I’d witnessed several trials over the centuries, and each time, the house who had been disrespected always won, with the insulter humbled or burned for their deception or ill intent. The light never lied—it was Her will, wielding on this earth. I’donly seen it kill once, and that was because the aggressor refused to yield.
I’d never been sure if it was truly the Goddess delivering divine punishment, or if it was Iaoth and Stadiel’s direct manipulation.
Sylaira paused when we landed in the garden at the base of the tree. I captured her arms and pulled her into me again.
“I’m sorry,” were her first broken words to me.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I told her. I pressed a kiss to the top of her hair, inhaling her ghostflower scent.
She looked up at me, silvery hair spilling over her lithe shoulders. “I do. When you should have been preparing, you were taking care of me instead. I couldn’t stay strong for you for a single day.”
I hooked my finger under her chin and lifted it so she was forced to look deep into my eyes. Into my soul. “You need not worry about me, little fugitive. Everything will work out.”
Even as I spoke the words, they tasted like ash. She still didn’t know the cage we’d both been placed in. And this night, every eye would be trained on me—on us.
We’d be scrutinized. Judged. Measured. Which was why I’d had such a fine dress made for her. She’d never don armor, and this was the best I could give her in a court of nobles who’d love to pick their teeth with her bones.
I wanted nothing more than to lock her in my room during the whole ordeal. But I couldn’t. She was the strike that lit this fire between House Räviel and House Elyriane. She was also the flood that would drown us all.
Her hands flattened over my chest. Nails scraped against the scar over my heart.
DUTY ABOVE ALL
Protecting Sylaira was my Goddess-given task. And I’d do whatever it took to ensure she was safe at the end of this day.
“You say that like you’re not going to lose.” Long lashes brushed against her cheekbones as she challenged me.
I memorized every piece of her. The slope of her ears. The studs pierced into them. The shade of her lips. The curve of her smile.
A soul-deep ache settled in me as I drank her in.
Another gong sounded, and I forced myself to tuck her under my arm and steer her toward the central tree of the palace.
Already, Angels streamed through the halls and up the spiral stairs that led to the highest floor, where the Koron and Korona’s thrones sat, waiting for their subjects to kneel before them.
Sylaira and I passed them all, seeking out the monarchs’ private staircase.
At the base, Stadiel and Iaoth waited.
Cold snapped over me like a shard of winter glass at the sight of Iaoth’s sinister smile. Dressed in a gown of pure white silk, silver-stained leather strapped strategically around her frame, with a massive diamond diadem seated atop her brow, she looked ready for a battle she would not face. Stadiel, too, dressed similarly, his ivory armor befitting the Zahal of the army gleaming under the lanterns.
“Vaeron, you’re late, as usual,” Stadiel sneered. “It is rude to keep your rulers waiting.”
I gritted my teeth, hand tightening on Sylaira’s waist. “I’m here aren’t I?”
My sister’s attention fell to the ring on my mate’s hand. One sharp brow rose. “I see. Well, we’ll be taking Sylaira now.”
“What? No,” she protested immediately, backstepping. I edged between her and the Koron, whose magic crackled at his fingertips.
“She’ll be finewith Maelsar,” I said coolly.
“Oh come on, brother, you really didn’t think we’d allow her out of our control?” Iaoth snapped, crossing her arms and popping out a hip. “We have to ensure your compliance since you continue to shirk yourduty.”
“I know what is expected of me,” I replied, trying to keep my voice level when my heart thundered against my ribs like it would break free and strangle my sister itself.
“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you do with how you insist on embarrassing yourself at every turn in front of the court,” Stadiel snarled. “Now hand over your mate or I will rip her from your arms.”
A helpless, sick feeling clawed through my stomach. Even if my magic wasn’t down to a whisper thanks to Iaoth’s constant draining of me and how I had intervened on Sylaira’s behalf, I couldn’t Command him.
