Riven waited impatiently, constantly glancing up at the growing clouds in the distance. Myelia’s powers only worked on clear days and if she wanted to get Elias his proof, it had to be tonight. The low rumble of distant thunder gnawed at Riven’s nerves, and she crossed her arms, hoping the weather would hold long enough for her plan to work. Her window for sneaking into House Illirian was growing narrower by the minute, and if she failed tonight, she knew another chance wouldn’t come before the deadline for the tournaments had passed.

“M’lady,” relief flooded Riven’s body as she heard Elias’s voice, turning to face him as he finally approached her through the narrow streets. He was dressed like a servant just as she asked and he took a moment to take in her own shabby appearance. “I assume there is a reason for our dress?”

“A precaution,” Riven smiled, glancing at the still-clouded sky. “House Illirian is famously suspicious of strangers, so it’s best we appear as inconspicuous as possible. Myelia’s magic only works on clear days so–”

“Wait, you are going to use her magic freely?” Elias grabbed Riven’s wrist and it took her a moment to register his concern. Right; for those who wielded Liora or Noctyra’s magic, the goddess exacted a price for each use, almost like a toll for calling on divine power. However, thanks to Myelia being a minor goddess, Riven was actually helping her by using her magic, and the only constraint the goddess had given her was that it had to be in the form of a wish.

Riven let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling her wrist free from his grasp. “Myelia’s blessings come with a different set of rules, Elias. I won’t be harming myself and even if I was, it would be a small price if it helps me survive.”

Elias seemed ready to say something else, but Riven turned away, not liking the way his concern made her heart pound. Maybe, it was just nice to hear someone voice their concern so plainly instead of doing it in a disguised manner like her family did.

“We don’t have much time, so let’s get you your proof,” Riven insisted, taking a deep breath as she weaved her fingers together. “I wish Elias and I were invisible to all who don’t know us.”

A soft silver glow illuminated the space and Riven smiled, motioning for Elias to follow her. She had made sure to ask Myelia how the wish needed to be worded in order to work, wanting to make sure she didn’t exceed what the goddess was currently capable of. While her name was definitely whispered more often, her powers still held limits, especially when used for something as intricate as invisibility.

The journey was brief, each street and narrow alley bringing them closer to the high, ivy-wrapped walls surrounding the estate. The house loomed ahead, a formidable structure of dark stone with tall, guarded gates. Though the main doors were secured and watched by stoic, armored sentries, Riven knew that slipping past unnoticed would be easy enough under the magic’s effect. What concerned her more was whether they’d find a secluded spot inside to listen without Calia or Devon sensing their presence.

As they neared the estate walls, Elias fell in step beside her, his gaze fixed on the towering edifice. “You’ve been here before?”

“Only in passing,” Riven dismissed, hoping it would be believable. Of course, she knew the layout perfectly thanks to the mansion basically being Calia’s base of operations and not thanks to any visit on her own. “Her Imperial Majesty will be in the drawing room.”

“You know if anyone heard you call her that, you could be killed,” Elias remarked quietly, and Riven paused, her hand hovering over the servant’s entrance to the house. Elias’s words settled heavily between them, and she turned to meet his gaze, her expression steady despite the quickened beat of her heart.

“Well, it’s a good thing no one is listening, isn’t it?” she replied softly, voice laced with quiet resolve. She knew she had no allies here, at least not yet, but what was certain was her own purpose. She was not going to lay down and waste away in some jail cell, not again.

Riven took a deep breath, pressing down the handle and feeling it yield with a soft creak, letting them slip inside into a dim corridor lined with the faded elegance typical of House Illirian. The narrow passage led directly into the servants’ quarters, a route that bypassed the main halls and led deeper into the estate.

Once inside, they moved quickly, the weight of their silence filling the narrow space between them. Every so often, Elias’s presence brushed close, his footsteps almost too quiet as they mirrored hers and every time, sent a faint shiver down her spine. His quiet, steady pace reminded her of his skill, the way he moved with such ease through the shadows, as though he belonged there. The space between them felt like a barely held breath, every step heightening her awareness of his proximity.

They reached a point where the hall narrowed even further, bending sharply before it opened into an alcove overlooking the main floor. Voices filtered up from below, and Riven instantly recognized Devon’s calm tones mingling with Calia’s softer voice. She leaned forward carefully, listening, with Elias shifting beside her to get a better vantage point, the brush of his sleeve grazing her hand as he steadied himself. She bit down on the surprising warmth that rose in her cheeks, dismissing it as adrenaline rather than anything else.

