“If this is a raid,” Vesryn said, tipping his glass of wine toward Lykor, “then I’ll join you. I’ll bring the rangers. We’ve grievances of our own to settle with the king.”
Lykor’s eyes flicked to him in an unreadable stare before he gave the barest nod.
With Lykor vowing blood and Vesryn offering rangers, they might free the prisoners in a single, decisive stroke. Bhreena had been right—Jassyn had intended the first stage to be nothing more than invisible scouting, a slip through the shadows, leaving behind no whispers for the king to follow. But if Lykor’s planfreed their families, it could loosen the strain between their factions. And perhaps grant this alliance a sliver of goodwill before everything buckled beneath them.
Relief slid through Jassyn, but it dispersed fast. Vesryn burned like wildfire and Lykor bore down like a stormfront. Thrown together, they’d only be spark to powder.
At the end of the table, Kaedryn cleared her throat. Her attention lingered on Bhreena’s untouched plate before drifting to Fenn, who leaned across Serenna’s setting to refill Vesryn’s wine—his wink met only with the prince’s withering glower.
Kaedryn eased her empty plate aside. “We have more prisoners from the Maw’s waters than we know what to do with. Let alone the numbers you’ll bring in from the prisons.”
She spoke to no one in particular, but the weight of it pressed squarely against Jassyn. He’d overseen most of the healing, he knew how thin their resources had been stretched.
“Some who surrendered have already turned violent,” Kaedryn continued. “Even those we’ve tethered. Keeping so many inside Asharyn’s walls is a risk the guildmasters may not tolerate for much longer.”
Jassyn didn’t answer at once. When he closed his eyes, he still saw hands clawing above the waves, smelled scorched flesh and charred hulls. And he’d never forget the burst of red when Lykor’s shadows struck the boy he’d been healing.
“They were drowning,” Jassyn said quietly. “Burning. I saw no other choice.”
He withdrew his hand from Lykor’s leg and leaned forward, folding his fingers on the table as he met every gaze in turn. His eyes locked with Daeryn’s, a legacy neither of them had chosen, blood neither had asked for. Something feral stirred in Jassyn’s chest, bright enough to burn a path through the entire capital before he let this world chain another life the way it had claimed them both.
That fire was what drove him forward.
“I didn’t drag the king’s soldiers from the Maw because I trusted them,” Jassyn said at last. “I did it because we should give every soul a chance to stand for a different world.” He reached for a goblet of water, fingers tightening until the stem dug into his skin. “I won’t fight this war by becoming like the elves—stealing choice and calling it victory.”
Daeryn studied the hatchlings moving through the reeds. “The elven-blooded who cling to the capital’s ideals will never join us. Many believe their magic gives them the right to rule over humans who don’t carry a spark. But others will. Once they see the world we’re building.”
Kaedryn pursed her lips, crimson eyes glowing as they drifted over Bhreena again. “And those who smile and swear loyalty only to knife our wings the moment we look away? What then?”
“We kill them,” Lykor growled.
Every gaze cut toward him, and he scowled back.
“We’ve already given the king’s forces a chance.” His eyes flicked toward Jassyn, flaring in the dim light. “We don’t grant them any quarter if they threaten any of our own.” His voice dropped lower, iron ground to a killing edge. “If they betray us, I’ll meet them like any enemy.” He didn’t move or even blink, but shadows writhed around his shoulders in slow, restless waves. “A streak of rending across the throat.”
Silence followed, settling like ash in the lungs. Lykor had spoken the violence Jassyn feared he’d one day be forced to choose. But admitting that would erode the vow he’d just sworn to be different from the elves.
So he said nothing.
Behind them, a hatchling trilled, the startled screech ending in a splash, sparks skittering against the water.
“Like Kaedryn said, some might betray us,” Serenna murmured, watching the dragons scatter in the reeds. “That doesn’t make mercy a mistake. It makes it a choice we keep choosing.”
Her words lingered, but another truth pressed deeper. Lykor’s conviction came from a loyalty fierce enough to kill for, a devotion Jassyn could never command outright.
When he lifted his eyes, every face at the table had already turned to him, waiting for the next call. And he knew that no matter what he chose, someone would bleed for it.
CHAPTER 43
SERENNA
Serenna’s balcony doors hung ajar, the night breeze stirring the sheer curtains in rippling waves. A handful of illumination globes drifted overhead in lazy arcs, their pale glow circling like miniature moons. The air carried scents of the bathing pools she and Vesryn had visited after dinner—heated stones and mineral salts, the lavender oil lingering on her skin.
On the bed beside her, Vesryn propped himself up on one elbow, shirtless still, druid-woven trousers slung low on his hips. Starlight slid across the newly shorn side of his scalp, the sharp line of it drawing her eye before she could pretend she hadn’t noticed. It made him look wilder somehow, dangerously handsome in a way that heated her chest. Though she’d never admit it aloud unless she wanted to endure a week of his gloating.
“Did you see Jassyn’s neck?” Vesryn asked, smirking as he shoved aside a tangled heap of pillows to make room between them.
The memory of those fang marks had Serenna releasing a quiet laugh before she could stop it. “I…tried not to stare.”
