Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance
Chapter 113: The Next Course Of Action

Chapter 113: The Next Course Of Action

Kieran hadn’t said a word since I gave the order. He stood by the balcony now, his back to me, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass in the moonlight. His hands were clenched at his sides like he needed to hold the world in place.

I knew what he was thinking. If he had been a moment later.

I didn’t let myself think the same.

Instead, I peeled the tattered fabric from my arm, hissing as dried blood pulled skin with it. The gash wasn’t deep, not anymore , but the blackened edges told me enough. The Void dust was potent, and it hadn’t been meant to merely wound.

It had been meant to kill slowly. Quietly. As if divine blood deserved a more poetic end.

A knock sounded.

Kieran turned before I could, stalking to the door and wrenching it open with enough force to make the hinges groan.

One of Kieran’s generals stood on the other side, pale-faced and breathless, a blade strapped across his chest and more guards bristling behind him.

"We secured the perimeter," he reported without waiting to be invited in.

"No signs of a second infiltrator, but the breach point suggests internal access. The south watch was compromised."

Kieran swore. "How many knew Athena’s quarters were moved?"

"Only your inner circle," He said.

My mouth went dry.

"Then who?" I asked, forcing my legs to support me as I crossed the room.

"We’d die before betraying the crown," Kieran muttered.

"Still, verify everyone’s location tonight. No exceptions."

The general bowed. "Yes, sir."

The door shut behind him, and silence pressed in again.

"You’re thinking it," I said, voice brittle.

Kieran turned, eyes unreadable. "That someone close to us opened the door."

I nodded. "There was no lock picked. No forced entry. Just open."

Kieran didn’t argue.

And that frightened me more than if he had.

We moved to the war room within the hour.

The walls were carved stone, thick with runes meant to repel eavesdropping, magical or otherwise. Kieran had stripped off his formal coat and stood in a dark tunic now, blood still spattered across the cuff. He looked every inch the warrior prince he had once been, before crowns and thrones dulled his blade.

I watched as he bent over the wide map table, fingers trailing across troop placements and security markers.

"Three guards outside your door," he said. "All silenced without a sound."

"They weren’t killed?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Knocked out. Pressure points, expertly targeted. Temporary paralysis."

"So they didn’t want to alert the castle."

"No. They wanted it quiet. Clean. Untraceable."

Until I made noise.

Until I bled across the floor.

My eyes dropped to my hands, still stained with dried blood. I hadn’t bothered scrubbing them clean. Maybe I didn’t want to. A reminder that someone had tried to take my life.

"We need to find out who in the court knew about the relocation of my chambers," I said, moving beside him. "It wasn’t announced publicly. Only high-ranking officers and the inner circle would’ve known."

He glanced up. "You think it was political?"

"I think everything is political when power is shifting."

His silence told me he agreed.

The torchlight flickered, casting shadows across the maps. My gaze caught on a symbol, a mark etched near the palace grounds: a black crescent with an arrowhead through its curve.

Kieran followed my stare. "You know it?"

I hesitated. "It was a rebel sigil. Years ago. During the purge."

"The Hollow Crescent," he said darkly.

I nodded. "They were wiped out. Or so we thought."

He studied me. "You think this was them?"

I didn’t answer immediately. "The assassin didn’t fight like a rebel. They fought like someone trained in the old ways, the elite academies, before the collapse. That kind of precision doesn’t come from rebellion. It comes from inheritance. Legacy."

"Inheritance," he repeated, quiet.

I looked up. "The Houses."

He straightened, jaw locking. "You think a noble family sent them."

I didn’t need to answer. We both knew the answer already.

Kieran left at dawn to interrogate the assassin himself. I stayed behind — not because I was afraid, but because I needed clarity.

I laid still in the wooden bathtub, trying to wash away the scent of fear and steel. My fingers trembled when they pressed against the gash on my arm, and I told myself it was just the toxin.

But I knew it wasn’t.

Something deeper had fractured last night. Not just the illusion of safety. Not just the palace walls.

Me.

