We crash into the first line of guards like a battering ram. My claws slice through ornate armor, wolf howling satisfaction beneath my skin as we drive deeper into the palace grounds, following the pull toward Lyanna.
I push forward through a flood of fae guards, their crystalline armor scattering prismatic light across the corridor walls. My claws carve through the metal like butter, their screams cutting off as I drive past them.
“Second wave incoming—thirty yards northeast,” Ben’s voice cuts through the enchanted comm at my ear. “Timing shows coordinated response. They were waiting.”
I duck as Rhonan unleashes a blast of dragon fire above my head, the heat searing my scalp as it clears the magical barrier ahead. The smell of burning enchantments fills my nostrils—acrid and electric.
“Vrek!“ Rhonan curses as the corridor behind us fills with more guards. “They’re herding us.”
“Keep moving,” I growl, following the unrelenting tug in my chest. It throbs like an open wound, each pulse guiding meforward. Every corridor we cross brings her closer, her presence growing stronger in my blood.
Derek signals from the junction ahead, motioning toward a branching corridor on the right. “Guard rotation pattern shows a five-second gap. Three ... two ... now!”
We sprint through the opening, Rafe’s hands extended as he dismantles the ward system with brutal efficiency, his fingers tearing through the magical barrier like it’s made of tissue. The walls around us shimmer with faint alarm patterns, pulsing in rhythm with the castle’s defensive magic.
“Time check,” Ben snaps through the comm.
“Eleven minutes until ceremony starts,” Derek responds, checking the enchanted timepiece strapped to his wrist. “Throne room ahead—east wing, second level.”
I push past Rafe, driven by the increasingly urgent pull. Sunlight streams through tall crystal windows, casting rainbow patterns across the marble floor. Throne room close. So close.
Evren skids to a stop beside me. “Main entrance heavily warded, but there’s a service corridor. Dragon fire should punch through.”
“Do it,” I command, not slowing down.
We round the corner, and I skid to a halt. The corridor ahead is blocked by the heaviest guard concentration yet—at least twenty armored fae warriors with drawn weapons forming a wall of silver and steel before massive crystalline doors.
Through the corridor windows, golden sunlight angles through the ceremony hall. Ancient, ethereal music filters through the crystalline throne room doors, the haunting melody signaling the start of binding rituals. My skin crawls with the knowledge of what’s happening inside.
I check my tactical belt, counting essentials with practiced fingers—comms device, evidence packet containing tribunal corruption documentation, a blade at my hip. The bond in mychest pulls tighter than ever, a physical tether leading straight through those ornate doors.
The guards ahead form a perfect wall of silver and steel, their ceremonial armor gleaming with enchantment. Twenty at least, far more than intelligence predicted.
Faelan knew I’d come. The trap we suspected, sprung exactly as planned—and we walked into it anyway. Because there was no other choice.
Ben moves silently beside me, his face set in grim determination as he taps his ear device. “Evidence ready?” he whispers. “Evren’s diversion holding?”
I nod, feeling the weight of the data crystal in my pocket. Everything we’ve gathered on Faelan’s manipulation, tribunal corruption, Caelynn’s suspicious death—all contained in one small package that could change everything.
The enchanted comm crackles. “Eastern wing fully engaged,” Evren’s voice reports, the excitement in his tone unmistakable even through the static. “You have a window.”
Rhonan mutters “Vrek” under his breath, checking his own weapons. “Remember—legal interruption, not assault. Tribunal law allows a challenge before binding completes.” He catches my eye. “And Callum—this is Lachlan’s family. Minimal damage. These aren’t our enemies.”
I nod grudgingly. Every instinct screams at me to tear through those doors and rip Lyanna free. But Rhonan’s right—we came with evidence, not just fury. If we can prove Faelan’s manipulation before the tribunal, we win more than just her freedom. And I won’t repay Lachlan’s loyalty by burning down his ancestral home.
Derek and Rafe take flanking positions, their movements perfectly synchronized as they prepare for the breach. Rafe’s eyes narrow, assessing the guard formation with calculating precision.
The connection in my chest suddenly flares white-hot, a jolt of awareness so powerful it nearly doubles me over. Lyanna knows we’re here. I feel her recognition pulse through me.
The ceremonial music shifts to a higher pitch. “First binding incantation starting,” Rhonan translates, tension vibrating through his words.
The twenty guards haven’t moved—they’re holding position, weapons ready, waiting for us to make the first move. Smart. They know we can’t wait them out.
“On three,” Ben says, his voice steady as he readies himself. “One.”
My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the pull of the bond.
“Two.”
