Chapter 2 THE UNSEEN WHISPERERS

I didn't remember leaving the ballroom. I remembered blood. I remembered the moment everything I knew turned silent. But the act of walking out, of leaving him behind, I couldn't find that in my memory.

Now, the silence had become something different.

The car interior was too still. Too dark. The window reflected my face like a ghost trying to surface. Blood dried against my wrist in dark lines. I could smell it. My skin didn't feel like mine.

Kaelen sat across from me in the back seat. Not a word from him. Not even a glance. The only movement was the rise and fall of his chest.

He was breathing.

That was more than I could say for my father.

"You're just going to sit there?" I asked.

His eyes didn't move.

I pushed harder. "Say something."

Still, nothing.

"I'm serious. Say something now. Anything."

Finally, his eyes locked with mine, He was calm, distant and controlled.

"I didn't order the hit."

"That's all?" I asked. "You didn't order it?"

He didn't blink. "You think I arranged it?"

I laughed once, bitter. "I think your last name is Dravik. That's enough of a reason."

"If I had arranged it, I would not have missed my target. And you wouldn't be in this car right now."

The chill in his tone didn't surprise me. But the honesty did.

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" I said. "Knowing you're efficient enough to kill both of us if you wanted to?"

"It's supposed to show you that whoever planned this wanted you to live."

I felt something shift inside me. Not understanding. Not fear. Something cold and new. A calculation forming.

"So they killed him and left me?" I asked. "Why?"

"You're not a witness," Kaelen said. "You're a symbol. A piece that still holds value."

"A hostage?"

He didn't answer.

I looked down at my blood-streaked hands. "He was my father. And I married you on the same day he died. Do you know what kind of curse that is?"

"I know what kind of world we live in."

"No. You know what kind of world you built."

Kaelen didn't move. "You were never supposed to see that happen."

"And yet I did."

I leaned forward slowly, hands gripping my knees.

"I should hate you," I said.

His voice stayed level. "Then hate me."

That should have made it easier.

But it didn't.

I turned toward the window and said nothing more. I was afraid of what might come out if I kept going.

The car turned sharply. We passed under a stone arch. My eyes lifted and saw the chapel. Quiet. Small. Built to hold memory and grief, not answers.

"Stop the car," I said.

Kaelen knocked once against the divider. The driver pulled over.

I stepped out, barefoot, the gravel stabbing against my skin. I welcomed the pain. It helped. It told me I was still here.

Kaelen followed. I didn't ask him to. He just moved like gravity dragged him in the same direction.

"Why are you still following me?"

"If I weren't here, you wouldn't make it inside."

"Why do you care?"

He didn't speak.

"Don't pretend this is about honour," "You didn't even look at him."

"I did."

"Then why didn't you help him?"

"There were too many shooters," he replied. "I was watching the exits. Watching hands. Watching for the next bullet."

"He was your father-in-law."

"He was a target."

I turned to face him. "You say that like it means something. Like it permits you to stand still."

"I stand when standing matters."

"You're a monster."

"I'm still breathing."

"That's your defence.

"It's what's left.

We stood in silence for a long moment. The wind stirred the loose strands of hair clinging to my damp neck.

"He was the last person who saw me," I said. "Not for what I am now. Not for this marriage. Not for this contract. But for whom I used to be. For the girl who ran barefoot through the garden and climbed his desk to demand answers."

Kaelen's voice was softer. "He made you strong."

"No, He made me obedient. You're the one trying to break me."

"You were never meant to be broken."

I turned away.

I walked toward the chapel door, and for the first time, he didn't follow.

Inside, it was cold. The kind of cold that seeped into bone. I found the wooden pews empty. Just a long white sheet across the altar.

My father lay beneath it.

No music. No prayers. Just candles flickering like they were waiting to be extinguished.

I sat beside him, folding my hands in my lap.

"You said this was necessary," I whispered. "That this marriage was the only way. Did you know you would die for it?"

The silence didn't offer comfort. It didn't offer anything.

"You made me do this. You made me marry someone I don't trust. Smile in a dress I didn't choose. And now you're gone, and I'm still here."

I stared at the edge of the white cloth, willing myself to lift it.

But I couldn't.

I wanted to remember him standing, not lying here with coins in his eyes and nothing left in his chest.

"You told me I would lead someday. That I would keep the name alive. But you never told me what I'd have to lose to do it."

The doors creaked behind me.

I turned sharply, hand moving to the blade hidden in the fold of my gown.

A figure stood just beyond the door.

Tall. Dressed in mourning black. The veil over her face.

"Who are you?" I asked. I didn't lower the blade.

The woman lifted her veil.

I blinked.

"Vionne?"

My cousin stepped forward.

"I came as soon as I heard," she said.

"You didn't come to the wedding," I said.

"I wasn't invited."

"That's not true. You refused the invitation."

"Maybe I did."

She walked forward slowly, her shoes not making a sound against the polished stone.

"He sent for me," she said.

"What?"

"Your father. Two days before the wedding. He said he didn't trust some of the voices around him. He said someone close had changed. That he needed eyes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't think he was serious."

"And now?"

"Now he's dead."

I stood.

She looked down at the white sheet. "You think this was just about territory? This wasn't a strategy. This was removal. They wanted him gone. You were never the target."

"How do you know that?"

"Because if you were, they wouldn't have made it so loud."

I narrowed my eyes. "You think it was someone inside the house?"

"I think the people who smile the most often carry the deepest knives."

I breathed in slowly. "He didn't tell me any of this."

"No," she said. "I don't think he did."

I studied her. "Why are you here?"

"Because you need someone who doesn't want your title. Someone who isn't afraid to speak when the walls start whispering."

"What do you want in return?"

She looked up at me.

"To keep the name alive."

Then she walked past me. One hand brushed my shoulder. Brief. Cold.

When I turned again, she was already gone.

I sat back down.

This time, I lifted the sheet.

And I didn't cry.

I just memorized the lines of his face and told myself to remember.

Whoever did this would pay.

Even if it took everything I had left.