Ronyn.
Jax.
Morrathys.
Lesara.
Seren.
They’re all here.
“Caeloria is already here. They haven’t breached the outer walls yet. But they will within the hour,” Teddy snarls, his eyes darting, and his ears twitching in the way he does when his Aetherstride magic is activated.
Kael curses under his breath.
“Then we still have time,” he says, voice sharp and calculating.Kingly. “Teddy, Seren, Morrathys; find Maldrak. Do not let his hands touch your skin—he’s a powerful Runewright, and he will stop at nothing.”
They all nod at their orders, unsheathing their weapons.
“Jax, Ronyn, Lesara; there’s an underground chamber used for prayer that lives below the throne room. Get to it. Cull anyone who stands in your way. This is where the binding was performed, and we need it clear and ready to use.”
Jax and Ronyn nod, brows furrowed with the promise of vengeance. My mother only stares at me, forlorn and heartbroken, but my heart can’t access empathy. Not now. Not after so much of my own heartbreak.
“What about you two?” Teddy asks, voice a cutting command.
“I want the fucking Arcanist,” Kael growls, vengeance personified.
“Where do we start?” I ask, checking the weapons at my belt and thighs.
“The Arcanist’s chambers are always connected to the king’s chambers,” Kael says. “We start there.”
“Execute your orders. We meet in the prayer chamber,” Teddy finalizes, his jaw clenching, his grip tightening around the haft of his axe.
We’ve fought before. But nothing this final. Nothing that fundamentally changes the realms.
Kael’s jaw is a stone thing in the dim light; the lines of his face cut the gloom like a blade. He moves with that terrible efficiency of a man who’s had to plan violence a thousand times—the same hands that cradle, the same hands that can break. My chest tightens at the twin knowledge of both.
“I don’t care who comes at you,” he breathes, muscles coiling, “you fucking end them.”
Seren swallows audibly, her nerves palpable. “What of the maids? The cooks?”
“Consider them a casualty of war,” he answers without hesitation. The way he doesn’t hesitate. The way he does what must be done, no matter the cost; it’s terrifying. And undeniably magnetic.
“In war, Seri, it’susor them,” Teddy explains, his voice like rough gravel.
She nods apprehensively. She understands, I know she does. But she doesn’t like it. Her heart is too pure.
Elyssara.
My name comes through the tether like a small, hot mercy. Kael—always Kael—always noticing. I want to answer, to tell him to slow, to tell him that my bones are made of glass here, that Kryntar remembers me and wants me knelt. But the smell of old blood has already dug nails into my stomach. There’s too much to do to be tender.
I’ll lead you until your vengeance does.His words strike me in the chest, because he knows the fury that lives in every scar,the vengeance that waits in every sinew and tissue. And he can see the way terror beats it all into submission.
“Move out!” he commands, leading us up the cracked and filthy steps of the dungeons.
Teddy and Ronyn follow him without question.Their king.
“Brothers—we take the guards,” Kael snarls, quiet and low.
