Page 159 of A Reign of Chromes & Shadows

A violent crack of thunder tore through the sky, shaking the car. Rain blinked, dragged abruptly back into the present as the driver slowed, turning into the palace grounds. The vehicle rolled to a stop before the towering gates.

The guards approached cautiously, their silhouettes blurred by the downpour. They peered into the car, confirming the passenger’s identity. Rain rolled his eyes, impatience prickling beneath his skin. His anxiety spiked now that home was in sight.

Fuck it.

“I’m good here. Thank you,” Rain called, already pushing the door open.

The driver barely had time to protest.

Rain stepped out into the storm, and the rain swallowed him whole.

Water drenched him instantly, soaking through his clothes, plastering his hair to his forehead. He could have created an energy bubble to keep himself dry, but he didn’t. The cold sting of the downpour grounded him, anchoring him in his body when everything inside felt like it was floating away.

The guards scrambled to open the gates the moment they saw him, but they kept their distance, moving with the frantic precision of men who wanted to avoid provoking him. Rain didn’t spare them a glance.

Head high, he strode down the long driveway, sheets of water crashing over him, soaking him to the bone. His boots splashed through puddles, each step echoing through the storm.

The palace doors opened as he ascended the steps, but the rain blurred his vision so thoroughly he couldn’t see who waited inside until he crossed the threshold.

His father stood, arms crossed, crown gleaming and a smug smirk carved into his face like a permanent fixture.

Two guards flanked him, a pointless display. Rain could have snapped their necks with a thought if he wanted to. They were props, nothing more.

Rain flipped his wet hair out of his eyes, rubbing the water from his face. Then he mirrored his father’s smirk; the same sharp curl of the lip, the same cold amusement. One of the few traits they shared.

“Good day, Father,” Rain said coolly, peeling off his sodden jacket and tossing it aside. A servant darted forward from the shadows to retrieve it.

“We missed you at Phaeday dinner, Son.”

The king’s tone was light, but his energy was anything but. Beneath the surface, he simmered with irritation and something else Rain couldn’t quite place.

“I was otherwise engaged,” Rain replied. “I’ll make up for it and be sure to grace you with my beloved presence next Phaeday.”

His clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin, heavy and cold. A chill swept over him, raising goosebumps along his arms. Every movement reminded him how soaked he was and how exposed he felt standing here among the unknowns in front of his father.

“Did you dash all this way to greet me?” Rain added. “I was planning to seek you out after a nice long hot shower.”

His father’s grin sharpened, eyes raking over him with scrutiny.

“It is rather interesting to see you in Grey clothing,” the king said, suspicion dripping from every word. “It appears they are very hospitable over there.”

“Yes, well,” Rain replied, “they might not like us very much, but they still accommodate us as all mortals do. They didn’t appreciate me hanging out in my flame-eaten Blue military uniform. Apparently, it frightened their visitors.”

He paused, letting the words sink in.

“You must have heard by now, it got rather toasty in Burgundy. Flaming hot, in fact. So hot I needed a few days to cool down before confronting you.”

The king coughed.

His energy shifted, the smugness evaporating, replaced by a flicker of fear.

He tried to hide it, but Rain felt it instantly.

“Confront me?” the king echoed, stepping back subtly, positioning the guards between them.

Rain’s lip curled.

As if they could protect him.