By the time we reach them, my lungs burn.
She slams the door open, and it crashes against the wall.
The world on the other side punches me in the chest so hard I can't breathe. Torches slam in unison against the stone floor, a heavy, punishing thud that vibrates straight into my ribs. Hundreds of voices chant in a dark, guttural rhythm, each syllable rolling through the air like an ancient curse. Fire lunges upward from bonfires surrounding the stage, smoke spiraling toward the massive ceiling of the underground arena.
Two guillotines sit at the center of it all. Kirill and Fiona are locked into them, naked from the waist up, throats pressed into carved wooden grooves. The polished blades hang over their heads, catching firelight as they wait to drop. Knights flank them with swords held high. The crowd hisses and moans, hungry for royal blood.
Ulrich raises his arm, mid-sentence, voice booming like he's about to deliver holy judgment. "By the power vested in me by the Omni?—"
"Stop!" Valentina's voice tears through the noise.
My body snaps into fight mode. I roar over her, "We have proof!"
Torches freeze mid-strike. The pounding stops. The chanting collapses into a shock-filled silence that buzzes inside my brain.
Hundreds of skull-masked faces whip toward us.
Kirill jerks his head as far as the wood allows him. Fiona's terrified eyes lock onto Valentina. Tears streak her cheeks. Her hair tanglesaround her tiara. They're both seconds from death, and explosions of rage detonate through my chest.
I take the stairs two at a time, leaping onto the stage. Knights shift at the edges, but I ignore them. Heat from the bonfires slams up at me, thick with smoke, sweat, and panic.
"Stand back or you will be next!" Ulrich bellows.
"We have proof," I snarl, cutting across the sacrificial deck. I slam my shoulder into the executioner near Fiona and shove him off the platform.
He staggers, catches himself on his hands, and stares at me through his mask.
Across the stage, another executioner reaches for the release by Kirill, but he never touches it. Sean appears like a weapon unleashed and crashes into him, knocking the guy across the blood-splattered boards. He snaps, "Get the fuck away from the king."
The crowd explodes in hissing and shrieks. Firelight twists over skull masks and white satin gowns, turning the arena into a fever dream filled with demons.
Zara's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and regal. "I declare an Act of Betrayal! Jytte and Ulrich Koch, you are hereby condemned!"
Every head swings toward her.
Jytte chokes on her breath. "You can't do that!"
Zara marches toward the stage with lethal precision. "I am the successor queen. I can, and I will."
Ulrich jabs a finger at Sean. "They're lying to protect his sister!"
"We're not. We have proof," Valentina insists, moving toward Devika, an Indian woman on the Royal Council.
Ulrich snaps his chin at the executioners. "Get in position!"
I place myself in front of Fiona's neck, blocking the guillotine's drop point. My voice lowers into the threat I only use when I mean to end someone. "Step closer, and I'll choke the air out of you."
Sean growls across the stage, "Same."
"Knights, get into position. We have an act of hostility upon us!" Jytte commands.
Swords rise. Boots shuffle. The heat at my back intensifies as the bonfires swell, flames licking at the air.
Devika says in an impossibly calm tone, "No one moves."
"We have confessions that these two plotted to overthrow Kirill and Fiona. It's all here," Valentina says, pulling out her phone and clicking on a video.
Devika takes the phone. She hits play.
