Chapter 32

The Ash Mark.

The Red Court was built on blood, but it thrived in silence.

I’ve learned that pretty quickly.

Every move in Edenfall felt like it was part of a dance. Every glance was calculated. And every smile? It hid a sharp edge. There weren’t any true allies here, just enemies waiting for the right moment to strike.

I found myself sitting by my window, the bloodstone pendant tight in my grip, watching the rain create ghostly trails on the glass.

It had been three days since I stumbled upon my mother’s secret chamber, three days since I declared war with nothing but my voice.

And so far, the Court hadn’t come after me. Not yet. But that silence? It felt worse than any rage.

Damian walked in without knocking, just like always. He carried a hefty leather file, marked with the red seal of Edenfall’s intelligence branch.

“The watcher is watching,” he said, dropping the file onto the table in front of me. “He’s doubled the eyes on your wing. Your food is probably poisoned. And this dossier tracks your movements since you arrived.”

I flipped through the file. There were surveillance photos, transcripts of overheard conversations. Even the briefest chat I had with Lennox was logged.

They’re afraid of me, I whispered.

“They should be,” Damian replied, his voice low.

I closed the file and stood up. I needed a way to speak freely. I needed someone who knew these halls better than anyone.

He raised an eyebrow. “You already have me.”

I need more than you.

That night, Damian set up a meeting in the catacombs beneath Edenfall. It was a place where the dead kings of the court lay buried in empty tombs with forgotten names. I met the contact there.

A young man stepped out from the shadows. He was thin, with silver eyes, dressed like a servant, but there was something alert about his posture.

“This is Kain,” Damian introduced. “He’s been inside the court since he was a child. Spy. Cleaner. He knows how to move without being seen.”

Kain gave me a slight bow. “I’ve followed your footsteps for years, Lady Duarte. And your mother’s. I always knew she’d come back one day. If not in body, then in vengeance.”

I nodded. Will you help me bring down what she couldn’t?

“I’ll burn it from the bone up.”

With Kain’s help, I began to navigate Edenfall differently. I moved quietly, without a trace. I accessed wings I wasn’t meant to see and dug through archives sealed for decades.

And what I found were secrets buried under layers of luxury.

One document caught my eye. It was a ledger tucked away behind a false wall in the northern archives of the court.

It was a list. Names. Codes. Bloodlines.

All marked with a single crimson seal: Ash.

I froze. What’s this? I asked, glancing at Kain.

His face went pale. “Those are the marked ones.”

Marked for what?

“Erasure,” he said quietly. “Each one was part of the Ashborn. Your mother’s loyal followers. The court tracked them down after she died. They silenced them one by one.”

I gripped the edge of the page tightly. Near the bottom, there was a name I recognized.

Lara Voss.

My mother’s closest friend. The woman who vanished when I was just five.

She wasn’t killed, I whispered to myself. She’s alive.

“Then she’s hiding really well,” Kain replied. “Or maybe the court wants us to believe she’s gone.”

I ripped the page free. I will find Lara. And I will bring back the Ashborn.

Two days later, a message arrived. Delivered by a raven, its feet stained with blood from the light.

It was sealed with a crest I didn’t recognize, a black feather and a crown split in half.

I broke the seal.

“Your words stirred the dead, but now the living bleed. The watcher prepares a ceremony meant to crown you in blood. Refuse, and they’ll paint Edenfall red with your bones. Accept, and you’ll join them. Choose wisely, bloodborn.”

I handed the letter to Damian, my jaw tightening.

“This is the trial,” he said. “The final step before you become Queen. The watcher will make you kill to prove your loyalty.”

I won’t. “Then they’ll try to kill you.”

I turned back to the window, my voice cold as winter.

Let them try.

On the day of the ceremony, the throne room looked completely different.

Gone were the black banners. Everything was white.

White marble. White roses. White robes. The color of false purity.

The watcher sat at the head of a great circle, flanked by masked judges. The dagger for the blood oath lay in front of him.

I strode in, dressed not in the usual court silk but in black.

A statement. A warning.

Damian walked beside me, unarmed but fierce.

A circle of initiates waited for me, new bloodlines hoping to pledge loyalty through violence.

The watcher stood up. “Today, the throne claims its price.”

A girl no older than sixteen stepped forward, trembling.

She has no crimes, I said flatly.

“Then create one,” the watcher shot back.

I looked at her. Her wide, terrified eyes reminded me of the boy I had spared just days ago.

I turned back to the watcher.

No.

Murmurs spread through the court.

The watcher’s voice boomed. “You were given a crown. You don’t wear it for mercy.”

I spun around, my voice sharp as the dagger at my feet.

I wear it for change.

I bent down, picked up the blade, and aimed it at myself. If blood is what you want, take mine.

Gasps filled the air.

The girl dropped to her knees, sobbing. The watcher stood still.

I sliced my palm again, letting the blood fall onto the marble.

I will not be your executioner. I’ll be your reckoning.

Later that night, someone slipped a note under my door.

No seal, no ink. Just shaky, hurried writing.

“The Ashborn live in the hollow district. They wait for your fire. Come alone.”

I held the note up to the candlelight, watching it start to curl at the edges.

I turned to Damian. We’ve shaken the cage.

He looked at me for a long moment. “Now we break it.”