The idea had taken root in Soren’s mind like a thorn, nagging and persistent. As much as he had tried to ignore it, the whispers of rebellion that coursed through the palace had grown too loud to dismiss. The meeting he had overheard weeks ago, the letters he had uncovered, and the subtle shifts in the court all pointed to one undeniable truth: Valen was preparing to strike, and Kairos would need every advantage if he hoped to survive.

Which was why Soren now found himself in the servants’ quarters, his heart pounding as he tugged on a rough linen shirt and belted a plain tunic around his waist. His usual finely tailored attire was folded neatly on a cot, replaced by the unassuming uniform of a palace servant.

It was a reckless plan, and he knew it. If he were caught sneaking into Valen’s meeting, the consequences would be dire. But the opportunity to gather intelligence directly from the rebels was too valuable to pass up.

Soren adjusted the hood of his borrowed cloak and took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He had spent the past two days listening carefully to the palace staff, piecing together fragments of conversations about the meeting’s location. A storeroom on the far edge of the palace grounds, tucked away behind the stables, had been mentioned more than once.

If Valen and his allies were gathering there, Soren intended to find out why.

The storeroom was a dark and musty building, its exterior weathered by years of neglect. The faint flicker of torchlight seeped through the cracks in the wooden shutters, and muffled voices reached Soren’s ears as he crept closer. He pressed himself against the wall, his breathing shallow, and peeked through a narrow gap in the boards.

Inside, a group of nobles and military officers stood in a loose circle, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of a central brazier. Valen stood at the center, his imposing figure casting long shadows on the walls.

Soren strained to hear as Valen began to speak, his deep voice carrying an air of authority.

“The time is nearly upon us,” Valen said, his tone measured but firm. “The emperor’s grip on the court is slipping, and the southern provinces are ready to rise. Our forces are positioned to strike key garrisons within the week.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the group.

“And the capital?” one of the nobles asked.

Valen smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Once the southern forces have secured their objectives, we’ll march on the capital. By then, Kairos will have no choice but to surrender. The empire will be ours.”

Soren’s blood ran cold. The details were chillingly specific, leaving little doubt that Valen’s plan was already in motion. He leaned closer, hoping to catch more of the conversation, but the movement jostled a loose board underfoot.

The faint creak echoed in the silence, and Soren froze, his heart hammering.

“What was that?” one of the officers asked sharply, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

Valen raised a hand, silencing the room. “Search the perimeter,” he ordered, his voice calm but laced with menace.

Soren cursed silently and backed away from the wall, keeping to the shadows as he retreated. He had made it only a few steps when the sound of approaching boots reached his ears.

“Over here!” someone shouted.

Before Soren could react, a strong hand seized his arm and wrenched him backward. He struggled, but his captor was far stronger, twisting his arm painfully behind his back.

“Well, well,” Valen said as he emerged from the storeroom, his cold gaze settling on Soren. “What have we here?”

Soren was dragged inside and thrown to the floor, his hood falling back to reveal his face. Gasps and murmurs erupted from the group as they recognized him, but Valen only smiled, his expression one of dark amusement.

“The emperor’s consort,” Valen said, his voice dripping with mockery. “What an unexpected guest. I must say, Soren, I’m impressed by your boldness. Or is it foolishness?”

Soren glared up at him, his chest heaving. “You won’t get away with this.”

Valen chuckled, crouching down to meet Soren’s gaze. “On the contrary, I think I already have. You’ve walked straight into the lion’s den, and now you’ll serve a far greater purpose.”

Soren’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

Valen’s smile widened. “You’re going to send a message to your emperor. Let’s see how far he’s willing to go to get you back.”

Soren was bound and blindfolded, his wrists chafing against the rough rope as he was dragged out of the storeroom and into the cold night air. He didn’t know where they were taking him, but the sound of horses and the jostling of a cart suggested they were leaving the palace grounds.

The journey was long and grueling, each bump in the road sending jolts of pain through Soren’s body. He focused on the rhythm of the cart’s wheels, trying to steady his breathing and push back the rising tide of fear.

When they finally stopped, Soren was hauled roughly to his feet and led into what felt like a stone-walled chamber. The blindfold was removed, and he blinked against the dim light of a single torch.

Valen stood before him, his expression calm but deadly serious.

“You’ll remain here as my guest,” Valen said, his tone almost mocking. “In the meantime, I’ll send word to Kairos. Let’s see if his precious consort is worth the risk.”

Soren’s captivity was harsh but not brutal. He was given food and water, but the guards posted outside his cell made it clear that escape was not an option. Days passed in a haze of worry and frustration, his thoughts consumed by the impending confrontation between Kairos and Valen.

He didn’t doubt that Kairos would come for him—the emperor was too proud to let Valen gain the upper hand. But Soren couldn’t shake the fear that his capture had only made things worse.

If Kairos acted rashly, he could walk straight into Valen’s trap. And if he hesitated, it could cost him the loyalty of the court.

Either way, Soren knew the stakes had never been higher.

As he sat alone in the dimly lit cell, Soren resolved to do whatever it took to help Kairos—if only he could find a way to reach him.

The storm brewing between the emperor and the rebels was about to reach its breaking point, and Soren could only hope that the bond he had forged with Kairos would be enough to weather it.