The holding chambers were beneath the eastern wing of the demon castle, far below the polished floors and warm halls where children played and servants carried trays of fruit.
Down here, the walls wept moisture, the air tasted of rust, and the lamps burned blue—the color of pain, of magic that didn't soothe but took.
Caldris was awake when they entered.
He sat bound to a black iron chair, wrists sealed in runic cuffs that bit into his flesh whenever he moved.
His pale hair hung loose now, plastered to his forehead with sweat. His elegant physician's face was drawn tight with fear he was trying desperately to disguise as contempt.
It wasn't working.
Raveth looked at him and smiled.
Caldris went paler. His lips trembled.
Good, Malvoria thought. He understands at least one thing.
"Lord Caldris," Raveth said, her voice almost pleasant, the tone you'd use to greet a guest at dinner. "You're going to talk."
He lifted his chin. "I am a royal physician of the Celestian court. You have no authority to—"
Raveth crossed the room and struck the table beside him hard enough to crack the wood.
The sound was a thunderclap in the small chamber.
Caldris's teeth clacked together. A thin line of blood appeared on his lower lip where he'd bitten through.
"That sentence was already boring," Malvoria said from the doorway, arms folded. "Try another one."
Caldris looked between them, and something in his face crumbled. Not completely. Not yet. But the foundation had cracked.
The rules he had lived under: titles, protocols, the invisible armor of courtly position did not exist here.
Raveth placed a small roll of leather on the cracked table and opened it slowly.
She did not rush.
That was worse.
Inside lay instruments made not for killing, but for persuasion. Thin blades with edges that caught the blue light. Silver pins of graduated thickness.
Heat crystals that pulsed with a dull orange glow. A narrow clamp with teeth designed to grip bone. And beside them, almost mockingly, a small vial of healing solution.
Caldris stared at them, his breath coming faster.
Raveth noticed. "Don't worry," she said, picking up the thinnest blade. "We'll heal you after."
"That is supposed to comfort me?"
"No," Raveth said, turning the blade so it caught the light. "It's supposed to make sure I can keep asking questions."
Malvoria's mouth twitched despite herself.
Then Raveth began.
The first questions were simple.
"What was the hidden laboratory beneath the secondary wing?"
Caldris's jaw tightened. "I don't know what you're—"
Raveth's hand moved.
The blade slid into the meat of his thigh, just above the knee. Not deep enough to sever anything vital. Deep enough to make him scream.
He did.
A raw, animal sound that echoed off the stone walls.
Raveth twisted the blade once, watching his face, his eyes, the way his pupils dilated with shock and pain.
"I'm going to ask again," she said, her voice still pleasant. "And if you lie to me, I'm going to find something else to cut. Something you'll miss more."
"Authorized research," Caldris gasped, blood soaking through his fine trousers in a dark spreading stain. "It was authorized—"
"By?"
"The Crown."
"Names."
His jaw tightened again.
Raveth pulled the blade out. Caldris sobbed with relief.
Then she picked up one of the silver pins and drove it into the space between his collarbone and shoulder, where the nerves clustered like a nest of wires.
He screamed again. His body arched against the restraints, the runic cuffs burning his wrists as he fought against the pain.
"Names," Raveth repeated.
"THE QUEEN!" Caldris shrieked. "She authorized it! The Celestian queen herself!"
There it was.
Malvoria felt the air change.
Raveth did not smile. She pulled the pin free and set it down, then reached for a cloth to wipe Caldris's blood from her fingers. "For what purpose?"
"To protect the succession."
Malvoria pushed off the wall, her voice low and cold. "That is the kind of pretty phrase people use when the truth is hideous."
Caldris swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. Blood still seeped from his thigh. His shoulder was a mess of torn muscle.
"Princess Sarisa's attachment to the demon Lara became politically dangerous. Her Majesty believed the princess could be influenced through scandal and isolation."
"Neris," Raveth said.
The name hung in the air like smoke.
Caldris closed his eyes.
Raveth did not touch him this time. She simply waited, her hand resting on the leather roll, fingers brushing the handle of a wider blade.
He opened his eyes again. "The child was constructed from preserved demonic essence taken from Lara years ago, combined with compatible Celestian biological material. Accelerated growth. Stabilized with fire-thread binding."
Malvoria felt nausea rise cold and sharp in her throat. "Selene?"
"A paid witness," Caldris whispered. "Not the mother. She never carried him. She was chosen because she had a history in places Lara might have visited years ago. It made the story believable."
