He wasn’t just a king. He wasn’t just my father.
He was the wound Elydor never healed from.
“Balthor, call them off.”
The king of Aetheria, now stood beside his daughter. Bodies all around us. The ground split in more places than I could count. Buildings around us, demolished. But it would be just the beginning. All knew what a battle between the three most powerful rulers of Elydor meant.
The palace would be destroyed.
Balthor’s gaze, as hard and unforgiving as ever, found mine. Kael’s.
“You stand between me and our enemy. You’ve chosen your sides, and now you will fall with the rest of them.”
I tightened my grip, heart hammering. Whatever fate awaited, it was coming for me now.
It was coming for all of us. Just when I’d found her. Lyra could not get to me, nor I her, from across the deep chasm, but she was there. Standing beside the princess and her father with Queen Nerys looking on.
“I chose you. He”—I gestured to Kael—“chose you. For decades. But you chose hate over both of us.”
My hand twitched. Another explosion of magic like the one that had accompanied our clan would end tragically for too many.
The air thickened. This wasn’t just another battle… it was the reckoning of bloodlines. Kael’s power pulsed beside mine, answering our father’s and cracking the stones beneath our feet. The fire around us seemed to hesitate, caught between thunder and silence, as if waiting to see which of us would fall first.
Kael moved closer to me. So close, we were nearly touching. It wasn’t difficult to sense the unease, seeing us united in this way, among our warriors. It was them I spoke to.
“Well done,” I shouted. “A surprise attack against Aethralis has never been executed before in Elydor’s history. To what end, Father?”
“He will not listen to reason,” Kael said, loud enough for me, and no one else, to hear.
No. He would not. It had been some time since he’d done so. I’d been blinded by memories of the father he once was to have overlooked the fact.
My chest constricted as Father flexed his fingers, the gesture small but noticeable enough since it was one we’d seen many, many times before.
Apparently, the Aetherian king had as well, and he would take no chances with his daughter’s safety, having seen what our father was capable of. He didn’t move his hand, but Galfrid was close enough to us that his expression was not difficult to interpret.
I cannot do this.
It was a silent plea to Kael, but somehow, he heard it, nonetheless. He grabbed my right hand—something he’d not done since we were young ones —leaving my most powerful weapon, my left hand, free.
“Blood answers blood.” The words, if not the crack in his voice, were my brother’s. No one could do it but us.
I squeezed Kael’s hand, and at the same time as the King of Gyoria made a fist, Kael and I dealt the killing blow. He anchored the fissure as I kept it so tight, none but our father fell through.
I heard the gasps. Knew they weren’t for the death of the Gyorian king but for the kind of precision magic that had likely never been seen before. I certainly had no notion such a thing were possible.
It would not have been. Not without my brother by my side.
We released each other’s hand as deafening silence settled on all those gathered.
The Stone, at times restless and others, silent, released an energy impossible to ignore. With the shock of our father’s death having not yet registered, I reached for it, almost without thinking.
This time, there was no mistake.
It glowed as I’d only seen it do before for my father.
Every Gyorian warrior, including my brother, fell to their knees. They could be killed in such vulnerable positions as that. But would not be, of course. Neither Galfrid nor Mevlida nor Nerys would interfere now. They were mine to command.
And probably, I’d known it for some time. It had just been easier to deny it rather than admit my father’s days had been numbered.
