The King's Guard

Chapter 35

The archives smelled of dust and old parchment, the air heavy with the faint tang of oil lamps. Rows of shelves stretched into darkness, scrolls and ledgers packed tight. The only sound was Kael’s boots brushing against the stone floor.

Kyna was already there, waiting in a narrow aisle, a lamp set low.

“You came,” she said.

“You asked,” Kael replied.

She tilted her head, watching him step closer. “That simple for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You never hesitate. People usually want reasons. They want promises, or at least reassurances. You don’t ask for any of that.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “I don’t waste words. If you wanted me here, you had a reason. That’s enough.”

Her lips curved faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t ask many questions, do you?”

“I ask enough.”

“Enough to keep yourself alive, you mean?”

“That, and enough to know when someone’s hiding something.” His gaze lingered on her hand, half-hidden in her cloak. “Like now.”

Kyna exhaled, the breath catching faintly in her throat. “Then tonight you’ll get more answers than you wanted.” She drew a scroll from her cloak, bound in dark ribbon stamped with a sigil of spiral and crossed lines.

Kael recognised it instantly. His voice dropped. “The same mark as on the well.”

Kyna nodded, eyes lowering. “My mother’s seal.”

He studied it in silence, then looked back at her. “You shouldn’t be showing me this.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted. “But if I don’t, no one else will. And you…” She broke off, searching his face. “You’re the only one I trust enough to see it.”

Kael folded his arms. “Trust is dangerous. What if I walk out of here and tell the wrong person?”

“Would you?” she asked quietly.

He held her stare for a long moment before answering. “No.”

Something eased in her shoulders, though the weight of the scroll seemed to drag her hands down. “Then hear me out. That’s all I’m asking.”

“So what am I supposed to see?”

She unrolled the parchment slowly, careful not to let the edges crack. Inside were records of names, assignments, coded notes. At the bottom, one signature: Virell.

He recognized the surname.

Kael frowned. “Your relative?”

“Yes. My father,” Kyna said softly. “Commander Virell. He led a covert division for the Archon. Political assassins. They called it the Silent Crest.”

Kael’s voice dropped. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because the same man who taught me to read battle reports at ten also taught me how the Archon bends loyalty until it breaks,” Kyna said, her tone steady but weighted. “He believed the Corps served the realm. The Archon believed the Corps served him. And in the end, belief was the line that broke him.”

Kael scanned the scroll again, eyes lingering on the coded names and marks. “So your father opposed him?”

Kyna’s jaw tightened, a muscle flickering there. “He vanished. Official record says he fell in the field… an ambush, a skirmish gone wrong.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Too neat. Too convenient. My mother told me otherwise. She said someone in power ordered it.”

Kael lifted his eyes to hers. “And you trust her word over the record?”

“She doesn’t lie,” Kyna said firmly. “She can’t afford to. Every word she gives me has weight. And this one, this one carried grief she couldn’t fake.”

The silence stretched, thick as the dust between shelves. The lamp flame hissed faintly, its glow painting the edge of Kyna’s cheek in tired gold.

Kael finally asked, “Where does Jared fit into this?”

Kyna stepped closer, lowering her voice as if the shelves themselves had ears. “Jared’s family: House Varion were the Archon’s blade-arm. When they wanted something hidden, they buried it. When they wanted someone gone, House Varion found the knife to do it. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t need to. That’s the kind of loyalty the higher authority prizes most.”

Kael’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders tensed, his fingers brushing unconsciously at the hilt on his belt. “And now Jared’s at my side in every exam. Every spar. Every assignment.”

Kyna gave a short, humourless smile. “Exactly. He’s there not just to fight beside you, but to watch you. To measure you. That’s why I said you should know.”

Kael studied her, weighing each word. “Why tell me now? You’ve held this for how long?”

Her gaze flicked to the scroll, then back to him. “Because you’re being tested, Kael. Harder than the rest of us. I can see it. The rosters shifted to push you into the worst positions, the assignments no one else gets, the instructors watching you when they think you’re not looking.” She tapped the parchment with a finger, the sound sharp in the stillness. “It’s the same playbook they used against my father. Step by step.”

Kael let out a slow breath, the weight of it settling in his chest. “You think I’ll end like him?”

“I think,” Kyna said softly, “that you need to decide whether you’re fighting for the Archon, or for yourself. Because if you don’t make that choice, they’ll make it for you.”

He stared at the scroll again, tracing the loops of the coded signatures, the deliberate strokes of Virell’s name. “And you? Who are you fighting for?”

Her answer came quiet, but firm, the kind of truth that didn’t need volume to cut deep. “For truth. For the ones who didn’t get to stand in that memorial square. For the ones whose names were never even carved in iron.”

Kael closed the scroll with care, then handed it back. “You realise if anyone finds you with this…”

“They won’t,” she cut in, her voice sharper now. “I’m not reckless.”

“Bringing me here says otherwise.”

“No,” Kyna said, holding his gaze, eyes unblinking, “it says I trust you more than him.”

Kael’s jaw tightened, the line of his shoulders stiff. “You shouldn’t.”

She tucked the scroll away into her cloak, the motion precise, practiced. “Maybe not. But if I can’t trust anyone, then I’m already finished.”

A pause hung heavy between them. Then Kael asked, “Why me? Out of all of them, why me?”

Kyna tilted her head slightly, studying him as though weighing her answer. “Because you don’t flinch when the truth is ugly. Most do. Most turn away, or pretend they didn’t hear. But you…” She gave a faint shake of her head. “You look it in the eye.”

Kael looked past her then, to the shadows stretching between the shelves, long and silent. His voice was low, steady. “You should leave before someone notices.”

“I will,” she said, stepping back, her boots whispering against the stone. “But remember what I’ve told you. Watch Jared. And watch the Archon even closer.”

She turned and disappeared between the rows.

Kael stood there for a long moment, the silence pressing. Then he pulled his journal from his cloak and scribbled quickly.

> Virell – father of Kyna. Silent Crest. Assassins under Archon. Vanished = executed? House Varion connected. Jared complicit?

His pen stopped. He added another line.

> If they’re testing me like they tested Virell—then how far will they push?

The lamp flickered. Somewhere in the dark, he thought he heard footsteps that weren’t his own.

Kael closed the journal. He snuffed the flame and slipped out, his mind still grinding on the words Kyna left behind.

But as he stepped into the corridor, Jared was there.

Leaning against the wall, arms folded, smirk faint in the half-light.

“Late-night reading?” Jared asked.

Kael froze, every muscle tense.

Jared tilted his head. “Careful, Estaran. Some books bite back.”

Kael didn’t answer.

Jared’s smirk widened just slightly before he walked off, boots echoing in the silence.

Kael stayed behind, pulse steady but hard, one thought burning.

He knows.