“Here,” I said. “Seems like you need this more than I do.” I handed him the wine glass I hadn’t even gotten to sip.
He thanked me, accepted it, lifted it in a small “cheers,” and pressed the gold cup to his lips.
Then a female voice shrieked like broken glass—startling us and freezing us in place.
“NOOOOOO!”
Prisca erupted from nowhere and lunged for the goblet. Guests gasped in shock and confusion. The music stopped. Couples halted mid-step. All eyes snapped to Prisca and her son.
Suddenly, Prisca was frozen mid-stride, one hand outstretched— Titus behind her, clearly using his paralyzing magic.
“Why can’t he drink it, Prisca?” Titus snarled, teeth bared.
Being all too familiar with this kind of magic, I knew that though she couldn’t move, she could speak. She was choosing not to. Nobody dared move or breathe as Titus stalked toward his nephew.
Titus snatched the glass from Rexius, swirled it, smelled it, and dipped a finger into the liquid. His fingertip began to sizzle with an acidic burn.
“Poison?!” he shouted—both questioning and accusing with a single word.
The goblet dropped to the ground, metal clanking against stone until it settled. The liquid corroded the floor, making the rock smoke and melt.
Her eyes were never on me. They were on Rexius. The wine had been meant for me. And when I unknowingly passed it to her son, I saw it happen. The careful cruelty dissolved into raw maternal panic. She would sacrifice me without hesitation, but not him. Not her son.
Titus erupted into full-body flame, his fire-resistant clothing charring away slowly, stitch by stitch. The siblings glared at each other.
The entire realm seemed to hold its breath as guests waited endless seconds for Titus to unleash his fury.
But then he closed his eyes.
A deep, guttural growl rattled the dishes and glasses on the table like a small earthquake. A beast rose from the dark depths to the balcony’s edge.
Draxxinar.
He flapped his massive wings, sending tablecloths flying and snuffing every candle and lantern in an instant. His yellow, slitted eyes blinked vertically, then shifted until they locked on Titus. Hot steam poured from his nostrils through the crowd, prompting screams and frantic scrambling. Everyone backed away from the nightmare of a beast—leaving only me, Rexius, and Prisca caught in Titus’s demonic wake.
The High Lord commanded his dragon in words I’d never heard before, but I knew exactly what he ordered.
It was what he’d threatened to do several times.
To my surprise, Prisca showed no fear of the beast or her brother.
“Fuck you, Titus,” she said. Her body was immobile, her voice calm, her face wicked.
Draxxinar opened his toothy mouth—each tooth the size of a canoe—and snatched her in one bite. Aurelius tried to intervene, but it was too late. The beast tossed her into the air like a weightless doll before savagely crushing her body in his jaws.
I heard bones snap. But she didn’t scream.
Guests shrieked in horror. One noble fainted. Two captains rushed to him, checking his vitals. Draxxinar retreated to the depths from which he came.
I turned to Rexius and watched him drop to his knees and wretch into his hands.
Absolute chaos erupted on the balcony—and yet Titus stood there as if frozen in time. His inferno slowly snuffed out until only the smoldering remains of his burned clothing lingered.
It was like he was in a trance, staring into black nothingness while guests ran and screamed behind him.
I crouched beside Rexius, trying to comfort him, but he continued vomiting violently. I scanned the chaos for Calpurnia. I needed to know she was safe—unharmed—but Cercies already had his massive body in front of her, blocking any threat. She rose from behind a chair, and I watched him scoop her up and carry her inside.
Relief flooded me.
