The palace was in chaos. The intruder's chilling last words had spread like wildfire, sparking fear and suspicion among the guards and courtiers. Lyanna stood at the center of the storm, her mind racing as she struggled to maintain her composure. She couldn't afford to show weakness—not now, when every decision she made could mean the difference between survival and ruin.
Kalen had doubled the palace security, his sharp orders echoing through the corridors as soldiers scrambled to fortify their defenses. But even with his unwavering presence, Lyanna couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping into her chest.
Lorian's forces were inside the walls. How?
"Your Grace," Sorin's voice broke through her thoughts. He stepped into the council chamber, his expression calm but his eyes alight with something that bordered on amusement. "It seems you've been outplayed."
Lyanna's jaw tightened. "Do you have information, or are you just here to gloat?"
Sorin chuckled, taking a seat at the edge of the table. "I might have a lead. One of my informants mentioned a possible traitor within your inner circle."
The words hung in the air, heavy and damning.
"A traitor?" Lyanna's voice was sharp, but her heart sank. It was a possibility she hadn't wanted to consider, though the signs had been there—missteps in strategy, leaks in their plans.
"Someone is feeding Lorian information," Sorin continued, his gaze flicking to Kalen, who stood stiffly beside her. "Someone close enough to know your every move."
Kalen bristled at the implied accusation, but he held his tongue, his eyes fixed on Sorin with barely concealed disdain.
Uncovering the Mole
Lyanna wasted no time. She summoned her inner circle—General Harwin, Clara, Sorin, and Kalen—into a secure chamber, locking the doors behind them.
"No one leaves until we get to the bottom of this," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside her.
Harwin frowned, his scarred face etched with concern. "Your Grace, with all due respect, this could tear us apart. If we start pointing fingers without proof—"
"Then bring me proof," Lyanna interrupted. "Search the guards' barracks, interrogate anyone with access to sensitive information. I want answers, and I want them now."
Sorin leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "And what if the traitor is sitting in this room?"
The air grew heavy with tension. Clara paled, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched a piece of parchment. Harwin's brows furrowed, and even Kalen's usually calm demeanor seemed to falter for a moment.
"Enough," Lyanna said, her tone icy. "This isn't a witch hunt. We'll follow the evidence, not accusations."
But even as she spoke, doubt began to creep in. She had trusted these people with her life, her kingdom. Could one of them truly betray her?
The First Clue
Later that night, Lyanna sat alone in her chambers, poring over reports and troop movements. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, but she couldn't stop—not when the enemy was already within their gates.
A soft knock at the door startled her.
"Come in," she said, her hand instinctively moving to the dagger hidden beneath her desk.
Clara entered, her face drawn with worry. "Your Grace, I think I may have found something."
Lyanna motioned for her to approach, her heart pounding. Clara handed her a small, crumpled piece of paper, the edges singed as if it had been hastily burned.
"It was in the ashes of the kitchen hearth," Clara explained. "I don't know what it means, but…"
Lyanna smoothed out the paper, her eyes scanning the hastily scrawled words: "The wolf moves at midnight. Contact established."
Her blood ran cold.
"This was written by someone in the palace," Lyanna said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Someone who knew the message wouldn't leave the grounds."
"Do you think it's…?" Clara's voice trailed off, but Lyanna knew what she was asking.
"I don't know," Lyanna admitted. "But we need to find out."
A Test of Trust
The next morning, Lyanna called for a meeting in the throne room. Every member of the council, every high-ranking officer, and every trusted servant was present.
"I have reason to believe there is a traitor among us," she announced, her voice carrying over the assembled crowd. Murmurs rippled through the room, but she silenced them with a raised hand.
"To root out this threat, I am implementing new security measures," she continued. "No one will leave the palace without my express permission. All communications will be monitored. And every member of this court will be questioned—myself included."
The room erupted into protests, but Lyanna stood firm, her gaze hard as steel.
"This is not a negotiation," she said. "We are at war, and I will do whatever it takes to protect this kingdom."
The Cliffhanger
That night, as the palace settled into an uneasy quiet, Lyanna found herself unable to sleep. She wandered the halls, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floors.
She was nearing the library when she heard voices—low and urgent, as if the speakers didn't want to be overheard.
Curiosity and caution warred within her, but she crept closer, pressing herself against the cold stone wall.
"…can't keep this up," a voice hissed. It was familiar, but she couldn't place it.
"You don't have a choice," another voice replied. "The plan is already in motion. If you back out now, we're both dead."
Lyanna's heart pounded as she strained to hear more, but the voices suddenly stopped. She peered around the corner, only to find the corridor empty.
Who had been there? And what "plan" were they talking about?
As she turned to leave, a sharp pain exploded at the back of her head. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the faint glint of a dagger.