Neither of us is.
I held out the map.
Zander took it from my outstretched hand, his fingers brushing mine. I could still feel the lingering heat of Seraveth’s magic on the parchment, like it carried the whisper of her intentions.
“She said I’d come willingly,” I muttered. “But if I don’t, she’ll come for me in a week.”
Zander’s brow furrowed as he scanned the markings. “This shows where the wards are weakest.” He turned the map, angling it toward the light filtering through the trees. “It’s on the opposite side of the isle from where we originally thought the breach would be.”
“I know,” I said. “But she made it clear they’re expecting me.”
Remy stepped closer, his silver gaze flicking from the map to Zander. “Then we have to go. If we delay any longer, your brother will lose the continent.”
Zander didn’t take the bait. Not at first. But his jaw tightened, and I felt the tension roll off him in waves.
“Which brother is that, Saulter?” he asked evenly, though there was venom under the surface. “You’ll have to be more specific. Which royal do you serve?”
Remy’s smile was humorless. “Take your pick. The one with a dragon in chains? Or the one with a crown and a kingdom burning around him?”
I stepped between them, my voice icy. “Enough. We need to save the king. Only one brother actually wants to rule, and his loyalties are questionable at best.”
All around us, the others had gone quiet. Ferrula’s gaze was narrowed, Jax’s fingers twitching near the hilt of his blade. Even Tae had stopped mid-step, lips parted as if caught mid-joke.
The wind shifted.
Kaelith’s wings flexed above the trees.
The air between Zander and Remy could’ve been cut with a blade.
But no one moved.
No one spoke.
Because we all knew—we were going to that isle. Not just for the king. Not just for the continent.
We were going to find out what the Blood King wanted with me. Why he thought he needed me.
And if the crown was still worth saving.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
“What do we do now?” I asked, the weight of the map like lead in my hand. The lines carved into the parchment pulsed, almost like veins—alive with something I didn’t quite understand.
Zander stepped closer, his voice quiet but distinct. “Now? We plan the trip to the Blood Isle. With that map, we know where the wards are weakest.”
“The map is just lines and sigils,” I said, turning it over. “How do we know where to go once we’re inside?”
“The key, and the maps in the castle vault,” Zander said, tapping a finger near the bottom of the parchment. “That’s what we need.”
“What key?” I asked, staring at the faded ink where he’d pointed. There was a shimmer in the corner—runes I hadn’t noticed before, curved and etched in a language older than our kingdom.
Zander’s jaw flexed. “The key isn’t an object. It’s a person. This map doesn’t just show you where to enter—it’s written in a dialect of ancient fae. More than that, it’s enchanted to respond only to a specific type of magic.”
I frowned. “What kind of magic?”
Zander turned his head, locking eyes with Remy. “Do you think Remand was my father’s favorite because of his winning personality?”
I blinked, confused. Then it hit me.
