Page 30 of Veil of Night & Flames

Drakkar leans back, his lips together as he shakes his head.

“You were going to ride on the Realm of the Others tonight. A realm that has paid me tribute since The Breaking. A realm whose people have done nothing to earn what you intended for them. You were going to do this in my name, and you believed your strength would prove me weak.”

Adric pauses. The torchlight flickers across his face, and for a fraction of a moment, he is not the man who took me to St. Augustine this morning. He is something far older. And far, far more dangerous.

His gaze shifts down the line and stops on the flame-haired man.

“And you,” Adric says, his voice quiet now in a way that makes the courtyard feel small. “You came as a guest. You stood beneath my roof. You drank my wine at my betrothal to my bride. And you carried this plot into my hall while I welcomed you.”

The flame-haired man lifts his head. The sneer is gone. What’s left is nothing. Just a face that’s entirely unreadable. Like he’s determined that he’s not going to give Adric the satisfaction of fear or hatred or anything else.

“My realm offered you hospitality,” Adric continues. “And you broke it. There is no older crime in any of the realms.”

A ripple of sound moves through the courtiers behind us. I think it’s support for Adric’s words, but my hand tightens around Chase’s anyway. In Game of Thrones, this is where someone would die.

Adric, however, remains regal and unconcerned. “You sought to foment a rebellion that would burn across this universe until you had dismantled everything I have built.”

Before him, the prisoners shift. All except Drakkar and the flame-haired man, both of whom keep still as stone.

I glance at the watching courtiers, then at Adric. And I’m right there, too, for the whole court to see.

That’s when it hits me.

He’s not just punishing the rebels—he’s making me an exhibit. The court is seeing a king with a Bride at his side, his brother in the wings, his realm consolidating around him. And I’m part of the demonstration, whether I agreed to be or not.

“You thought you could move against me this night,” Adric continues, his voice still low and firm and level. “You believed that my betrothal to a bride from the Real made me less. You believed that my promise to my brother not to raid the Real is a weakness. It is not.” He looks out over all who are present. “Let us be clear. The last of the five realms will soon be under my rule, and I will not destroy the Real before bringing it under my dominion.”

My stomach twists. I’d let myself soften to Adric. Let myself forget what he wants—all five realms with no more barriers. So no, he won’t destroy the Real. Not before he can claim it.

But once it is his…

I shiver. Because I don’t know what that means for my home. He seems to truly think everything will be fine. But I don’t see how. More importantly, neither does Chase.

Chase. A bit of relief bolsters me, and I force the dark thoughts away. The barriers aren’t falling. Chase won’t let them. I won’t let them. The armageddon that could come to pass won’t because I’ll make sure it doesn’t. I have the power, after all. At least, that’s what everyone keeps telling me.

The power to defend my home. The power to deny—and defy—my fiancé.

And hell yes, I’m going to use it.

I draw a calming breath, my panic subsiding as Adric continues. “I am going to make this very simple,” he says. “And I speak now to those of you who have been spinning plots similar to the ones Drakkar had spun. Plots which shall not come to fruition.”

His eyes sweep the crowd. “Allow me to demonstrate what happens to those who use my name to pursue their own appetites. This demonstration will be remembered by the next faction that imagines my bride is a crack they can reach through.”

He doesn’t look at me, and I’m grateful. I honestly don’t know what he’d see on my face.

“Kali. The Blade.”

Kali steps forward, her movements both graceful and brutal as she walks to Adric’s side. She accepts a long, curved blade from a man I hadn’t noticed approach the platform. She draws it once across her own forearm—a clean, shallow line—and lets a few drops of her own blood fall to the stones at her feet as if in consecration.

Then she crosses to Drakkar. He tries to stand, but the man who’d presented the blade holds him down.

Chase’s hand tightens in mine, and he starts to tug me to him. I shake my head, then squeeze his fingers.

I know he expects me to close my eyes and bury my face in his chest. But I’m not going to do that. Bizarre or not, I’m here. And god help me, some part of me belongs here now too—almost as much as I belong in the Real.

That scares me more than the blood on the stones, but I’m not looking away. I will see this through.

Drakkar dies first, Kali’s blade slicing his throat so that a fountain of blood sprays across the stones. He dies instantly, and I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have expected even that small a respite from Kali.