CHAPTER 12:GHOSTS OF THE CROWN
The dream began the same way it always did.
Laughter. Music. The scent of lilies and spiced wine.
The ballroom lights blurred like stars, and somewhere nearby, Caelan was grinning at me, raising his glass. "Happy birthday, sister," he'd said, voice warm with charm and mischief.
Then the candles blew out.
---
Suddenly, I was running.
My hands were covered in blood. My dress torn. My breath coming too fast, too loud.
The doors of the palace swung open with a sound like screaming.
And there they were.
My parents.
Their crowns crooked. Their eyes open, but lifeless.
And across the room, a shadow in a black cloak stood with a sword dripping red.
Beside him…
Caelan.
Not shocked.
Not confused.
Calm. Calculating.
"I never thought you'd be so eager, sister," he said.
"So desperate for a throne… that you'd kill for it."
---
I woke up with a gasp.
The chill of the Draeven dawn hadn't reached the barracks yet, but my entire body was trembling. My hands were curled into fists in the sheets. My breathing came in panicked gasps.
I didn't cry often.
But this time, the tears came before I could stop them.
No one saw.
No one ever did.
And I didn't want them to.
I curled tighter into the cot, squeezing my eyes shut, willing the memory away.
It didn't work.
---
By midday, I was still out of rhythm.
My feet moved on instinct, but my head was somewhere else. I'd trained to fight through pain, through fear, through loss. But this wasn't a blade I could block.
It was the past.
And it always cut deeper than steel.
Captain Ren barked orders. Kael sparred quietly nearby. Bastien was bragging to another recruit about something no one cared about.
And I couldn't focus.
---
"Pair off!" Ren called.
My partner for the round: Bastien.
Of course.
He gave me a smug smirk as we stepped into the ring. "Try not to hold back this time, princess."
I didn't rise to the bait.
But I wasn't ready.
---
He came in fast, low sweep toward my legs. I blocked, but my footing slipped—my stance a half-second too late, weight uneven. My right foot twisted sharply as I pivoted.
Pain exploded in my ankle.
I hissed and dropped to one knee.
The wooden blade struck my side. Not hard. But hard enough.
The humiliation hit harder than the blow.
Bastien raised an eyebrow. "You good down there?"
"Enough," Ren barked. "Sera—off the field."
---
I gritted my teeth and stood, wincing as I limped to the edge of the courtyard.
The recruits parted without a word.
But I felt someone watching.
Not Bastien. Not Ren.
Valen.
He stood by the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—not with judgment. With something else.
Concern?
Curiosity?
I looked away before I could read too much into it.
---
Later, as I sat at the edge of the practice field wrapping my ankle in cloth, the ache pulsed up my leg. But it wasn't the injury that stung most.
It was that I'd let myself slip.
Let the past in.
Let the mask crack.
Kael passed by and gave a glance.
"You good?You seem a little off today,"she said,seeming concerned.
"Yeah,I just lost a little balance.I'm good so don't worry about me,"I said, faking a smile which I think she noticed but she didn't press on.
Prince Valen didn't approach.
But I caught him glancing once more before he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.
He didn't say anything.