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I stared at him, my eyes narrowing as realization dawned on me. “The rumors… the rescheduling of the coronation… That was you, wasn’t it? You spread the word about the new heir and moved up the ceremony.”

I had been in the fae lands with Cerise. He likely thought I wouldn’t even get back in time for the ceremony.

To be absent during my own coronation would have made me look like the most incompetent king in the history of our people.

Gorem’s lips grew thin. “That’s utterly absurd. You can’t prove that at all!” As the voices around us grew louder, he lifted his hands and shouted, “This is not how a trial is meant to be run! There is an order to things. There are protocols to follow!”

“Protocols be damned,” hissed Lord Kenworth, a short, rotund Mage from the Rabe tribe. “You caged and tortured a Rogue! You killed King Nolan! We cannot possibly let this go.”

Gorem started backing away from the chairs, but I was on my feet, too, ready to rush him if he tried to flee or shift. His wolf, Voss, was one of the most vicious wolves I had ever encountered; even Tavik preferred to avoid him.

“I can explain everything,” Gorem said slowly, hands raised in surrender. “I assure you there is a reasonable explanation for all of this.”

A sharp, earthy smell enveloped the room, and I stiffened, looking around in alarm. Why did it smell of Wolven magic?

Something tugged on my ankles, bringing me crashing to the floor. The rest of the council yelped as they, too, were taken down. With a growl, I thrashed my legs, trying to free myself, but shadows had coiled around them, pinning them to the floor.

Gorem was already sprinting from the room.

“Stop him!” I cried, struggling uselessly against the restraints. I tried to shift, hoping that by letting Tavik take over, we could wriggle free of the shadows.

But nothing happened.

“Tavik?” I shouted in panic.

No answer.

Cold horror washed over me, and I looked more closely at the shadows.

They were enchanted shadow cuffs—meant to suppress magic. The same kind I had used on Cerise when I’d first brought her here.

The nobles were screaming and writhing on the floor. The doors burst open, and several attendants rushed in, trying to tug the cuffs free.

Ramathos let out a mighty shout, his bulky arms straining as he tore at the cuffs. With a loud crack, they split in two, and I swore the floors and ceiling trembled from the force of it. Panting, he glared at me and drew closer. I stiffened, eyes widening at his approach.

Ramathos began to shift, his form elongating and massive wings spreading from his back. Within seconds, he had transformed into a huge, golden dragon, who let out a deafening roar. I flinched, turning my head away as I prepared for the beast to tear me to shreds. His claws slid along my legs, and I held my breath, my insides trembling.

With a sharp movement, the cuffs on my ankles snapped in two.

Blinking, I stared up at the dragon, mouth falling open. His eyes narrowed on me, and he gave me a single, stiff nod.

Go get the bastard, the dragon seemed to say.

I was already on my feet, shaking the cold feeling that still lingered in my bones from the shadow cuffs.

“Alaric?” Tavik cried, his voice filling my mind with panic. “Alaric, what happened?”

“Gorem got away. I need you to help me find him. Can you shift?”

“Yes,” Tavik growled, pulsing with energy. I was already letting the shift take over me as I sprinted from the room.

My consciousness withdrew as Tavik emerged, bounding forward in wolf form. He leapt down the hall, pausing to sniff the carpet. “He came this way.”

He continued down another corridor, and a pair of attendants shrieked in alarm. It wasn’t exactly proper to have our animal forms bounding through the castle, but it didn’t matter. Gorem had to be found at all costs.

“Would he have gone back to his manor?” I wondered.

Tavik leaned down, pressing his snout along the floor. “I’m sensing he went this way—away from the entrance doors.”