Veiled truths

Elara sat on the edge of her cot, running her fingers along the old journal's leather binding. The words The Forgotten Sons still lingered in her mind, but she couldn't afford to dwell on them now. Not when her every move was being watched.

Damien hadn't outright accused her, but his warning was clear—he was paying attention.

A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Elijah?"

Keshav.

She quickly hid the journal beneath her blanket before opening the door. Keshav stood in the dimly lit corridor, his expression unreadable as always.

"Damien wants to see you," he said simply.

Elara tensed. "Now?"

Keshav gave a single nod. "He didn't say why." But there was something else in Keshav's eyes – a darkness that told her tonight was the night they both were going to be tested.

Elara swallowed the unease rising in her chest. She hadn't done anything—at least nothing Damien could prove. But she couldn't shake the feeling that this was about more than just her little detour at the tavern.

She followed Keshav through the quiet halls, their footsteps barely making a sound against the stone. When they reached Damien's chambers, Keshav pushed the door open without knocking.

Damien was standing by the window, his back to them. His shoulders were rigid, his hands clasped behind him. The room was dim, the only light coming from a single flickering lantern on his desk.

"You wanted to see me?" Elara asked, keeping her voice even.

Damien turned slowly, his gaze sharp as it settled on her.

"Elijah," he said, his tone unreadable. "Tell me—how do you know Matthias?"

Elara's stomach dropped. His gaze, she knew, was a weapon.

She schooled her features into careful indifference. "Matthias?"

Damien's eyes darkened. "Don't play dumb."

Elara glanced at Keshav, but his face remained impassive. She could practically feel Keshav's watchful gaze and his awareness of every detail.

She took a slow breath, thinking fast. "He was a soldier once," she said finally. "I knew him when I was younger. He used to tell me stories about battles."

Damien tilted his head slightly, as if weighing her words. He wanted to believe her, but something felt off. "And yet, he's no longer a soldier."

Elara kept her expression neutral. "A lot of men leave the army."

"Not men like Matthias."

Elara didn't respond.

Damien took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "I know he told you something," he said, his voice low. "Something you're not sharing."

Elara forced herself to meet his gaze. "If I knew anything useful, I would have told you."

A muscle in Damien's jaw twitched, but he didn't press further. Instead, he studied her for a long moment before finally exhaling.

"Stay away from him," he said. "Whatever you think you're looking for—he's not the answer."

Elara hesitated. "Why do you care?"

Damien's expression flickered—just for a second. But then, just as quickly, the cold mask was back.

"Because men like Matthias don't just vanish from the army," he said. "They run. And people who run are usually hiding something."

Elara's pulse pounded in her ears. So am I.

She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything else.

"Dismissed," Damien said.

Elara turned to leave, but as she reached the door, Keshav spoke for the first time.

"You didn't lie," he said quietly, his voice soft and even. It wasn't a question or a statement, but a subtle warning; a promise of something more to come.

Elara froze, glancing back at him.

Keshav's dark eyes were unreadable, but there was something unsettlingly sharp in his gaze. As if he could see right through her.

She forced a small smirk. "That's because I have nothing to hide." And in that moment, Damien saw that Elara's greatest strength was not as a fighter, but as a liar.

Neither Damien nor Keshav responded, but as she stepped into the corridor, she felt their gazes lingering on her back.

She had dodged suspicion—for now.

But she knew it was only a matter of time before the walls started closing in. The weight in her hands, for the first time, felt as though it was not a sword, but a lie.

Later That NightElara sat cross-legged on her cot, the journal open in her lap. She traced the faded ink of the final passage Matthias had pointed out to her.

"The Valerius line must endure... even if it means hiding in plain sight."

Her breath hitched. Valerius.

She knew that name.

Not from history books. Not from whispered tales.

From her father.

He had never spoken of his past, but there had been moments—when he thought she wasn't listening—when she had heard him mutter that name under his breath.

Matthias had said the Forgotten Sons were watching her.

But what if it wasn't just them?

What if someone else knew who she really was?

And worse—what if Damien found out before she did?

Elara clenched her fists. She needed more answers.

And there was only one person left who could give them to her.