I hated to admit it, but he sounded…genuine. Angry. Raw.
And then she stepped into the light.
Inderia.
Her silken gown fluttered like blood-soaked snow as she glided across the balcony. Her expression was carved from mourning; lips parted in some soft lamentation. She reached Theron without hesitation and slipped her hand around his arm with a gentle possessiveness that turned my stomach.
She tilted her face up to his, the perfect image of a grieving companion offering strength.
Calculated. Every motion was deliberate. She was playing the grieving friend. While I was unsure about Theron’s grief. I was sure of hers. She didn’t care about anyone but herself and would use this to her advantage.
And Theron didn’t move away.
He let her touch him. Let her stay.
Maybe he is grieving, I thought bitterly.
Every guild across the Ascension Grounds had stilled. Heads tilted up, breath held. No one spoke. Not Warborn. Not Crownwatch. Even Iron Fang, usually the loudest in their disdain, stood frozen in the shadow of Theron’s declaration. The chaos had fractured and fallen silent beneath his grief, or the performance of it.
His gaze swept over us all, but it landed, pointed and sharp, on Zander.
“My siblings have forsaken this kingdom,” Theron thundered. His voice still echoed unnaturally through the grounds, amplified by whatever spell Major Kaler continued to hold. “Dorian is away, as always. Unreachable in our time of need. And Zander—” his jaw tightened, “—prioritized the life of a commoner over that of my bride.”
A ripple moved through the crowd.
“He is hereby stripped of the title of Guild Commander,” Theron continued. “That honor will fall to Major Kaler, who has proven his loyalty and competence.”
My heart lurched. He’s serious.
“It was my error to believe my brothers would ever place the safety of this castle above their own selfish desires. And now, Lady Belana has paid the price for that misjudgment.”
The last words fell like the swing of a guillotine.
I turned to Zander, my voice barely above a breath. “He’s blamingyou?”
Zander’s lips twisted in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “No. He never wanted me as Guild Commander. That was just a play to control Hein and Kaelith. He should’ve known dragons don’t give a damn about titles.”
My throat tightened. “He really did care about Lady Belana.”
Zander shrugged, dark eyes flat. “He cared that she was considered the most beautiful woman on the continent. He didn’t seem to mind that she had the personality of a viper.”
My gaze drifted to Inderia’s pale hand still looped through Theron’s arm, and a chill threaded down my spine. One viper gone. Another ready to strike.
And Theron? He stared down at his court like a man who’d already chosen which parts of it to burn.
The tension hadn’t faded, it only coiled tighter, wrapping around the spines of every rider, every dragon, every guild member who still stood rooted to the Ascension Grounds. Theron looked ready to continue, voice still heavy with condemnation, when the side doors to the balcony burst open and a breathless court courier stumbled through.
He whispered something too low for us to hear, clutching a sealed parchment.
Theron snatched it with a jerk of his wrist, broke the seal, and scanned it. His expression didn’t change, but the air did. It grew heavier, sharper.
He turned back to the crowd like a man possessed. “I have received confirmation,” he said, voice once again booming across the grounds, “that theOrderis responsible for Lady Belana’s death.”
A collective gasp. Then a hundred heads turned to look atme.
But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t blink.
Cyranif you did this… you’re on your own.
