He stood cloaked in shadow, his face a mirror of old portraits whispered about in council halls and cursed in the dark.
Veralin.
My grandfather.
His eyes glowed with crimson fire.
Andhe smiledas if he’d been waiting.
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Iwoke with a jolt, heart pounding, skin damp with sweat.
The images still clung to the edges of my mind,blood,everywhere, running in rivers between the stones of the Ascension Grounds. My friends, mysquad, lifeless at my feet. Kaelith’s roar echoing through a sky that rained fire. My hands…soakedin red.
His face had hovered above it all, Veralin, my grandfather, smiling like it was all unfolding according to plan.
I sat up slowly, breath catching in my throat.
The others were still asleep, curled into blankets and quiet dreams. I didn’t share my unrest. I couldn’t. Not when they finally lookedpeaceful.
Instead, I swung my legs over the side of the bunk and sat in the quiet, rubbing my temples, trying to calm the chaos still storming in my chest.
I was still awake when the knock came at the barracks door.
A castle courier stood outside, his posture straight and eyes careful.
“Prince Rayne has requested your presence,” he said simply.
Relief broke through the weight on my chest like sunlight through clouded glass.
Finally.
I followed the courier without question, boots crunching on the gravel paths as we made our way toward the eastern wing of the castle. But even as the ache in my chest eased, questions brewed.
Why had Zander been absent yesterday?
When the kingdom waschoosing sides, when banners were raised, when the court teetered on the edge of open division.
Where had he been?
The courier led me through the eastern wing of the castle, nodding once before stopping at a thick mahogany door carved with royal sigils. He didn’t knock. Just stepped back and gestured.
“He’s inside.”
I nodded, heart still unsteady from the night’s dreams, but steadier now that I was about to face Zander again. Maybe I’d finally get answers.
I opened the door.
The moment it cracked wide, a blur of black slammed into me, fast and silent.
My back hit the stone wall with a thud, the air punched from my lungs as a gloved hand went for my throat, another reaching for the dagger at my belt.
Reflex took over.
I jammed my elbow into his ribs and kicked off the wall, forcing us both backward into the room. We crashed onto the floor, rolling. He was lean but trained, his black leather armor sewn with silence in mind—an assassin’s make. His blade slashed for my side, grazing cloth and nicking skin, but I twisted, pain fueling my fury.
