I shifted slightly, turning so I could see the others. Shaelith had her eyes closed, but her breathing was too controlled to be sleep. She was thinking, strategising. Cindrissian was examining the walls with the kind of focus that suggested he was looking for weaknesses, structural flaws, anything that could be exploited.
Fenric had finally stopped thrashing, though the set of his jaw made it clear it was taking everything he had to stay still. Darian was watching the door with predatory intensity, like he was cataloguing guard rotations and shift changes even from inside the cell.
Brynelle’s fingers were moving in small, precise patterns against her thigh. Without her magic, they were just gestures. But muscle memory was a powerful thing.
And Linc... Linc was staring at nothing with an expression that made my chest ache. Like he’d already calculated every possible outcome and found them all wanting.
Varyth’s arms tightened around me. “Whatever happens,” he breathed against my ear, “don’t give them anything. Don’t fight unless you have no choice. Stay alive, Isara. That’s all that matters.”
48
Shadows brushed against the floor like restless animals, stirred by thoughts Ashterion hadn’t spoken aloud.
“She shouldn’t have them.” Elowyn’s tone was sharp.
“The human is dangerous,” he said, voice low. “Letting her walk unbound in the Luceren Court is a risk. Xyliria knew that.”
He didn’t say what he wanted to. What he couldn’t. Not in front of them.
“And what’s the plan?” Across the chamber, Merrick paced back and forth. “We kill her before she loses control?”
Elowyn didn’t flinch. “I’m not advocating for it,” she said, the words brittle with restraint. “But letting Xyliria hold dominion over shadow fire? That would be worse. We’ve seen what she does with less.”
“We’re not killing anyone just because of what their powermightbecome,” Merrick growled.
Ashterion’s gaze flicked to him. He understood Merrick’s reaction—understood it too well—but he didn’t have the energy to soothe it. Not tonight.
“We’re not killing her,” he said.
Merrick’s shoulders eased a fraction, until Ashterion added, “Not unless we have to.”
That stopped the room.
“We need answers.” Ashterion straightened slowly. “That fire should’ve died out centuries ago. So why is it inside her? Why now? Whyher?”
“And if Xyliria breaks her before we find out?” Elowyn asked.
His answer was immediate. “I won’t let that happen.”
Neither Elowyn nor Merrick argued, but the weight of their doubt settled thick in the air.
Ashterion turned to face them fully. “You both need to stay in the city. Lay low.”
Merrick’s jaw tensed. “Ash?—”
“I’m not asking. If this unravels, someone needs to keep the court from falling apart. Only come to the castle if it’s urgent. Tell Xyliria whatever you need to—trade negotiations, merchant interference, travel delays. Lie. Stay away.”
They bristled but nodded.
Ashterion watched the two of them—Elowyn rigid as steel, Merrick tight with silent fury—and felt the weight of the moment press deeper into his ribs.
Elowyn didn’t linger. She turned on her heel and strode from the room, her cloak flaring behind her.
Merrick stayed.
He always did.
The silence between them pulsed with unspoken things.
