Page 51 of Unseen Eye (Aetherian Chronicles #1)

As I reach for the handle, I notice the door is slightly ajar. Strange—I’m always careful to close it when I leave. Maybe Theo or Izzy were here earlier and forgot to shut it. Shrugging it off, I push the door open and freeze, my heart stuttering at the sight.

My room is a wreck. Furniture overturned, clothes scattered, and a pool of blood on the floor.

At its center lies a body. A scream builds in my throat, but I swallow it, my hand instinctively gripping the hilt of the dagger hidden in my leathers.

I sweep the room with my eyes, moving with purpose as I press against the walls, check under the low-slung furniture, and push aside heavy drapes.

My breath is shallow as I pull open the armoire one final time, fingers trembling on the handle. Nothing.

Slowly, I approach the body, which is still warm.

He hasn’t been here long. Crouching down, I look at his face and instantly recognize him as one of the guards from the barracks.

We’ve never spoken, but I’ve seen Theo talking to him more than once—he always seemed friendly.

My gaze shifts to the wall, where a message is scrawled in blood: “From darkness we will rise,” followed by a jagged marking.

My stomach twists. The mark is familiar—a symbol I last saw on Kendry’s tombstone, and now it’s staring back at me, a dark reminder of dangers lurking too close.

I hurry back downstairs, where the others are still arguing in the war room. As soon as I open the door, their voices cut off, their eyes locked on the blood staining my clothes.

“What the fuck happened?” Callon demands, shooting to his feet so fast his chair topples over. His eyes scan me for injuries, his jaw clenched tight.

“It’s not mine,” I manage, still reeling. Callon grips my shoulders, steadying me, though I realize it’s his hands that are trembling.

“Eva,” he repeats, voice edged with tension, “what the fuck happened?”

“Someone was in my room,” I finally manage to say. “It’s… it’s completely destroyed, and there’s a dead guard in there.” I look at Theo. “I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen you talking to him.”

At that, Izzy and Theo bolt upstairs, Theo drawing his sword. Callon, still holding onto me, asks, “Are you okay?”

“I think?” I reply, trying to make sense of it all. “Just another day in my life,” I joke, attempting to lighten the mood. Callon half-smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes before he lets go and follows the others. When we reach my room, Theo is already kneeling beside the guard.

“It’s Henry,” Theo says, looking up at Callon. “From the blood, it looks like it happened an hour or two ago.” Izzy, meanwhile, is focused on the message left behind. The signs of a struggle are clear—he wasn’t alone in here.

“Uh, guys, we have a bigger problem,” Izzy blurts out. Theo turns, and Callon moves to her side.

“From darkness we will rise,” Callon reads aloud, his gaze dropping to the jagged mark beneath it. “Damn.”

“The Survivors?” Izzy asks.

“Unfortunately,” Theo replies, locking eyes with Callon. “The real question is how they got in here without triggering the alarms.”

“Obviously, they didn’t,” Izzy gestures toward the dead guard. “He must’ve heard something and came to investigate.”

“Dammit,” Callon mutters. “We should’ve seen something like this coming.” He turns to me. “Eva, is anything missing? What could they have been looking for?”

I scan the room again, trying to remember if I had anything important. “I don’t think so. Unless they were after my journal and didn’t realize it’s downstairs with me.”

“Maybe,” Callon says, though he doesn’t look convinced. Glancing out the window at the moon, he sighs. “Won’t my father love a late-night wake-up call. Theo, stay with her. I’ll be back.”

After he leaves, I ask Theo, “What do they want from me?”

“Hell, if I know,” he says and shrugs. “But Callon’s right—this is too much to be a coincidence.” Theo continues investigating the room, pausing by the overturned desk and drawers. “They were searching for something when they were caught.”

Not long after, Callon returns with Drystan and a handful of other guards. Drystan, looking rather annoyed about being out of bed, wears a dressing gown over his night clothes.

“Fucking Survivors,” Drystan mutters, then turns to me. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Drystan walks over to where the message is scrawled on the wall. “Theo, I expect you to lead the investigation. I want to know how these bastards got in and what they were after.”

“Of course,” Theo replies. “I’ll report any updates immediately.”

“Good,” Drystan says, turning to Callon. “I trust you’ll look after the girl.”

“Obviously,” Callon responds, as if it’s the stupidest question of the day.

“No need for the attitude, Callon. I know you’re quite fond of her,” Drystan retorts, earning a glare from Callon. “I expect to see both of you in the morning. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Drystan exits the room, the guards shuffling out behind him.

