The halls of the palace no longer echoed with celebration. What once was laughter had turned to whispers. What once was perfume had curdled into fear. And in the center of it all—Erevan lay pale in his bed, the flicker of life returning, but slow. Fragile.
Carlos stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, his jaw tight.
"He keeps looking for you," Lumira said quietly as she stepped to his side, her voice laced with exhaustion and something deeper—concern not just for the king, but for Carlos too.
"I know," Carlos said, eyes fixed on Erevan's sleeping form. "But I won't come if I still smell like blood."
Lumira didn't push. She saw the rawness in him—his hands still wrapped where flame had burned him, his steps a little too steady for someone who should have collapsed days ago. A boy fighting like a man, carrying too many crowns at once.
Just then, Erevan stirred.
"Carlos…" His voice was a whisper, hoarse.
Carlos was by his side instantly, grabbing a damp cloth and gently pressing it to his brother's forehead. "You should be resting."
"You're the one who should be resting," Erevan said with a tired smile, but his face darkened quickly. "They say… the nobles talk… the Queen—she…"
Carlos cut him off. "I don't care what she's doing. I care that you live long enough to take the throne back from the lies she's weaving."
Erevan gritted his teeth. "Carlos. You have to stop. The people—if they see you as the one holding the crown, they'll turn."
"I don't want their crown," Carlos said softly, eyes glinting. "I only want their king alive."
Erevan turned his face away, hiding the guilt in his eyes.
Kave entered moments later, face ashen. "There's nothing. The Queen's cleaned it all. Witnesses bribed, servants vanished, the chef hasn't spoken since. No one dares. And the chef and the prisoner was not enough. No one would believe."
He slammed his fist against the wall. "We know she did it. But we can't prove anything. She's turning the Empire against us."
Carlos stepped away from Erevan's bed, his voice cold and clear.
"Then I'll take it myself."
"What?" Kave blinked.
"I'll take every rumor. Every slander. Every lie she's told. And I'll rip them apart with truth and fire," Carlos said. "If I have to become a villain to save him, then let them call me one. I won't let this play out like it did before."
"Before?" Kave frowned.
Carlos said nothing.
Lumira narrowed her eyes, something clicking behind her silence. But she said nothing either.
Carlos turned to the window, staring at the city that now whispered of rebellion.
"She wants a war of words?" he said. "Then I'll give her one. Not with noble tongues and silken lies—but with fire, and proof, and the will to burn down every mask she wears."
He looked back at them, shadows dancing across his face. The boy they'd followed into the forest was still here—but harder now, colder. A soldier waking again in a world that still hadn't learned how to listen.
"Let her call me a devil," Carlos whispered. "
"I'll still save my brother."