Raveth's eyes went black not figuratively. The irises darkened, the way they did when her dragon blood rose. "And the paternity test?"
"Real," Caldris said quickly, desperately, his words tumbling over each other. "It was real. That was the point. The child carries enough of Lara's essence to pass bloodline tests. Enough to use her fire."
Malvoria thought of Neris sitting quietly at breakfast, careful with his hands, frightened of adults.
Her fingers curled into her palms until her nails drew blood.
"Did the queen know he was abused?" Raveth asked.
Caldris said nothing.
Wrong choice.
Raveth leaned forward and grabbed his jaw, her fingers digging into the hinge until his mouth opened in a pained gasp.
She pressed her thumb into the soft tissue behind his teeth, and he gagged.
"I asked you a question," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "And I'm getting very tired of your silence."
She released him and stepped back.
Caldris spat blood. "The queen did not oversee daily conditioning. But she knew. She knew the handlers used force. She said fear made children obedient."
The room went very quiet.
Malvoria had to look away for one second, pressing her fist against the stone wall, because if she didn't, she would burn him where he sat. She would reduce him to ash and bone and scattered screams.
Raveth stood, her hands steady, her expression calm.
"Maelia," she said.
They left Caldris bleeding in the chair, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his fine clothes ruined with blood and sweat.
---
Maelia was awake too, but she was crying before they entered.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Silent tears on a narrow face, hands bound, ink-stained fingers clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
She had heard Caldris screaming. The walls were thick, but not thick enough.
She confessed sooner.
Not out of goodness. Out of fear.
Raveth still made sure every answer was complete.
She confirmed the laboratory structure, the stolen demonic samples, the queen's seal, the funding routes, the destruction orders after Sarisa's abduction.
She named three more researchers, two transport officers, and the hidden archive where older records had been copied before the move.
Then Raveth asked about the next vessel.
Maelia nearly broke down completely. "It wasn't finished. It was only in preparation."
"For what?" Malvoria demanded.
Maelia looked at her, trembling so hard the chains rattled. "A controllable heir."
Silence.
Elysia's unborn children flashed through Malvoria's mind with such violent force that her magic flared black-orange along the edges of the room, scorching the stone.
"Not yours," Maelia sobbed. "Not yours. The queen wanted Sarisa brought back first. Married to Vaelen. The next vessel was meant to secure a child from the Celestian royal line without waiting for Sarisa's consent."
Malvoria's voice came out very soft. "Say that again."
Maelia's voice broke. "They would use Sarisa's blood and Vaelen's material. Artificial conception. Accelerated development if needed. An obedient heir bound to the queen through soul-thread conditioning."
Raveth went utterly still.
That was worse than anger.
"She was going to make Sarisa into a blood source," Raveth said. Not a question.
Maelia could not answer.
She did not need to.
Malvoria turned away and pressed one hand to the stone wall, breathing through the urge to tear the whole chamber apart.
The queen had not simply tried to marry her daughter off. She had intended to harvest her future. Her blood. Her child. Her lineage.
No wonder Sarisa had felt like an offering.
She had been one.
Raveth stepped closer to Maelia, close enough that the woman flinched, expecting pain. "Where is the archive?"
Maelia gave the location immediately, her words tumbling out in a rush of terror. "A sealed reliquary under the queen's private chapel. Protected by three locks: blood, royal seal, and priest-key."
Raveth glanced toward Malvoria.
Malvoria nodded once. "Veylira will enjoy that."
---
By the time they finished, both prisoners were shaking, emptied of secrets for now. Caldris had lost enough blood to turn his skin gray. Maelia had bitten through her own lip and didn't seem to notice.
Raveth had gotten names, records, locations, methods, purpose, and enough spoken confession to turn suspicion into a blade.
As promised, healers were brought in afterward. Not gentle ones, but competent. They closed wounds with quick, impersonal efficiency. They stabilized breath. They dulled pain enough to keep the prisoners alive and useful.
Caldris and Maelia would live.
Uncomfortably.
Raveth wiped her hands clean in the corridor outside, the cloth coming away red. She looked almost serene.
Malvoria stared at the dark stone ahead, jaw tight enough to ache. Her hands were still shaking.
"Well," Raveth said, tossing the bloody cloth aside. "We have enough."
Malvoria's smile was slow, cold, and full of fire.
"Yes," she said. "Now we bury the queen."