The silence that follows is absolute.
Then his father laughs—a real laugh this time, edged with something that might almost be respect.
"She has fire, I'll give her that." He looks at Rhystan. "You chose poorly in many ways, boy. But at least you chose someone with spine."
"I chose someone worth dying for." Rhystan's voice is steady. "Worth killing for. Worth destroying everything for, if it comes to that. So make your choice, Father. Leave now and let us do what needs doing. Or stay and find out exactly how far I'm willing to go."
Father and son stare at each other across the cracked flagstones.
The priests wait.
The clouds press down.
And I stand with my hand in Rhystan's, my children shifting in my belly, my fate balanced on the edge of a blade.
"Three hours," his father says finally. "You have until sunset. If the ritual fails—if she dies, if the children die, if any part of this foolish gamble doesn't pay off—I'll be back. With more than six dragons."
He shifts without waiting for a response—bones cracking, scales erupting, wings unfurling into something massive and ancient and terrible. The other dragons launch with him, priests clinging to their backs, blessed weapons glinting as they spiral upward into the heavy clouds.
Within moments, they're gone.
Rhystan doesn't move. Just stands there staring at the sky, his hand still gripping mine, his whole body vibrating with tension.
"Three hours," I say quietly.
"Three hours." He turns to look at me, and there's something fierce and desperate in his expression. "Are you ready?"
I think about everything that's led to this moment. The claiming that should have killed me. The contamination slowly transforming my body. The pregnancy I didn't know about, the tea that was poisoning our bond, the betrayal that shattered my trust. The weeks of research, the nights of practicing ancientwords, the slow painful rebuilding of something I thought was destroyed forever.
I think about my daughter, fragile and fighting inside me.
My son, carrying a curse he never asked for.
The man standing beside me, who destroyed my trust and has been trying to earn it back ever since.
"Yes," I tell him. "I'm ready."
His hand tightens on mine.
"Then let's end this curse."
We walk back into the castle together, toward the throne room and the silver circle and whatever comes next.
Three hours until sunset.
Three hours until everything changes.
34
Rhystan
My father has never beena patient man.
The three hours he promised last barely two.
I'm in the throne room with Kess and the mystic, lighting the braziers, filling the space with herb-smoke that's supposed to prepare her body for magical trauma. The sun is still a hand's width above the horizon when the air pressure drops like a stone.
"He's back." I'm moving before the words finish leaving my mouth. "Early. With reinforcements."
