Chapter 0 The fire in the hearth had burned low by midnight, casting trembling shadows across the walls of Prince Elian Vaelthorne’s bedchamber.Nine-year-old Elian lay beneath his heavy blankets, staring into the darkness. Beyond his door, the ancient stones of the royal palace creaked as the night wind swept through the corridors. Once, those familiar sounds had comforted him. Tonight, every whisper of movement made him flinch.Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the old servant’s terrified face. He heard her strangled gasp and remembered the terrible silver light that had filled the corridor before she collapsed.Elian pulled his blankets over his head, but the memory followed him.His mother had not died giving birth to him.He had heard the words himself.For nine years, the royal household had taught him that Queen Seraphine had perished the moment he entered the world. Whenever he asked questions, his tutors offered vague answers, while the servants lowered their eyes and chan

Chapter 2The first night of Elian Vaelthorne's imprisonment taught him something the royal court never had.Silence could be more threatening than a shouted accusation.The eastern tower stood apart from the main palace, connected to the older royal buildings by a narrow stone passage. Its windows were too high to offer a view of the streets below, and its walls were thick enough to swallow the sounds of the city. Once, the tower had housed royal astronomers and scholars. Now, its rooms served a different purpose.They kept inconvenient people out of sight.Elian sat on the edge of a narrow bed, listening to the footsteps of the guards beyond his door.He had been stripped of his sword, his signet, and the small knife he habitually carried beneath his belt. Even the silver clasp that secured his cloak had been taken from him. His captors had left him with a plain tunic, a wool blanket, and a pitcher of water.They had not told him how long he would remain there.That omission trouble

Chapter 4The passage beneath the palace smelled of damp stone and old blood.Elian followed Captain Roderic through the darkness, his bound wrists aching with every step. The violet magic had left his arms weak, and an unpleasant tremor continued to run through his fingers. He tried to hide it whenever Roderic glanced back.He had survived the assassin.He had discovered a secret about his mother.And now he was fleeing the palace where he had spent nineteen years believing he belonged.He was beginning to understand that survival would demand more than courage.It would demand that he learn when not to trust his own judgment.“Keep moving,” Roderic whispered.Ahead, a faint glow appeared around a bend. The passage widened into a low chamber supported by crumbling pillars. Rusted chains hung from the walls, and a narrow staircase climbed toward a wooden hatch.Roderic stopped beneath it.“This opens into an abandoned storehouse,” he said. “Beyond it is the lower district.”“Why does

Chapter 6 Elian read his father's handwriting a third time, hoping the words would change.They did not.Before his twentieth year.He had spent nineteen years believing King Alistair feared nothing. Now a sentence written years earlier suggested the king had been waiting for something inside his own son to awaken.“How long have you had this?” Elian asked.Lysa folded the page carefully. “My mother hid it inside the ledger. I found it after she died.”“Did she know what it meant?”“She knew enough to keep it away from the palace.”Roderic stood beside the warehouse door, listening to the street. “We cannot remain here. Those soldiers will report what happened in the tunnels.”Elian tried to stand. His knees buckled, and he caught the edge of a grain bin.“Then we have a problem,” Lysa said. “Because he can barely walk.”“I can walk.”“You can argue. That's different.”She found a dusty stool and pushed it toward him. Elian sat, too exhausted to object.Roderic approached the table

Chapter 8 The shard lay motionless inside its iron box.Elian stared at it, scarcely breathing.Do not let them open the seventh seat.The woman's voice had vanished, but its warning remained lodged in his mind. He had never heard Queen Seraphine speak. He possessed no memory of her voice, no lullaby or whispered promise against which to measure what he had heard.Yet something inside him had responded.“Play it again,” he whispered.Bram stepped away from the workbench.“That thing isn't a music box, boy.”Elian reached toward the shard.Roderic caught his wrist.“Don't.”“I need to know who spoke.”“And touching it might kill you.”Elian looked at the captain's hand, then reluctantly withdrew his own.Lysa examined the cracked fragment without approaching it.“The voice knew your name,” she said. “But that doesn't prove it belonged to your mother.”“I know.”“Do you?”Elian swallowed his frustration.He wanted to believe Seraphine had somehow reached across nineteen years to warn h