I did not open the door.
The man on the other side waited in silence for a few seconds. Then the latch rattled harder. Wood creaked under the pressure.
"Last warning, Voss."
I kept the dagger low and my body between the door and the two women. Seraphina’s eyes were fixed on the wood. Isolde stood very still, head turned toward the sound, listening the way she always did.
The door shook once under a heavy shoulder. The old latch held. It shook again. On the third hit the wood around the bolt cracked and splintered. I stepped back and raised the dagger.
The door burst inward.
A tall man in dark leather stepped through the broken frame. The silver crest of Aldemoor sat on his chest. A curved saber was already in his hand. The tip stopped two inches from my chest.
"Put her down, Voss dog," he said. His voice was cold and steady, the voice of a man used to being obeyed. "Step away from the Princess, or I take your head."
I did not move.
My muscles were still heavy from the last days.
This was not a common soldier or a hired blade.
The way he held the saber, the perfect balance in his stance, told me he was a real swordsman - the kind who had survived real wars.
"I am putting her down," I said.
I bent slowly, making no sudden movements, and set Seraphina against the wall. The moment her weight left my shoulder the man lunged.
The saber came up in a fast diagonal cut aimed at my throat.
I threw myself backward.
The blade cut the collar of my coat and grazed the skin above my collarbone.
Pain flared hot and thin.
I landed hard on the stone, dagger up, and caught the next thrust.
Steel rang against steel.
The force of the blow drove me back two full steps.
"Stop!"
Seraphina’s voice cut through the room, rough but clear and loud enough to stop him.
The man froze with the saber raised for a killing downward strike. He turned his head toward her. The murder in his eyes cracked and became something else - pain, loyalty, and confusion.
"Princess Seraphina." He dropped to one knee, though he kept his body firmly between me and her. "Forgive the delay. I tracked the transports as fast as I could. I am here to take you away from this filth."
"Take me where?" Seraphina asked. She could not move her head, but her golden eyes burned into him.
"To the capital. Prince Alaric has prepared his personal healers. He awaits you. Once you are healed and wed to him, Aldemoor will be granted full autonomy. We only need to bring you to him safely."
Seraphina let out a short, bitter sound that was almost a laugh.
"Autonomy. You are a fool, Kaelen. Alaric does not want an autonomous Aldemoor. He wants a chained banner to parade in front of his court. He wants my people’s loyalty bought with my body and my name."
Kaelen flinched as if the words had struck him physically. "Princess... the Prince swore an oath on the Crown’s faith. It is our only chance to rebuild the homeland. This Voss bastard is using you as a hostage."
"This Voss bastard is the only reason I am still breathing." Seraphina’s voice rose, rough from the cold and the earlier choking.
"My own regents paralyzed me and sold me.
Alaric plans to lock me in a gilded cage and call it salvation.
Cassian forced the curse back down my spine with his own body when it tried to kill me last night.
I will not go to Alaric."
Kaelen stared at her.
His eyes moved to the dark bruised lines still fading on my forearms where the curse had bitten into me.
He looked at the blood on my clothes, the broken door, and the quiet way Isolde stood in the corner listening to every word.
"He has turned your mind," Kaelen said, but the certainty in his voice was weaker than before. "I will not leave you with this man."
He stood. A thin blue wind aura began to gather around the edge of his saber. The air in the room grew sharper.
I raised the dagger, knowing it would not be enough against a real aura-infused blade if he decided to finish the cut.
Seraphina spoke again, colder this time.
"If you try to take me by force, Kaelen, you are no better than the men who threw me face-down in the mud. I am staying. That is an order from your princess."
The aura around the saber flickered. Kaelen’s jaw worked. For a long moment the only sounds were the drip of water somewhere in the walls and Isolde’s tight, controlled breathing.
Finally Kaelen lowered the blade a fraction.
"I cannot abandon you," he said. The words came out hard. "If you will not come to the capital, then I stay. I will watch this bastard every hour. The moment he turns on you, I will put him down myself."
He looked at me with open, undisguised hatred.
"You heard the Princess. You live for now, Voss. But if she dies under your care, or if I see one wrong move, your head leaves your shoulders. That is a promise."
I did not lower the dagger until he stepped fully into the room and put his back to the wall opposite me, where he could see both me and the broken door.
Isolde spoke from the corner, quiet and sharp.
"Another loyal dog. Wonderful. How many more people are going to try to own us before the day is over?"
Kaelen’s eyes flicked to her once, then away. He did not answer. He kept the saber across his knees and his attention on me.
I sat down slowly against the wall near Seraphina, keeping the dagger within reach.
The thin cut on my collarbone stung every time I breathed.
The room felt smaller now - three people who did not trust each other and one who openly wanted me dead.
Outside, the toxic haze still hung over the corpses on the ground floor. Somewhere farther out on the road, more riders would be coming - Church, Marcher lords, or both.
Kaelen did not look away from me.
Seraphina closed her eyes for the first time in hours. Isolde stayed awake, listening to every shift of weight and every breath in the room.
The keep was no longer just the three of us.