"Kayla Noctis won't be the only one hunting you down if something happens to him," Ysmeine said flatly.
She didn't raise her tone, puff her chest, or pace dramatically to try to make them feel threatened. She just let the words sit there. And that was enough for someone to get the message.
And the craziest part was, she meant it.
She was standing in the same room as Lysara. One of the most decorated War-Ladies in the queendoms. The kind of woman whose reputation could make grown generals piss themselves. And yet Ysmeine was completely calm. If anything, she looked like the one in control.
And in this moment, Ysmeine had to be in control, or else they would not show mercy to Zaeryn and she couldn't allow that.
Lysara's eyes, calculating as ever, snapped to her. She stepped away from the tall window, her uniform catching the Citadel's light.
Lsara's presence was elegance mixed with a dangerousness that was impossible to ignore. Authority didn't cling to her, it obeyed her.
"Are you going to tell us their names?" she said, each word measured. "Who else should we be worried about?"
Translation: How many more shadows are protecting this boy? Because Zaeryn was starting to look a whole lot more important than just, the kid who didn't die from the Fade.
Ysmeine wasn't tempted to give that information away yet. She uncrossed her arms and stood straighter. "That's classified, Commander. All you can know is that Zaeryn's bloodline carries enough power to bring down your precious Council. Consider this your only warning."
Lysara's eyebrows shot up at that threat. She should have been furious right now, no one threatened the council, or her like this. But instead, she found herself even more curious.
"You're talking about his bloodline as if you aren't related to him," Lysara questioned.
"Well, maybe I'm not related to him by blood," Ysmeine responded cryptically.
Then Lady Valerius spoke up. "You're not his real mother." It wasn't a question. Her eyes had that look, like she was reading Ysmeine's soul. "I bet your genetics don't match," Valerius continued, studying Ysmeine carefully. "Zaeryn isn't your blood. And that might explain why he is very different."
"No. I'm not his birth mother," Ysmeine said simply, without shame. "I was chosen to raise him. Look at him, there's nothing of me in his face. You know why."
Lysara's hands clenched into fists. Ysmeine's boldness was shocking. Talk about playing with fire inside the Citadel's core. She wasn't just crossing a line by withholding information about Ezra from them, but she dared to act like she was the one with the power here.
"You're playing with fire, threatening the Council with secrets." Her voice turned deadly quiet. "What's his bloodline?"
Ysmeine's jaw tightened. A flash of steel crossed her face. "I'm bound by sacred oaths, not your Council's rules. Free Zaeryn, or his true mother will make you pay."
Valerius's eyes turned cold as winter stars. "Claims without proof are worthless. Show us his lineage, or your threats are as empty as a decommissioned drone."
Lysara's voice dropped to a whisper that somehow felt more dangerous than shouting. "You're testing our patience. I'll remind you again, that by withholding important information from us, you're committing treason."
"Alright." Ysmeine looked at both women. Then she sighed deeply, as if about to reveal the biggest secret in the galaxy. And well, maybe not in the galaxy, but it was the biggest secret this world had ever heard at the moment.
A male, royal blood, who also happened to be an anomaly? Yeah, that was big. Something unheard of, and if it was ever revealed to the world, no one could predict the reaction.
"This information never leaves this room," she said. "Break that rule, and…. I hate to say it, but even I don't think I would be safe," She took another breath, her voice heavy with the weight of truth. "Ezra is royal blood. He was born to Princess Athea herself."
The moment Ysmeine said those words, the room went dead silent. It felt like the entire Citadel had stopped breathing.
Lysara's face went white as if she'd been struck by lightning. Her eyes went wide with shock. She was expecting Ysmeine to drop a bomb on them, but still, she didn't expect Ezra to be connected to Princess Athea and the loyal family.
"A male heir? From a royal line? That's... that's impossible." Lysara argued.
Despite being equally in shock as Lysara, Valerius stood perfectly still, her face betraying no emotion. She didn't look stunned. No, that wasn't her style.
She was already thinking. Fast. Her silence wasn't hesitation. It was a calculation.
"Athea?" Lysara whispered, her voice cracking. The name itself was a thunderclap. Princess Athea, daughter of Queen Athena and first heir to the throne. And now, allegedly, the mother of the only male ever born to that royal line.
"The royal family hasn't had any male children since the First Matriarch's law. This breaks every rule." Valerius said.
"Where's your proof?" Lysara demanded.
Ysmeine responded. "Keep Ezra in that cell, and Athea will bring an entire fleet to your doorstep. That's all the proof you'll get, and you won't like it."
"I don't believe it," Lysara said.
"She's telling the truth," Lady Valerius said quietly. Then quietly, almost to herself, "But how is this possible? A male child from the royal family? It shouldn't happen!"
Outside the room.
"What do you think they're discussing in there?" Sage questioned Ezra, settling onto the plush chair beside him. He was still standing, gazing at the closed door with a thoughtful frown.
"I'm not sure," Ezra responded, his voice low. In truth, he knew exactly what they were talking about, a secret not even Sage knew yet. He wasn't ready to tell her about his connection to the royal family.
He trusted her. He really did. But he couldn't risk it. Not with something like this. If the truth about him got out, it wouldn't just change things—it would ignite a firestorm.
Athea had given him to Ysmeine because her family would've erased him the moment they found out.
Males had never been born before and neither were they accepted in that bloodline. Something about keeping it pure.
'Whatever the fuck that means.' Ezra muttered internally.
Sage's violet eyes, usually so bright, held a rare shadow of concern. "It feels heavy, doesn't it? The air in this place. Like a storm's brewing." She said.