“...and if the emperor truly believes he can keep his blood-soaked throne without resistance, he’s far more foolish than I thought,” Devon was talking, and Riven felt her stomach twist at his confidence. But he had always been calm, a quality that had always served him well as Calia’s most trusted advisor. He was exactly as he’d been written. “Lord Illirian is far from the only one awaiting your return, Calia.”

Calia’s voice responded, hushed but clear. “Earl Illirian has agreed to sponsor my entry, though I’ll be on my own to win the matches. Thanks to Noctyra’s magic, Lirian won’t suspect anything until I demand my empire back.”

Riven couldn’t help her slight smile; reading those words had always made her so proud of Calia, a princess who loved her home more than anything and was willing to do whatever it took to rule it proudly and fairly. She had lost her family at such a young age, and that fierce loyalty to Vassoria was what had made her such a captivating character in The Silver Throne. But now, hearing those same words from Calia herself in this shadowed room, Riven felt their weight, the harsh certainty behind them. A vow of defiance against the very court that had betrayed her and her family.

Beside her, Elias’s gaze narrowed, his focus intent on the scene unfolding below. The subtle shift of his stance brought him closer, just a breath of space separating them. His posture was tense, as though weighing each word for hidden implications. Riven’s heart thrummed faster, conscious of his presence in a way that distracted her from Calia’s words for a moment, grounding her even amid the tension.

“Are we clear on our strategy?” Devon’s voice broke through, each word deliberate. “The tournament must be flawless. Only if you reach the finals will Lirian’s attention be drawn, and by then, it’ll be too late for him to react. We cannot risk him suspecting anything before you win.”

“Let me worry about my uncle; I need you to worry about building my supporters and army,” Calia insisted, casually dismissing Devon as she always did. She also dismissed his care for her until the moment he sacrificed himself, finally forced to confront the emotions that were always there. “There are too many wild cards on the table, like that new duke my uncle brought from Qatia.”

“Well, I can tell you his son holds no love for the emperor, regardless of what his father may think,” Devon chuckled, and Riven found herself listening intently, his words tugging at her curiosity. Beside her, Elias shifted slightly, leaning closer to hear, and she could feel the faint warmth from his arm next to hers.

“Oh?”

“Kaelen might be useful,” Devon continued, his tone contemplative. “but he’s guarded. He won’t throw in his lot easily, especially with ties to Vassoria still so uncertain.”

“Then I’ll have to make him certain,” Calia stated plainly, and Riven was surprised when she felt Elias’s hand over her mouth, pulling them down as footsteps came from the hall behind them. Riven’s pulse quickened as Elias gently guided her down, both of them shifting deeper into the shadows with barely a whisper of movement. His hand remained firm over her mouth, and she froze, her senses narrowing down to his steady breath beside her and the warmth of his fingers on her face.

She held her breath as footsteps passed close by, a pair of guards exchanging words in low, casual tones as they wandered down the corridor. They were speaking of the tournament, the favored competitors, and of Calia’s expected victory, the kind of talk that might make it past the gates but always glossed over her true intentions. Riven’s heartbeat thundered in her ears, her senses heightened as she clung to the stillness beside Elias. When the guards’ voices faded, Elias finally lowered his hand, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin as he released her.

“Apologies,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, though his touch left a lingering warmth on her cheek. His gaze met hers, and in the dimness, she caught a hint of wry amusement mixed with something else, something unspoken that flickered across his features for just a breath longer than usual. “I trust your magic but…that was closer than I’d like.”

“Yeah,” Riven swallowed, nodding as Elias slowly pulled her to her feet. The tension of the close call lingered, and Riven felt her pulse still racing from the danger.

“We need to leave,” Elias said quietly, his voice a shade softer than his usual tone. “This is more than enough proof to earn you my support.”

Riven’s heart soared and before she could think about it, she threw her arms around Elias, hugging him tightly. It was such a relief to hear his agreement to help her and for a moment, she let herself enjoy the solid reassurance of his presence, feeling a genuine warmth that felt unfamiliar but welcome. For a heartbeat, he hesitated, his arms lifting before they settled around her shoulders with a careful, almost protective steadiness.

“Myelia’s chosen!” Calia’s voice pulled Riven from the moment and she quickly pulled herself away from Elia’s embrace.

And found herself meeting Calia’s cold blue gaze.