I managed a snicker, blood slicking my teeth. “And you’ll still be lesser than I.”
That landed.
A crack sparked fire up my cheek and across my jaw when his boot dug deeper. My vision blurred at the edges, shouts ringing distant as the monster inside me shrieked for release.
Every nerve screamed to let it loose. But I wouldn’t survive being seen. Not yet.
Rage poured off Callum in searing waves when the guard above Gemma pulled his sword on her. In one swift motion, he turned, bound hands snaking around a guard’s throat. The chains bit into flesh as he twisted, tightening, choking the guard until his sword clattered to the floor.
And still, none of the others moved. Not one lifted a hand.
With a weak flare in his eyes, Callum drove his stare into the guard near our mother. “Drop the weapon, Alec.”
Alec? Heknewhim, on a first name basis, and still, that was how he was treating Gemma?
The guard only chuckled, taking in the room before shifting one step away from her, leaving his sword unsheathed.
Still locked in a grapple, the guard Callum held clawed at the iron links cutting deeper with every breath he couldn’t take.
His face darkened, his knees bowed.
Callum held, muttering low into his ear as life left his body.
Callum, sworn protector of the voiceless, was strangling a man in his guard, in the throne room where he’d once pledged his oath.
This wasverybad. It couldn’t be about last night.
Maybe they had found out what Callum did with Rook? But even Gemma wasn’t a part of that.
“Enough.”
The word clipped through the guard’s choking gurgle, moving through the chamber as doors banged open, the King of Luamis striding into the room.
Callum’s grip slackened and the chains slipped loose as the guard collapsed, gasping. Lifting two fingers, he crouched, placing them against his throat. “He’s fine.”
The crown tilted on Obrann’s head as he sauntered through the parting bodies, not even bothering to glance down.
Guards bowed, suitors swept aside.
“How gracious of you, commander.” Obrann’s voice carried, stretched too thin, as he stopped before his throne.
And there, sitting beside it, was Elva.
She was still, a butterfly trapped in cocooned silence as Obrann bowed, his lips grazing the back of her hand like relief.
I gagged.
Elva didn’t stir. Her chin stayed lowered, her stare buried somewhere beyond us, hidden beneath that beaded veil.
“My princess,” he whispered, soft enough to rot. “You must watch your friends. Pray for them, yes?”
She gave nothing back. Her body was here, her arms inked with new bruises, deep violet staining pale skin. But Elva, she was lost.
Callum saw her then too. The sound that tore out of him was not a word; it was only a feral snarl, raw and animal as he lunged, his chains rattling.
And Obrann, he sawit all. And he smiled.
Callum’s eyes blazed, fire roaring but trapped, barely contained. “What have you done to her?”
