“Then you have no warriors,” Nyraxes scoffs, her disdain palpable.
“Do you not comprehend that if we fail to stand united, the Legion will pick us off one by one?” Daed says.
“I am not afraid of humans,” Horax laughs derisively.
“You are afraid ofher,” Daed snaps, casting a pointed glance toward me as I sit silently upon the throne. “I can see it in your eyes. Why else would you seek her exile?”
Horax remains silent, but the fury etched across his face speaks volumes. Kaelus turns his gaze to Nyraxes. “Is that Mor’Thravar’s stance as well?”
With a playful twist of her curls, Nyraxes’s demeanor is unsettling, her charm concealing a predatory edge. “Mor’Thravar isundecided, my king.”
The houses gasp in disbelief, and I feel the shock ripple through the room; I had assumed Mor’Thravar would be the first to refuse us.
Kaelus chooses his words carefully. “What is it you want?”
Nyraxes fixes her narrowed eyes on him. “Release my brother immediately.”
A chill runs down my spine, memories flooding my mind of the monster who dragged me from my bed, whispering horrors that still echo in my ears. Kaelus’s hesitation draws a surge of impatience from Daed.
“Father,” he growls.
Kaelus raises a hand, silencing him. “If we release Modok, will you fight?”
“Yes,” Nyraxes replies with unnerving calm, drawing gasps from the conclave. Her lips curve into a wicked smile. “After he guts your human like a pig.”
Daed’s rage ignites, and he lunges at her. She draws her daggers, but her court quickly restrains her while Reon wraps his arms around Daed, attempting to contain the fury surging within him.
“You’re a savage, Nyraxes,” Ilyra sneers, disdain dripping from her voice.
Horax steps forward, eyes glinting with challenge. “I didn’t realize you had a soft spot for humans, Ilyra.”
Ilyra’s anger flares as Sarberos raises his hands, demanding calm. “Enough!”
Vashar and Vasheeth confront the red-eyed Lord of Thal’Morven, their voices sharp. “You speak of dwindling numbers,” one says. “As if you alone have suffered losses to the humans.” The other growls, “What makes Thal’Morven’s lives worth more than any others?”
The argument escalates, threats hanging heavy in the air while Daed and Nyraxes circle each other like wolves. The tensionmounts, and suddenly, a loud crack pierces the chaos; a member of the Fyn’Rothar court collapses, blood spewing from his broken nose. The room erupts into violence, a frenzy of fists and fury.
Kaelus attempts to restore order, but his voice is lost amid the clamor. Even Lanneth stands from her throne, backing away, anger etched on her face as the lords inch closer to brutality.
My hands grip the throne, knuckles white, as I become transfixed with the chaos.
This is how Fae behave at court, and they think us the savages?
“Your Highness!”
I look up to see Arax pushing through the turmoil, determination blazing in his eyes. Rising to my feet, I reach for him as he arrives at the dais. He takes my hand, lifting me onto his hip, sword drawn, weaving through the turmoil, shoving aside anyone who gets too close.
Once we break free, Frane is waiting. “I will take the princess to her chambers,” she commands sharply. “Protect the prince, Arax.”
Arax’s expression twists with uncertainty. “It’s my duty to protect the princess.”
“Do as I command, Blade,” Frane hisses, her voice low but firm.
Arax glances at me, but my shock renders me speechless.
He nods to Frane and turns back to the raging tempest before the throne.
Frane grips my wrist tightly, her urgency palpable. “Come with me, now,” she snaps, pulling me away.
