Chapter: The Threads of Trust
The climb to Ragnar's upper district was quiet, save for the rhythmic tap of boots against stone. The city's usual golden glow had faded into the softer hues of twilight, but something darker moved at the edges.
They reached the grand entrance of Ragnar's Citadel. White-and-gold pillars rose high, framed by banners bearing the symbol of the city—a radiant sun split down the middle by a sharp crimson line. Once pristine, the pillars now carried faint streaks of red, like veins of rot creeping beneath marble skin. The corruption had found its way here too.
The grand double doors groaned as they opened, revealing Darya waiting at the top of the stairs. Her silhouette stood framed by the lanternlight from within, the glow outlining her crimson robes like blood against fire. Her gaze was steady, unblinking, and it landed squarely on Amara. For a moment, it didn't feel like a leader greeting a soldier—it felt like a hunter tracking prey.
"Amara," Darya called, her voice as smooth as polished glass. "Come."
Amara swallowed, tilting her head toward Kael and Elira. "Find them a place to sleep," she muttered, nodding toward Aiden's group. Her eyes met Rowan's for half a second longer than she meant to. "Keep them out of trouble."
Kael frowned but nodded. "I'll see to it."
"Come on, outsiders," Elira called, waving them forward with the tilt of her head. "Let's find you a corner to keep warm."
Aiden didn't move immediately, his gaze flicking from Amara to Darya like he was weighing something. He glanced at Sylva, who gave a small, knowing nod. Then, he followed.
"See you soon, glowbug," Rowan said, offering Amara a sharp grin.
Amara didn't respond, her eyes already locked on Darya. She stepped forward, up the stairs, her legs heavier with every step. Her heart drummed in her ears, but she kept her steps steady. She had to.
When she reached the top, Darya turned with a smile that was too soft, too kind. Her eyes flicked toward Aiden and his group just before the doors began to close. Her gaze lingered on Sylva for a heartbeat longer than anyone else.
Darya's lips curved into a slow smile. Her gaze shifted back to Amara. "Walk with me, child."
The citadel's grand hall was as vast as it was silent. Golden light poured from above in long, thin rays, but the shadows didn't behave as they should. They swayed at the edges of the room like living things, shifting where the light couldn't reach. The air was heavy, thicker than it should have been, like walking through water instead of air.
Darya's footsteps echoed softly as she walked ahead, her pace slow and measured. Her hands clasped behind her back, robes flowing like a trail of blood on marble. Amara followed, eyes straight but senses sharp.
"I hear whispers," Darya said softly, her voice barely above a murmur, but it reached Amara's ears like a warning bell. "People talking about you."
Amara's jaw tightened. "Whispers don't mean anything."
"Don't they?" Darya asked, tilting her head slightly, just enough to catch Amara's eyes. Her smile was too gentle. "Whispers are the roots of rebellion. Small at first, but once they take hold, they're hard to tear out."
"I haven't done anything," Amara said, keeping her voice as firm as she could manage.
"I know." Darya stopped walking, her eyes softening as she turned to face her. Her hands reached out slowly, placing them on Amara's shoulders with the grace of a mother adjusting her child's coat. Her fingers were warm, firm but tender. "That's why I'm here, my dear. To make sure you stay pure."
Her thumb brushed against Amara's cheek, the touch gentle but deliberate. Her gaze didn't waver.
"You're so bright, Amara. So full of potential." Darya's smile softened further, but the weight in her words grew heavier. "But bright lights attract shadows. Be careful."
"I won't betray you," Amara said, staring into Darya's eyes with every ounce of resolve she had.
"I know," Darya whispered. Her eyes flickered with something—relief, maybe, or satisfaction. "But even the most loyal soldier can become a threat if they forget their place."
The words hit harder than a blow to the chest. Amara's breath stilled for half a second. She knew a warning when she heard one.
"Rest, my dear," Darya said, letting her hands fall away. "You've done well today. We'll speak again soon."
Amara's steps echoed down the hall as she walked away. Each step felt louder, each footfall sharper. Her heart didn't slow. It only beat harder.
Kael and Elira were waiting at the bottom of the courtyard steps. Aiden and his group stood off to the side. Rowan's gaze caught hers, holding it for just a second longer than it should have. Her eyes didn't judge, but they saw too much.
"You'll see it," Juno's voice echoed in Amara's mind. "One day, you'll see it too."
Her hands trembled at her sides, and she hated it. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms until the tremors stopped.
"You good?" Kael asked, his eyes flicking toward her hands but never lingering long.
"I'm good," Amara said firmly, lifting her chin.
Kael didn't look convinced, but he didn't press it. Elira, on the other hand, just sighed.
"We've got them a place to sleep," Elira said, jerking her thumb toward Aiden's group. "Tight quarters, but it'll do."
"Thanks," Amara muttered. Her eyes flicked toward Aiden. He caught her gaze and tilted his head, wordless but understanding. She didn't have the patience to decipher it.
Sylva floated forward, her glow soft but steady. Her eyes lingered on Amara, watching her like she saw something Amara wasn't ready to face.
"Sylva floated closer, her glow faint but steady. Her gaze lingered on Amara with quiet intent. "What did she say to you?" Sylva's eyes squinted, her glow dimming. "And what exactly is she so worried about?"
Amara's breath hitched. Her eyes flicked toward Kael and Elira, both of them watching her like hawks. A pause stretched too long.
"She's keeping Ragnar safe," Amara said, sharper than she intended. "That's all it was."
Sylva's glow flickered, her gaze lingering for a moment longer. Then she nodded slowly, like something unseen had just clicked into place.
"Alright," Sylva said, her glow brightening once more. "I believe you."
That answer made Rowan snap her head toward Sylva, her brows furrowed in disbelief. Aiden shifted his weight, exhaling through his nose. Kieran muttered something under his breath, sharp and bitter, but no one asked him to repeat it.
Amara's gaze stayed locked on Sylva, her heart hammering harder now than it had during the conversation with Darya. She didn't know why it felt worse to be believed.
The grand doors opened once more, and Darya stepped out, her presence quiet but absolute. Her gaze swept over them all like she was counting heads.
A maid trailed behind her, moving with quick, quiet steps. The girl leaned in, whispering something into Darya's ear.
Darya's eyes didn't narrow, didn't widen—didn't change at all. She simply nodded.
"I must prepare," Darya announced, turning to face them. Her eyes flicked to Amara. "Our important guest will be here in the morning. They'll require my full attention."
"Who's the guest?" Rowan asked, her tone edged with defiance.
"Not your concern," Darya replied smoothly, eyes not even glancing at Rowan. Her gaze fell on Amara once more. "Rest tonight. You'll be present for the introduction."
With that, she walked away, robes flowing behind her like a trail of red smoke.
Amara's eyes locked on that crimson trail, and for a moment, it looked more like blood than silk.
Her chest felt tight. Her breath slow but uneven.
She glanced at Kael, at Elira, at Aiden, and Rowan. None of them spoke, but she could see it in their eyes.
They'd seen it too.
For the first time, Amara realized she was afraid. Not of Darya's power.
But of what she might have to do.