“Not the king’s son?”
“That’s not possible?—”
Zander remained still, the only calm in a growing wave of disbelief.
Theron lifted his hands, mock humility gracing his features. “Obviously, this arrangement was not Zander’s fault. He is still my half-brother. In fact, his father is full fae and has worked for the crown since the Unification Treaty was signed.”
My breath caught.
Alahathrial.
Theron was playing the long game. Trying to discredit Zander without disowning him—undermining his claim to any throne, but keeping him close enough to use.
Kaelith growled.
Zander still hadn’t looked away from me. His expression didn’t waver. But his voice moved into my mind, quiet and raw.
It doesn’t matter what he says. I know who I am. And I know where I stand.
Kaelith’s twin tails shimmered with violet light before folding inward, compressing in a ripple of raw power. The dual scythes blurred into one sleek blade, and her form seemed to settle, less threatening, but no less lethal. Her body held still, but her eyes…
They locked on Theron like she was choosing which part of him to eat first.
Kaelith, no,I thought.
She didn’t answer. Her gaze narrowed.
Zander moved. Not fast, but deliberate, stepping between Theron and Kaelith. Hein followed, body lowering slightly, wings flared just enough to show that if it came to it, he’d drag his claws through half the court to protect Zander… or stop Kaelith from starting a war.
Theron’s hand lifted, graceful, controlled, always playing the ruler, even now. “Zander is still royalty,” he said smoothly, as if Kaelith’s very presence wasn’t holding the entire field hostage. “Still a son of the queen. But he is ineligible for the throne.”
A beat passed before Cade, as bold and loud as always, called out from the front of the squad. “Zander never wanted the throne.”
A murmur of agreement rolled through the gathered riders.
Theron’s jaw twitched, but he forced a nod. “Yes. Of course. His heritage is irrelevant… as Prince Dorian is the oldest Rayne. And when he fails to take his place, I have already made arrangements to ensure my transition to king will be as smooth as possible.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. Ithummed—taut and laced with magic, with tension, with the kind of stillness before a strike.
Kaelith’s nostrils flared.
Hein’s body shifted.
My hand moved toward my blade.
He thinks the crown belongs to him,Zander said in my mind, quiet and calm.
The question is why? How does he know Dorian won’t return?I replied.
But the look on Kaelith’s face said otherwise. Theron wasn’t just a threat to Zander anymore.
He was a threat to us all.
Theron’s voice rang out clear and proud from the podium, as if he hadn’t just tried to strip his brother of any claim to the throne.
“Zander Rayne,” he said, gesturing to him with a practiced sweep of his arm. “Few riders in our history have shown such affinity with their dragon. The strength of his bond with Hein is undeniable, one forged not just in blood, but in battle. And now, that bond is entwined with the Shiftling herself.”
The crowd shifted uneasily, eyes darting to Kaelith as her wings tightened and her glowing eyes didn’t waver from Theron’s back. I could feel her magic humming in my chest, still tightly coiled, still on the edge.
