Theron’s shoulders went rigid.
I stepped closer, watching the scene unfold through the window, riders in motion, voices raised in argument, squads shifting into uncertain formations. Crownwatch was splitting. I recognized two of their lieutenants turning their backs on the crest of the Third Brother.
“Does Dorian have the percentage he needs for this to be over?” I asked, quiet but cutting.
Theron turned, and the glare he leveled at me was pure venom. “No.This is not over.”
And with that, he stormed from the room, boots pounding down the corridor like thunder in retreat.
I exhaled, adrenaline still coiled tight beneath my skin. My fingers brushed Zander’s shoulder. “The king is asleep again. We should go,” I said. “I have a feeling things are about to getbaddown there.”
Zander nodded once, jaw tight, and we left the king’s chamber behind, descending the spiraled stone stairwell together, heading straight for the Ascension Grounds—where power was about to clash, and loyalty was on the verge of fracture.
The castle doors opened with a groan behind us, spilling Zander and me into the courtyard just as the first true light of morning broke through the cloud-choked sky.
And there he was.
Theron stood tall at the new podium on the Ascension Grounds, hands raised like a priest before a congregation. He wore his finest—storm-gray military robes, his family’s crest stitched into his chest like a brand. Behind him, banners flapped in the wind, the sigil of his claim bright and unwavering. But there was unease in the crowd.
“I am aware of the communication from your dragons,” he said loudly, voice magnified through the courtyard. “But my father has been poisoned. He is very ill, and the culprit appears to be inside this castle.I am already looking into it.”
Murmurs swept through the gathered riders and nobles. A few exchanged glances, others shifted uncomfortably. The tension hung like steel wire between squads.
Theron’s gaze slid to Zander, hard and unblinking, and his meaning was clear.
You brought chaos to my house.
Then another figure exited the castle doors behind us, her perfume reaching me before her voice ever could.
Inderia.
She moved like liquid moonlight, her silken dress the color of crushed violets and trailing silver thread. Not a strand of hair out of place. Not a step wasted. She moved directly to Theron’s side without hesitation—without shame.
And the moment she arrived, the attention of half the yard shifted. Several of the younger riders, especially those from court, watched her with hungry, half-lidded stares. Coveting something they didn’t understand.
Too bad,I thought bitterly, watching the way she placed a delicate hand on Theron’s forearm,they didn’t realize the venom curled beneath that silk.
She looked at me then—no mask, no pretense.
Open hostility.
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Theron’s voice rose again, more desperate this time. “This is not the time to fracture. We must stand united under the crown, under the banner my father entrusted to me before he fell ill. My brother cannot lead you as he is never here.”
A few loyalists near the front nodded, murmuring their agreement. But others were less convinced. Some shifted uncomfortably, their dragons pacing or watching from nearby cliffs, low growls in their throats. The mark of Hein’s message lingered in the air like smoke—unshakable.
Theron pressed on. “I understand your doubt. But loyalty is not given—it is proven.Stay with me, and I will protect what matters. I will find the traitor, and I will heal this kingdom.”
He raised his hand again, this time toward the crowd, gesturing to those still holding his colors.
“Stand with me, and we will not be forgotten.”
But even as he spoke, more riders peeled away from his half of the field—quietly, subtly, but undeniably shifting their allegiance.
And Zander?
Zander watched it all in silence, his arms crossed, jaw clenched—not with fear, but calculation.
