Chancellor Veylan’s tone stayed measured. “You will submit reports on Thorne’s progress and psychological condition. If the bond deepens further, we reserve the right to intervene.”
Thorne’s stomach twisted. Intervene. Another word for leash. He straightened. “I can already communicate with Vornokh,” he said, voice low but steady. “He feels everything you say. Including your fear.”
Silence fell on the room. Thick and absolute. General Solas’s lips pressed together, but she did not look away.
Commander Dareth’s glare cut to his nephew. “Thorne, you’re dismissed.”
Thorne inclined his head once and turned toward the doors. He didn’t bow. The metal handles of the doors were cold against his palms. As he pushed them open, he felt every eye follow him, heavy as chains.
The corridor outside was dark and empty. Thorne drew in the night air. It was cold, clean, and felt free. His hands still shook faintly, the ghost of heat flickering across his knuckles.
Vornokh stirred within Thorne. The dragon’s voice was low and rumbled with satisfaction as he spoke.“They fear you, rider. They should. I will not answer to a human council.”
Thorne paused at the top of the steps leading into the courtyard. The wind tugged at his cloak, carrying the scent of ashand snow. Maybe Vornokh was right. Perhaps fear was freedom. Or it could be another chain. Thorne looked up at the sky, where the last traces of sunset smoldered behind the mountains. His breath curled in the cold, mingling with the smoke that seemed to follow him now.
“They want a weapon,” Thorne murmured, the words more oath than thought. “Fine. I’ll decide when and where I strike.”
The wind carried the promise away, but the darkness kept it.
Chapter
Five
The palace throne room was empty at this hour. Kaen had just returned from visiting the Asgar Training Academy. Moonlight spilled through the broken lattice of the high windows, carving pale lines across the obsidian floor. The banners hung still. The air itself seemed to wait.
Kaen stood at the center of the vast chamber, alone except for the echo of his own breathing. His reflection rippled faintly in the polished marble, a young man carved from charm and precision, wrapped in gold and crimson. Handsome. Controlled and destined for the crown.
And yet, he feltonlythe hollow ache that came when he looked upon his father’s seat and imagined never beingenoughto claim it. A faint wind stirred behind him. It carried a voice. Low. Cold. Familiar with the way nightmares are.
“Still chasing shadows, little prince?”
Kaen turned sharply. “Who’s there?”
The voice chuckled, soft as the sound of silk tearing. “Someone who knows what it is to be unseen.”
The torches guttered. Shadows lengthened along the marble, pulling toward the dais like oil. From the dark between two pillars, a figure emerged. He couldn’t really see who it was due to the large cloak that shadowed the figure in front of him.
Kaen’s hand went instinctively to the dagger at his side, though something in him whispered that it wouldn’t matter.
“You’re trespassing in the royal palace,” Kaen said evenly. “Say your name.”
The figure inclined its head. “Names are masks. But if it pleases you, call me Lyssara.I speak for the ones who move beneath the Rift.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed. She moved closer to him. She was beautiful. “Are you some kind of sorcerer?”
“More of a messenger.” The voice was smooth as water, and the air around it pulsed faintly with illusion magic. “Your father fears the dark. He teaches his sons to hide from it. But you—” Lyssara tilted her head. “You are not afraid, are you?”
Kaen didn’t answer. His pulse betrayed him.
The figure’s shape shimmered, momentarily splitting into three shadowed silhouettes before merging again. “Something is sleeping beneath this realm. Something that could make you king in more than name.”
“I am already heir to the throne,” Kaen said, jaw tightening. “I don’t need help from shadows.”
“No?” The voice slithered closer. “Your father favors another, your brother, the soldier, the golden flame. He calls him the protector of the realm. He is a warrior. Strong and fierce. Commander Dareth’s most skilled weapon and the real future king.”
Kaen’s expression flickered, just once.
Lyssara smiled, though her mouth was only a suggestion. “You crave what they deny you. Power. The kind that answers to no crown.”