"Something like that," Ezra responded, in thought.
Sage observed him for a second. "Hey, stop looking like a man sentenced to death," she teased, her voice low and sultry. "Relax. You're too pretty to be executed." She joked in hopes of lighting the mood.
Ezra gave a faint smirk but didn't reply. Sage noticed the distant look in his eyes.
She stood and walked up behind him, looping her arms around his waist. "You know, for someone who just made it out of a death zone alive, you're really bad at celebrating."
"Kind of hard to celebrate when the Council's deciding whether to dissect me, babe," Ezra muttered, though he didn't resist her touch.
Sage pressed closer, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Hmm. That cut on your side says otherwise. Mind if I take a peek?"
Ezra stiffened, but Sage was already tugging at the edge of his shirt. She lifted it up, exposing his abs as the fabric rode up just enough to reveal the raw scratch running across his ribs.
"You know," she murmured, letting her fingers ghost over his skin, "the fact that you've got abs without ever working out should've raised some red flags."
She bit her lip, slow and deliberate, then leaned in and kissed him. It lingered, warm, slow, distracting. Just long enough to make the weight on his chest feel a little lighter.
Then her fingers drifted lower, brushing over the cut.
"This... this is why they're obsessed with you," she whispered, gaze locked on the injury. Then, with a sly smile, she added, "Well, one of the reasons. That Daphne woman? Pretty sure her interest in you isn't just scientific. Not even close."
Ezra turned his head slightly. "Are you flirting with me right now?"
"Would you rather I cry and scream?" she asked, tilting her head. "Because I can do that too. Very dramatically."
He chuckled. "Please don't."
Sage leaned in closer, her lips nearly brushing his ear. "Good. Because I don't do drama unless it comes with a kiss."
Ezra's breath caught. For a second, he considered kissing her again, closing the gap, just letting himself forget the weight of everything for a moment.
But then the doors behind them slid open with a hiss.
"Saved by the door," Ezra muttered, stepping back just in time.
Sage rolled her eyes in annoyance, a barely suppressed huff escaping her lips. "Yeah."
Mireille walked over towards them just then. Her aloof gaze lingered on Ezra and Sage, their open affection a rare sight in a world where such closeness between a man and woman was almost unheard of.
"I think they want us to go back," Sage said, spotting Mireille.
"Yes, High Commander Lysara demands your immediate presence," Mireille confirmed, her voice even.
Not long after. They walked back into the lounge, and the atmosphere was now filled with a different kind of tension. Lady Valerius, High Commander Lysara, and Ysmeine were still present. The latter looked composed, calm, steady, and unmistakably in control.
Ezra exhaled, some of the pressure easing from his chest as Ysmeine stepped forward and hugged him. She said nothing. But the affection of her embrace and the faint scent of her perfume grounded him more than words ever could.
Then the doors hissed open again.
Chief Scientist Daphne Virellith entered, crisp and imposing in her spotless white coat. Beside her strode another figure, Charlotte Thorne. Her presence was unmistakable, her posture was majestic and her movements were sharp with restrained power.
For a brief second, her eyes locked onto Ezra the moment she entered.
"Who's that?" Sage asked under her breath. "She looks like she's not a fan of you."
And she wasn't wrong. Charlotte Thorne wasn't exactly radiating affection when she looked at Ezra.
Ezra took her in more clearly this time. He'd only seen her once, seated behind a Council table. But now, standing tall beside Daphne, Lady Thorne's commanding aura was undeniable. There was elegance in her, yes, but also something predatory beneath the surface.
"Lysara," Thorne said, her voice smooth but edged like honed steel. "Why was I not informed that his mother had arrived?"
Her eyes settled on Ysmeine, sharp and full of questions.
Lysara, ever the tactician, shifted the conversation. "Zaeryn," she said, addressing Ezra directly, her tone formal but not unkind. "After speaking with Ysmeine, Lady Valerius, and me on behalf of the Council — we have reached a decision."
She let the moment sit, giving it more weight.
"You are permitted to leave the Citadel."
A wave of disappointment washed over Daphne, her lips thinning almost imperceptibly, her proprietary gaze on Ezra briefly flickering with frustration. This wasn't the outcome she'd hoped for.
Ezra was supposed to stay here so that she could do more tests on him. Nonetheless, she had no standing to argue about it, she was only the chief scientist, a role that didn't have as much authority as the others. So all she could do was frown.
Lady Thorne, however, wasn't one to let disrespect pass. The fact that she wasn't involved at all in all these talks and Lysara and Valerius, had just made a decision, was a sign of disrespect to her role as second in command after the high commander.
"Well," she said, letting out a dry laugh. "Isn't that convenient? Suddenly, the 'threat' gets to walk free. I wonder what revelation caused such a swift reversal."
Her gaze danced between Lysara and Ysmeine, suspicion gleaming like frost.
Ezra barely heard her, because he felt the weight on his chest was gone . "Thank you, High Commander," he said quickly, the words tumbling out. "I understand. I'll report back whenever you need me."
Lady Valerius stepped forward. "Let's be clear: this isn't mercy. This is containment under different terms. You are still a potential risk."
Her gaze pinned him in place.
"Your condition is unlike anything we've seen. Unstable. Perhaps your mind is fighting the Fade… for now. But that resistance might not last."
She gestured slightly, almost like an order being issued. "To ensure this doesn't spiral beyond our control, Agent War-Lady Mireille and Agent Arya will accompany you. From now on, you won't be unsupervised. Not until we understand exactly what you are."