Chapter 2 - The Awakening of the Blood
By midnight, the Great Hall of Blackwinter Court was deathly quiet, save for the crackling of the hearth. Rowan sat in the holding alcove, his wrists bandaged, a heavy wool blanket draped over his shoulders. The winged tiger—which the castle guards had hastily cordoned off in the inner menagerie courtyard—seemed to project a faint, pulsing warmth through the stone walls.
The heavy oak door creaked open, and Queen-Regent Helena walked in alone. She dismissed the outside guards with a flick of her wrist, closing the door behind her.
“You should be resting, Your Majesty,” Rowan said, his voice raspy.
“And you should be halfway to the southern border by now, if Lord Cedric had his way,” Helena replied, pulling a heavy wooden chair close to the hearth. She sat down, her sharp eyes studying Rowan’s face. “You recognized the medallion on the beast, didn’t you?”
Rowan looked down at his hands. “It belonged to Queen Vespera. The first Ashbourne sovereign. The histories say it was lost when the Sunken Citadel fell three hundred years ago.”
“Histories are written by those who survive the purge,” Helena said softly. She reached into her velvet pocket and pulled out a small, tarnished silver key, placing it on the table between them. “Vespera didn’t lose that medallion, Rowan. She bound it to her bloodline—a bloodline that was supposed to have ended with her execution.”
Rowan’s breath hitched. “What are you saying?”
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“I am saying that you spent the last six years polishing my family’s heirlooms because your foster father hid you well,” Helena said, her voice heavy with emotion. “That beast didn't break through three hundred royal guards because it loves fire, Rowan. It broke through because it smelled its master’s blood returning to the throne.”
Before Rowan could process the words, a sharp, metallic screech echoed from the courtyard outside, followed by the sound of shouting and shattering glass.
