wanted nothing more than hot water and silence.


    The bath had done its job. My muscles eased, and for the first time that day, I felt almost light. I slipped into a robe, ready to rest, when the door opened.


    The bathwater had barely dried from my skin when she entered, a folded parchment in her hands.


    I frowned, taking it. “Thank you.”


    “If you need anything else- ”


    “It’s fine Grace, I will call you if there’s something that I need.”


    She bowed and left me to it. I sat at the desk, the candlelight flickering across the wax seal. I didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. My fingers broke the seal anyway, and the neat script confirmed it. Celeste.


    The message was short as expected. Father was in aa. Mother had passed. And Celeste, my dearest younger sister, is now the Alpha of the pack. She demanded soldiers from the north, pressing for aid.


    1 read it twice, then held it over the me. The parchment curled, ckened, and fell into ash in the tray. It’s funny that she didn’t even ask me how I am. Did she even wonder if I was able to reach the north alive?


    Then out of nowhere, the window banged open, thetch mming hard against the wall. Cold night air rushed in, scattering the papers on my desk.


    I spun at once, my hand closing around the dagger lying beside the inkstand. Steel caught thentern light as I brought it up.


    I didn’t know where the sudden courage came from, but a part of me was ready to fight. But I ended up freezing when a familiar figure swung through the frame. Rionded with a thud on the carpet, straightening as if climbing through windows was a normal entrance,


    “Lieutenant?” I hissed. “Why the window? What are you doing?”


    55 voucher


    78


    “I apologize if I startle you, your highness,” He made a quick bow before he straightened, mud clinging to his boots. “Sadly, no one can know I’m here. Physician Mendez asked for you. He’s at the border.”


    My frown deepened. “Why? What happened? Did something happen to Cassian?”


    Rio’s jaw worked before he gave a short nod.


    That was all I needed. I snatched my cloak from the chair and swung it around my shoulders.


    Just as I was about to ask him the details, the door opened. Grace stepped in, her gaze flicking between us. “I heard,” she said. “I’ll guard this room. No one will know the Lady is gone tonight.”


    Her words confirmed what I suspected. They didn’t want the news to spread. If word leaked that the Lord was wounded, rumors would immediately follow. Spies, perhaps already lurked in these halls. The thought made my chest tighten, but I had no time to dwell on it.


    I nodded, tugged my hood over my head, and followed Rio. We slipped back through the window and crossed the grounds quickly. A horse was waiting at the rear postern gate. With the hood drawn low, no one looked at us twice as we rode out.


    The night was cold and by the time we reached the border, the damp air carried the scent of pine, smoke, and iron.


    The border post stood between two worlds. To the north, thend stretched dark and disciplined, lined with patrol routes and the faint gleam of torches. To the west, the terrain shifted, harsher, less guarded, where raiders and poisons came from.


    Wooden cabins lined the approach, each one in but solid, their roofs slick with recent rain. Smoke trailed from a few chimneys, proof that soldiers were off duty inside. At the center stood arger house, sturdier, serving as bothmand post and gathering hall.


    Around it, barracks–style cabins sat close, forming a ring where warriors slept in shifts. The sound of movement was constant, boots on packed earth, weapons clinking as guards cycled


    posts


    “This isn’t the wall,” Rio said as he guided me past the outer cabins. “That lies further north, so there is no need to worry about the tide. The Prince stays here when the threat is closer. He would examine the northern walls from time to time and do a routine check up then today… today<i>…</i>”


    I nced at therge cabin, its windows glowing withmplight.


    “There’s no need to tell me,” I answered.


    :


    <b>78 </b>


    55 vouchers


    Hearing this, Rio led me up the short steps and rapped once before pushing the door


    open.


    Mendez stood inside. His armor was unfastened at the shoulders, blood streaked on his sleeves. The moment he saw me, his expression cased, and he let out a long breath.


    “Thank the goddess,” he said. “You’re here.”


    “What happened?” I asked.


    Mendez shut the door behind us. “The Lord has been shot,” he said without wasting a second.


    I froze. “Shot? You mean by an arrow?”


    “Yes,” Mendez answered. His face was grim, his brows drawn low. “But before we could pull it out, the arrow vanished. Dissolved. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He exhaled hard. “That wasn’t iron or wood. It was witchcraft.”


    My stomach turned. “Where is he?”


    Mendez didn’t hesitate. He turned and led me toward the narrow staircase at the back of the cabin. The wood groaned beneath our steps as we climbed to the second floor. At the top was a single hallway with three doors. Mendez pushed the nearest one open.


    The room inside was simple. A narrow bed pressed against the wall, hardly big enough for Cassian’s frame. A in dresser stood in the corner, and a singlentern burned on the table, its light stretching across the walls.


    As if sensing my thoughts, Mendez spoke. “He doesn’t sleep here,” he said. “The Lord prefers his study downstairs. He only uses this room when we have no choice.”


    I barely heard him. My eyes were already on the bed.


    Cassiany stretched across it, the mattress clearly too small for his size. His arm hung partway off the side, palm open, skin pale. His shirt had been cut away at the chest, and bandages–already soaked through–were wrapped tight around his ribs.


    I stepped closer. “How long has it been?”


    “Since it happened? Hours,” Mendez said. “And the bleeding hasn’t stopped once.” He moved to the bedside, pulling back the cloth to show the wound. The gash was ragged, dark veins spreading out from it like roots. “Normally, he heals faster than any of us. But this-” his jaw clenched, “this is stopping him from healing. It’s eating away at the wound every time his body tries to close it.”


    The sight twisted something in my chest. Cassian’s breaths were shallow, uneven, sweat


    …


    <b>78 </b>


    55 vouchers


    sticking his hair to his forehead. His lips were pale, his jaw locked even in unconsciousness.


    Mendez met my eyes. His voice dropped low. “If nothing changes, he won’tst the night.”