The golden prince of Calanthe stood like a statue in the morning sun, cloak lifting in the sea breeze, one hand resting on the pommel of his curved blade. Everything about him was composed. Regal. Unshaken.
Kael hated that it still got under his skin.
He didn’t want to trust him. Not with Maris. Not with his back. Not with a weapon meant to kill a god. But trust was no longer a luxury. And Maris had made her choice clear in that regard, she trusted both of them.
Kael took a slow breath and approached.
Alarik didn’t flinch as Kael stopped before him. His violet-blue eyes flicked once to Kael’s, annoyance spreading across his face. At their backs, horses were pawing, soldiers adjusting saddles, the travel party making final preparations.
“We need to speak,” Kael said.
Alarik arched a brow. “Now?”
Kael unsheathed a dagger from his belt and flipped it in his palm. “Now.”
Understanding flickered in Alarik’s gaze.
They stepped aside, toward the quiet shadow of an archway.
No guards. No audience. No Maris.
Kael held the dagger between them. “No matter what happens out there, if one of us falls, the other brings her home. We need to make an oat of protection.”
Alarik’s jaw clenched. “You think I’d leave her behind?”
“I think you love her,” Kael said. “But you’ve spent centuries loving beautiful things only for them to be destroyed.”
Alarik didn’t blink. “And you’ve spent centuries fearing power you don’t control. She scared you because you couldn’t cage her.”
Kael didn’t deny it, but choose to ignore the jab.
He sliced the blade across his palm.
Blood welled dark and crimson.
Alarik took the dagger in silence. Dragged the tip through his own skin.
Then they pressed their palms together.
The oath sealed hot and sharp between them,ancient and binding. A promise not to each other. But to her.
“To our queen,” Kael said, voice low.
Alarik’s eyes darkened. “To the one who ends gods.”
Their hands dropped. The blood dried fast in the salt air. And without another word, they turned back to the waiting group.
The sun had just cleared the highest cliffs when they mounted their horses and rode the path toward the borderlands.
-Maris-
She felt the land change beneath them.
The deeper they pressed into the borderlands wilds, the more wrong the world became.
It started an unnatural hush that swallowed birdsong, that made the horses’ hooves sound too loud. Then the light dimmed, like the clouds above had thickened with something more than mist. The trees grew strange. Twisted. Silver bark splitting down the center. Leaves that whispered even when there was no wind.
Maris rode at the front beside Kael and Alarik, her spine straight despite the unease gathering in her chest. Zairon and Serenya flanked behind them, silent and alert. Next Corin and Riven, eyes scanning every shadow. Bringing up the rear, a small host of warriors rode. A mix from all four kingdoms.
