A day passed, and Nahar's injuries were slowly healing. Solomon's devotion never wavered; he spent every waking moment by her side. Henry, sensing his brother's deepening feelings, gave them space, opting to spend quality time with his wife instead.
Nahar stirred, her eyes fluttering open. A faint moan escaped her lips as she tried to sit up, her body still tender from the ordeal. Solomon burst into the room, his face etched with concern, as if he had been waiting just outside the door.
"Are you alright?" Solomon asked, his voice laced with worry.
Nahar's gaze locked onto his, and she felt an overwhelming sense of safety. "I am fine, it's just a little pain," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Solomon's eyes searched hers, his expression softening. It was undeniable; he had fallen deeply in love with Nahar. Their feelings were growing, tender and fragile, like the first blooms of spring.
"You need to rest," Solomon urged, his hand gently guiding her back onto the bed.
Nahar's face clouded, a hint of regret flickering across her features. "I'll rest, but first, I need to speak to you and Henry about something," she said, her voice tinged with determination.
Solomon's brow furrowed. "What is it?" he asked, his eyes probing hers.
Nahar's gaze faltered, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's about Persia."
Solomon's expression turned grave, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew Nahar's past was complicated, but he had yet to grasp the full extent of her connection to the Persian Empire.
"Rest for now," Solomon said, his tone gentle but firm. "The servants will bring your meal. We can discuss it after you've had something to eat."
With a wave of his hand, he summoned the maid waiting outside the chamber. "Bring food for Nahar, and ensure it's something gentle on her stomach."
The maid curtsied, disappearing to fulfill Solomon's request.
Nahar's eyes never left Solomon's face, her thoughts swirling with the secrets she harbored. She knew the conversation to come would change everything.
As they waited for the food to arrive, Henry entered the room, his expression curious. "How are you feeling, Nahar?" he asked, his voice warm.
Nahar managed a weak smile. "Better, thank you, Henry."
The tension in the room was palpable, a sense of foreboding lingering like the shadows on the walls.
When the maid returned with Nahar's meal, Solomon helped her sit up, supporting her as she ate. The silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken questions and concerns.
Once Nahar finished her meal, Solomon nodded. "Now, tell us what's troubling you."
Nahar's gaze drifted between Solomon and Henry, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's about Persia, General Nikos... and my past."
Nahar's voice trembled as she began to unravel the tangled threads of her past. Solomon and Henry listened intently, their faces etched with concern.
"It started after the massacre in Aethoria," Nahar said, her eyes clouding over. "The Persians told me Emberhaven was responsible for the slaughter of my people. They convinced me that your kingdom was behind the brutal killings."
Solomon's expression darkened, his jaw clenched in anger. Henry's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with the implications.
"I believed them," Nahar continued, her voice laced with regret. "I thought Emberhaven was to blame for the destruction of my home and the death of my family. The Persians fueled my hatred, using it to manipulate me."
Solomon's grip on Nahar's hand tightened. "We would never harm innocent people, Nahar. We're not capable of such atrocities."
Nahar's gaze locked onto his, her eyes filling with tears. "I know that now. But back then, I was consumed by grief and anger. The Persians exploited my emotions, turning me against Emberhaven."
Henry's voice was gentle. "What changed your mind, Nahar?"
Nahar took a deep breath. "Marcellus, king of Zorvath. He was just a pawn in the Persians' game. They used him to try and kill you, Solomon, and destroy Emberhaven's alliance with any other kingdom."
Solomon's eyes widened. "You mean the assassination attempt?"
Nahar nodded. "Yes. But it was never Marcellus's idea. The Persians orchestrated everything, using him to further their own agenda."
Henry's face turned grim. "And what of their plans now?"
Nahar's expression turned somber. "I don't know much, but I overheard General Nikos discussing an attack on Avalon. They're planning something, but I don't know when or how."
Solomon's jaw clenched. "We'll increase our defenses and inform our allies. We won't be caught off guard."
Henry nodded. "We need to uncover more about the Persians' plans. Do you know anyone who might be willing to cooperate?"
Nahar thought for a moment. "There's one person... a servant who worked in the Persian palace. She might be willing to share information if approached carefully."
Solomon's eyes locked onto Nahar's. "We'll find her. And we'll stop the Persians before they can harm anyone else."
As the truth finally began to unravel, Nahar felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She had found allies, people who believed her and would help her bring down the true culprits.
But in the shadows, General Thorn watched, his loyalty to Persia unwavering. The Raven's Wing was still in motion, and Nahar's revelation had only strengthened his resolve.