“If she passes,” Xyliria said, “perhaps I’ll be convinced of your progress. I do so love loyal pets. And if she fails…” Hersmile turned sharp. “Well. I’ve been receiving letters again. From Ryleth.”
That name. That fucking name.
Ashterion stared ahead, jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.
Xyliria knew what it did to him, what Ryleth’s name meant. That was why she said it. “He’s been sopolitelately. Courteous. Hopeful. Eager to be of service. I thought perhaps we could reward him.”
Ashterion turned his head, slowly, and met her gaze.
But all it earned him was her laughter.
“So tense, my love,” she whispered. “Relax. It might not come to that. She might surprise us.”
She tilted her head, mock-thoughtful.
“But we shall see…” Her hand brushed his thigh. “You’ll watch, won’t you? I want you to see it. The moment she breaks. The moment she becomes like you.” She leaned in, lips at his ear. “And if she doesn’t? If she fights me? Then Ryleth gets his prize.”
The doors creaked open. Always a performance.
Two figures were dragged in, boots scraping stone.
Isara stumbled but caught herself, chin already lifting in defiance. Her tunic hung in strips, half-dried blood staining one sleeve. Her lip was split. One eye swelling. But her spine was unbroken.
Darian followed, quieter. Bloodied, yes. But…quiet. Shoulders back. Face unreadable.
Xyliria rose like a queen unveiling a gift.
“There she is,” she cooed. “The rebel flame. Did you sleep well, darling?”
Ashterion’s gut twisted.
Isara’s eyes flicked past Xyliria, to him.
He couldfeelXyliria watching. Waiting.
If Isara so much as hinted at their agreement—at the secrets traded in whispers, the surrender of trust in a place neither of them should have had it—Xyliria would gut Darian before she finished the sentence.
“Tell me, my dear,” Xyliria said, circling. “How have your nights with my husband been? Did Ashterion make a good bedwarmer?”
Ashterion stared at the floor.
Don’t answer. Lie.
He risked a glance up. Isara was staring directly at him.Fuck.
“I feel sorry for you,” she said quietly.
The room stilled.Ashterion’s head snapped up.
No. No, no, no.
Xyliria arched a brow. “Do you?”
Isara turned to face Xyliria at the question, but she didn’t answer.
Ashterion’s heart thudded. He tried not to show it, but something in him panicked.He had no idea what she was about to say. No idea what blade she was drawing, or who she planned to stab with it.
“Why is that,” he asked, barely keeping the tremor from his words. “Little pet?”