I stepped out and wrapped the towel around myself, breathing deep, centering. I wasn’t broken. Not yet.

The dressing room echoed with quiet as I pulled on the fresh tunic laid out for me simple, dark, unadorned. I didn’t want the court seeing me like this: injured, hunted. They couldn’t afford to know how close the blade had come.

When I emerged, an attendant was waiting silently by the door, her expression unreadable.

"You didn’t come last night," I said, watching her closely.

She bowed her head. "Forgive me, Highness. I was overwhelmed with other tasks."

I filed that away.

"Go," I said. "Send word to your head matron. I want to speak with her in private."

She nodded and vanished down the hall.

I moved to the balcony. The doors had been fixed, the hinges replaced, but the memory of them swinging open in the dark still haunted me. My fingers curled tightly around the rail.

Below, the city still slept in shadows. But the wind carried the scent of unrest.

Kieran returned near midmorning, his eyes grim.

"He won’t talk," he said.

"Not even under pressure?"

He shook his head. "Not even under pain. He’s been marked."

I stilled. "Blood-oathed?"

"Worse. Branded tongue. Ancient magic. If he speaks a name, it kills him."

"Then he’s fanatical."

"No," Kieran said, voice quieter. "He’s afraid."

That chilled me more than if he’d said otherwise.

He moved toward the fire, resting one hand on the mantle, the other wrapped tightly around a scroll. "He had this. Hidden in his boot."

I took it, unraveling it carefully. The parchment was old. Torn at the edges. But the script was unmistakable.

And the sigil at the bottom — the black crescent.

I read the words aloud.

> "Let her death be the signal. Let the gods see their fallen child broken beneath the stars. The reckoning begins with her blood."

My throat tightened.

Kieran’s gaze found mine.

"They think you’re the key."

"To what?"

"To the end of everything."

The head matron in charge of the attendants arrived shortly after, her hair braided tight, expression unreadable.

I dismissed the guards and Kieran with a glance, though he looked like he wanted to object. I gave him the smallest nod. I needed this moment alone.

When the door shut behind him, she bowed.

"You summoned me, Highness."

"You knew my chambers had been moved."

"Yes. I signed the authorization."

"And you sent my attendant on other errands last night."

She blinked once. "She said she hadn’t eaten. I told her the kitchen ledger needed confirming. Is that a crime now?"

"No. But being convenient is."

Her jaw ticked, only slightly.

I stepped forward, holding her gaze. "I need to know if you betrayed me, Fiona."

The air thickened. Her nostrils flared. "If I wanted you dead, I won’t be standing here. Would I?"

My stomach churned.

She was right.

But it didn’t make her innocent.

Only... capable.

I turned away, walking to the window. "I need to know who I can trust."

"I can be one of those people, my lady."

I didn’t speak.

Behind me, her voice softened.

"You can learn to trust me."

I turned. "Then help me."

Her lips parted in surprise.

"How can I be of help to you?"

"I want you to assemble a list," I said. "Anyone who had access to the relocation orders. Anyone with history in the old Houses. Anyone tied to the Hollow Crescent, no matter how thin the thread."

"The Hollow Crescent?"

"Yes."

She nodded slowly. "And what then?"

"Leave the rest to me. I will handle it from there."

"I will find them," I said watching Fiona leave. "Before they send another."

Night fell like a curtain drawn too quickly.

I didn’t sleep.

Neither did Kieran.

He remained in the armchair near the fire, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded. Guarding. Watching.

"I know what you’re doing," I said after a long stretch of silence.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You’re blaming yourself."

He didn’t deny it.

I crossed the room, standing before him, eyes burning.

"You saved my life, Kieran."

"And I’ll do it again," he said. "As many times as I have to."

I lowered myself into the seat beside him, curling my knees up. "What if I never get my powers back?"

He turned to me. "Then they’ll learn that you never needed them to be dangerous."

His words sank into me like fire into stone.

Outside, the moon hung full and bright, silver against a black sky.

And somewhere in the shadows beyond the hills, another dagger was already being sharpened.

But I wasn’t running.

Not anymore.

Let them come.

I would be ready.