Solas, Caelum, Cerilla, and Riven walked in behind us like four shadows of power. Each of them radiated their own kind of danger.
Riven sauntered with a lazy arrogance, Cerilla seethed cold fury, Solas looked ready to tear out throats, and Caelum watched everyone like they were already dead.
The Mortals were already assembled, and Fae soldiers lined the walls like sentinels waiting to kill.
My father stood at the front with his arms crossed against his broad chest and an expression as hard as I remembered. The priest stood beside him, blond hair slicked back, handsome face disguising the brutality of a torturer. The moment his eyes flicked to me, my bodybetrayed me. Cold terror locked my muscles in place. My skin burned as if his hands were still crawling over me, as if I could still feel his blade sinking unforgivingly into the flesh of my back.
His presence crushed the air from my lungs, a bruise on the world that made it hard to breathe.
I wished I had stabbed his face, to make it as physically ugly as he was on the inside.
The Commander’s arm tightened around mine, the hatred radiating through the bond matching mine in its depths. The priest would regret surviving me after I let the Commander have him.
Instead of cowering, a slow smile traced my lips. Not the practiced mask my father liked, no. A vicious smile that promised pain.
Aldric stood behind him, looking like a dishevelled version of the polished brother I had known. His face relaxed when he saw me, as if he were able to take his first full breath in weeks.
Next to him was viscount Barden and the Iron Guards.
Dreya’s eyes stayed trained straight ahead, as though she was refusing to look at me. But the moment her eyes landed on Riven, her fists clenched at her side.
The throne room itself was vast and impossibly beautiful. Midnight stone had been polished to a mirror shine, and silver veins ran through the floor like frozen lightning. Above us, obsidian pillars spiralled upward, painted with stars and florals. Streams of sunlight poured through the high, arched windows and skylights. At the centre of it all stood the throne, a towering construct of black granite and carved shadow wood, rising like the spine of some ancient beast. Silver filigree wrapped its edges likeconstellations frozen mid-burst, and behind it, a star-shaped crest of polished obsidian fanned like a halo.
I went to take my place beside it. Unlike at Stonebriar, I would stand next to his throne with pride. The Commander placed a firm hand on my back, stopping me as he lowered his head towards my ear.“Take your seat, my love,” he whispered on the ghost of a breath.
The entire Mortal delegation stiffened as I sat on the throne.
The cold granite bit into my skin with a delightful chill.
The Commander leant casually against the massive armrest, crossing his corded forearms over his chest, shadows coiling around his boots like restless smoke, still sated from my blood.
He looked down at the Mortals as though deciding which one to kill first.
“Speak,” he growled, voice echoing through the chamber like a blade drawn from its sheath.
King Vaylor stepped forward, grey battle armour glinting beneath his red cloak, chin held high as if he wasn’t standing in front of the most powerful male in existence and a goddess.His eyes cut to me. Then to the Commander. Then back to me. For a moment, he was speechless.
“The alliance,” he finally said. “It must happen today.”
The Commander didn’t move, didn’t react.“You do not make demands here, little king. Why the rush?” he asked flatly.Vaylor lifted his hands in a practiced gesture of urgency. “Because monsters are tearing through the Mortal Kingdom. My people are dying. Entire villages wiped out in a night. We need the alliance formed immediately. Even our castle is no longer safe. We need your protection.”The Commander scoffed, a low, vicious sound.
“You need protection?” he echoed. “Mypeople are dying as well.”A hush fell.He pushed away from the armrest, stepping forward slightly.“In fact,” he continued, voice dripping poison, “the only chanceanyof us have for survival is weapons forged by your daughter’s magic. It is her choice if you get any out of this deal, perhaps you should beg her.”
Vaylor’s nostrils flared.Aldric shifted his weight, looking between us with a tight jaw, a silent conflict burning behind his eyes.
“This is no time for games, High Lord,” King Vaylor seethed, eyes as hard as steel.
The Commander’s shadows rose instantly, ready to strangle my father where he stood.
“Let him finish,” I murmured, laying a hand gently on the Commander’s forearm.
The shadows withdrew and Vaylor watched them wearily as he continued, voice dripping with grim authority. “If we do not unite,bothour Kingdoms will fall. The threat grows with every hour. I will not have my people slaughtered because of your temper.”
The Commander barked out a laugh, a dangerous, unhinged sound.
“Then get on your knees and beg the goddess for her protection, or I will put you there permanently.”
King Vaylor spluttered, his face reddening with rage but he didn’t move.
