"In the west wing. One of your personal guards. Throat slit. And this..." Oryn handed over a piece of parchment.

Kael opened it, face darkening as he read.

Rayne strained to see. "What does it say?"

He didn't answer at first. Then he turned the paper toward her.

A single line written in deep red ink:

"The Moonborn will die before the eclipse."

Rayne's blood ran cold. "Eclipse?"

Kael folded the note. "Three nights from now."

Oryn shifted beside him. "We believe there may be more infiltrators. The Council must be warned."

"No," Kael said sharply. "If we tell them now, they'll demand her execution."

Rayne stared between them. "Why?"

Kael's jaw tightened. "Because they fear prophecy more than death."

She stood slowly, her knees weak but steadying. "Then train me."

Kael blinked. "What?"

"Train me to survive it. You said I need control. I'm done hiding. Regardless of who I am, I want to be prepared if they return. After examining her for a while with the firelight flickering across his face, Kael nodded slowly and grudgingly, saying, "Tomorrow." "We start at dawn."

-------

The training grounds of Araksa were nothing like Rayne had imagined. They weren't polished or grand like the court halls. They were brutal. Harsh. Built for blood and sweat, not spectacle.

Dawn broke as Kael stood across from her, arms crossed, watching her struggle to hold a wooden blade.

Rayne's wrists ached, bruised from the heavy manacles she still wore. She could barely lift the blade above her shoulder. She'd slept less than an hour, and every muscle screamed with exhaustion.

But she refused to stop.

"You're holding it wrong," Kael said, circling her like a hawk. "Your grip is too loose. Again."

Rayne tightened her hands, lifted the sword, and swung.

Kael blocked it with a casual flick of his own weapon, knocking her off balance. She stumbled and hit the dirt.

"Again."

Rage seething in her core, she forced herself to stand, breathing heavily.

"I'm trying," she growled.

"Trying isn't enough," Kael snapped. "They won't wait for you to figure it out before coming for you once more. Your fatigue or fear won't matter to them.

She threw the sword aside and glared at him. "You believe I'm unaware of that? I'm not blind. I know everyone here wants me dead. You included."

Kael's expression didn't change. But he didn't deny it.

He took a step closer instead, speaking in a frigid, low voice. "I'm not interested in your feelings. I care about whether you'll survive. So if you want my help, pick it up."

Rayne stared at him, breath ragged, chest heaving. Then, slowly she picked up the sword again.

"I hate you," she muttered.

Kael's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Good. Use it."

She charged at him this time-wild, sloppy, but there was power in her swing. The sword met his with a loud crack, jarring her arms, but she didn't drop it. She shoved forward, teeth clenched, pushing with every bit of anger burning in her.

Kael shifted, using her momentum to flip her over his shoulder.

She landed hard, gasping for air.

And then, suddenly-everything stopped.

The pain. The fatigue. The cold. It was like something inside her pulsed, spreading warmth through her veins.

The mark on her back burned again.

Kael stepped back, eyes narrowing. "Get up."

She did. Slowly. But when she looked up, her irises shimmered gold.

He raised his sword again. "Now let's begin for real."

They trained for hours until the sun rose fully above the treetops. Kael never gave her praise. Never softened his blows. But he didn't hold back either, and that, more than anything, told her he was taking her seriously now.

By the end of it, Rayne collapsed in the grass, chest rising and falling like a drumbeat. Sweat soaked through her clothes. Her arms trembled, and every breath burned.

But she was alive.

Alive and still fighting.

Kael stood over her, silent. Then, finally, he said, "You lasted longer than I thought you would."

Rayne gave a bitter laugh. "That your version of a compliment?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he offered her his hand.

She stared at it for a moment, then took it.

Just as he pulled her up, a guard rushed across the training grounds, panting.

"My prince, there's been another attack. In the library."

Kael turned sharply. "Who?"

"The Keeper of Archives. Killed. They were looking for something-tore the place apart."

Rayne's stomach dropped. "What could they want from there?"

Kael's face darkened. "Records. Prophecies. Bloodlines."

She froze. "You think... they're trying to erase me."

"No." His eyes narrowed. "They're trying to find a way to control you."

Rayne's throat went dry.

Kael gave her a sharp look. "Go wash. Rest. Tonight, you move to the southern wing. New guards, new routes. No one else must know."

Rayne blinked. "Why the southern wing?"

Kael hesitated. "Because it's where the Queen's Seer used to stay. And if you are what I think you are... you'll need answers that only she left behind."

Her heart skipped. "You think she knew about me?"

Kael didn't answer. He just turned and walked off, the guard hurrying behind him.

Rayne stood there alone, sword still in hand, blood and sweat dripping down her arms.

She looked up at the sky-gray clouds forming overhead, and whispered to no one, "Then I'll find those answers myself."