“No,” Zander said, his eyes narrowing. “There’s more to this. What have you done, Theron? Have you actually conspired against your own family? Brought this kingdom to its knees, just because you weren’t chosen? Just because no dragon wanted you?”
The flicker of something in Theron’s expression, rage, shame, was all the confirmation I needed.
I stepped closer. “That’s it, isn’t it? You couldn’t bear to be ordinary in a family of the extraordinary.”
His fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t know what it’s like to be overlooked. To be cast aside for a brother with dragon fire in his blood, and another who isn’t even a true heir.”
“You’re right,” Zander said, voice like thunder, “I don’t. But I would never trade my family for a throne built on betrayal.”
Theron didn’t answer. He just turned and walked away, slower this time. But not before I saw the tremble in his hands.
“How do we stop Theron if he’s undermining the crown?” I asked as Kaelith’s warning still rang like an echo in my thoughts. “He has so many supporters, Zander. The guilds are fractured. Iron Fang’s already on Theron’s side. And if Cade and Perin are proof of anything, it’s that loyalty can be bought.”
Zander sank into the chair beside the hearth, running a hand through his hair. “If we accuse him without proof, it will tear Warriath apart. But if we do nothing, he’ll bleed this kingdom from the inside out.”
I stepped closer and rested my palm on his chest, just above the steady thrum of his heart. “Then we find proof.”
His hand covered mine. “We will.”
We returned to his bedroom, the fire still flickering low in the hearth, casting gold across the stone walls. Zander unbuckled his belt, and I began unlacing my tunic when the sudden sound of a horn split the stillness.
It blared once. Then twice.
We froze.
Zander grabbed his sword and stalked toward the door, flinging it open. The corridor beyond was chaos—guards running, voices shouting over one another.
He stepped into the hallway, catching a guard by the arm. “What’s going on?”
The soldier’s eyes were wide. “The prince regent. He’s gone. We can’t find him anywhere.”
“Are you sure?”
The guard nodded. “Major Kaler asked us to deliver a message but we couldn’t find him. We searched his room, the court, and the dining hall. We even asked Lady Inderia, but she has no idea where he went.”
Zander’s jaw locked, his eyes narrowing.
Theron had vanished.
Chapter
Thirty-Five
We scoured the castle, every corridor, every passage, even the old tunnels beneath the eastern wing that had been locked since the Blood Fae incursion. But Theron was gone.
Without a trace.
After an hour, the mood among the commanders shifted. Unease crept into the lines of their faces as they gathered near the high stairwell. The majors stood in a loose half-circle, their eyes all drawn to Zander. No one said it aloud—but I felt it. The shift. The reality of a crown pressing down.
If Theron didn’t return… Zander would be king.
But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t waver. Zander stood tall, his face a mask of cool determination as he addressed the officers.
“We need to inform the riders,” he said quietly.
I nodded, falling into step beside him as we made our way toward the Ascension Grounds. The sun had dipped low, casting the courtyard in gold and shadow, but the banners of the squads snapped crisply in the wind. The riders stood in their ranks, gearhalf-buckled, some still clutching pieces of bread or tankards of water from interrupted meals.
Major Ledor stepped aside as Zander took his place before them.