“Good-for-nothing king,” Callon mutters under his breath. He turns back to me. “In the meantime, it’s not safe for you here.”

“I really don’t think they’d return so quickly,” I reply.

“Are you suggesting you want to sleep here with all the blood and the dead body?” He arches a brow.

“Well, no,” I admit, “though I’m tired enough to sleep anywhere. “But I’m sure there are a million other empty rooms I can use.”

“She can sleep in mine,” Izzy offers.

“No,” Callon says firmly, already stuffing some of my clothing into a nearby sack. “She’s coming back with me.”

“I’m what?” I blurt out, my heart pounding at the thought. Me and Callon, alone in his place? I don’t think that’s a good idea.

“Yes,” Callon says, his princely tone leaving no room for argument. “No one would be dumb enough to come there. Besides, didn’t you say you were tired enough to sleep anywhere?” He smirks, challenging me.

“Whatever, Your Highness,” I mutter, gesturing for him to lead the way.

“Damn,” Theo says with a smirk. “She must be tired. That’s the fastest she’s ever agreed to anything.”

“Maybe we should sleep-deprive her more often,” Callon adds as we head toward the door. “Theo, see if you can figure anything else out. I’d like to keep this quiet for now—no need to alert anyone else.”

As Callon and I leave the castle, we slip out the back to avoid attention and wind through the dimly lit alleys to his place. The narrow streets are eerily quiet, as if the entire city is holding its breath, wary of Callon, whose face still holds an angry scowl.

“You might want to look less angry,” I suggest as we near his home. “People might notice something’s wrong.”

“Or they’ll just think you pissed me off,” he counters, though his expression softens slightly.

I can’t resist asking the question that’s been burning in my mind. “Do you know what the Survivors want?” I’m still in the blood-soaked clothes, the dried stains heavy on my skin.

“No,” Callon snaps, “but I intend to find out.” He unlocks the door with a flick of his wrist and holds it open for me.

“Ever so polite,” I joke, kicking off my bloodied shoes. “If only Baron knew you had such manners,” I say with a laugh.

“Don’t mention him tonight,” Callon says. The stormy look in his eyes returning. “The extra bedroom is upstairs on the left. It has a washroom. I’ll be up shortly to see if you need anything.” He gives me one last look before turning away.

I make my way upstairs and find the space is just as nicely decorated as downstairs. The bedroom is basic—a large bed, a dresser off to the side, and an empty bookshelf gathering dust in the corner, a sign of how little this room is used.

After washing the blood off, I realize Callon still has my sack of clothes, so I pull on an oversized shirt I found in one of the dresser drawers. The fabric hangs loose, unfamiliar, but at least it’s clean. I’m combing my hair when there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Hey—” Callon starts as I open the door, but he stops dead when he sees me—what I’m wearing, or rather, the lack of it.

His eyes darken, flicking over me as if trying to take in every detail all at once.

He clears his throat, visibly gathering himself.

“I know it’s late, but I thought you might be hungry. You didn’t eat much today.”

My heart flutters as I take the plate from him, and notice the sack of my clothes in his other hand. The thought of food turns my stomach, but the gesture is so sweet I can’t help but smile. “Thanks,” I reply, setting the plate down on the dresser as he steps in.

“Sorry about the mess in here,” he says, glancing around. “Not many people use this room.”

I open my mouth to respond, then pause, realizing what he’s implying. Not many people use this room—because they’re in his room instead. “Well, hopefully, you don’t have any guests coming tonight,” I reply, trying not to sound jealous, but pretty sure I fail. Epically.

He stares at me for a moment, amusement playing at the edges of his mouth before it tilts into a smirk. “Why, Eva, jealousy isn’t becoming of you. Don’t worry, you’re my only guest tonight.” His voice dips, rich and steady, lingering on guest in a way that makes the room feel much warmer.

I find myself unable to look away. His confidence, the way he carries himself with that effortless command, is undeniable—and devastatingly attractive.

The sharp angles of his jaw, the way his hair falls slightly tousled, and the way his shirt clings to his muscular frame make my heart pound in my chest.

He’s changed, now wearing a white shirt that hints at the strength beneath, paired with loose sleeping pants that somehow make him look even more tempting.

He stands there, making it impossible to think about anything else but how agonizingly close we are.

His gaze draws me in, and I feel like I’m helplessly caught in his orbit.