Chapter 40
Chapter
Forty
The air vibrated with a rumble so deep it shook the very stone beneath our feet.
Hein descended like a meteor of silver fury, cutting through the sky with terrifying speed. His wings flared wide, casting a long shadow over the grounds, and every rider on the Ascension field instinctively stepped back.
Even Kaelith growled low in my mind—Hein is not calm.
Zander was on his feet again, the arrow still embedded in the flesh of his arm, blood trailing down to his fingertips. But he stood tall. Unyielding. His eyes, once lavender, had turned onyx, burning with quiet wrath.
Theron had just begun to stand again when Hein landed with a thunderous impact. The ground shuddered. The banners snapped wildly in the gust, and the guards flinched back as the massive silver dragon coiled protectively in front of his rider.
Hein’s neck arched, fire building deep in his throat, the heat so sudden the air shimmered around us.
The traitorous courier, the messenger who had delivered the lie, the chaos, smirked at the enormous dragon with the arrogance of a fanatic.
“Your species will be eradicated,” he spat. “Killed, caged, or bred into obedience. You are a scourge upon the human race.”
Hein roared.
It wasn’t a sound of fury, it was judgment.
And fire followed.
It erupted in a stream of orange flame that swallowed the man whole. His scream was brief. His death, quicker still. What was left of him was ash, blown away in the wind.
Hein turned slowly, his gleaming eyes locking onto Theron.
The prince regent, always composed, always calculating—staggered.
“You can’t…” he stammered. “You can’t threaten me. I speak for the crown—”
Hein growled low, and the sound was like the earth groaning beneath us.
Zander didn’t flinch. He ignored the blood still trickling from his wound as he stepped forward, placing a steadying hand against Hein’s side. The dragon went still, but the heat radiating off him could have melted steel.
“I would choose your next words very carefully, brother,” Zander said, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Hein knows my heart. My thoughts. I have never betrayed the crown, and I never will.”
Theron’s gaze fell to the dead guard at his feet, the man who had taken the arrow meant for him. His expression shifted, not to grief, but calculation. Then regret.
“I was… misled,” he murmured, breathless. “It’s obvious now. The traitorous sect isn’t just trying to destroy the guild. They mean to cleanse our bloodline. To end the royal family.”
Zander’s eyes narrowed. “That should’ve been clear the moment they declared war.”
“We must get word to Dorian,” Theron said, already turning toward the castle. “He needs to prepare the borders.”
And as the court scrambled back into motion, the banners still fluttering above us like battle flags, I made my way to Zander and Hein, feeling the pressure of this new war.
The chaos on the Ascension Grounds still echoed in my bones as I stepped to Zander’s side. His tunic clung wetly to his arm, the blood soaking through fabric and leathers.
“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked, quieter now that the crowd had dispersed.
He nodded once, the grim set of his jaw softening for a flicker of a moment. “Yeah.”
Cade joined us as we began walking toward the Yarrow Gardens, his stride purposeful but alert, his hand never far from the hilt of his blade.
“I’ve been looking into the sects,” Cade said as we passed beneath the arched trellises of the garden paths, our boots crunching on gravel.
The perfume of blooming herbs was a cruel contrast to the metallic scent of blood.
“But I didn’t think either group would be bold enough to openly oppose the crown. Not yet.”
“I’m surprised too,” Zander muttered, clutching his arm as a fresh line of crimson trailed down his fingers. “It doesn’t make sense. Why reveal yourselves with that kind of declaration? They should’ve stayed in the shadows for as long as possible.”
“They just made themselves a target,” I added.
“Exactly,” Zander said, grimacing as we reached the entrance to the Healers’ Quadrant. “Now every dragon in the Horde will be looking for them.”
“Well,” Cade said with a slight smirk, “they can’t exactly send dragons into the village without causing a kingdom-wide panic.”
Zander huffed a breath of agreement but didn’t respond as we stepped through the stone archway. The scent of mint, dried blood, and antiseptic filled the air.
“Dragons have excellent hearing. That was a death sentence.”
Meri appeared instantly, her red hair tied back in a loose braid, green eyes as sharp as steel. Her gaze dropped to Zander’s arm, and without a word, she ushered us toward an empty cot.
“Lay down,” she instructed firmly.
Zander obeyed, sinking into the cot with a wince. Meri knelt beside him, pressing two fingers just above the bolt.
“Hold still.”
She placed her hand close to the wound, not touching it but hovering just enough that threads of gold began to hum beneath her palm. The magic was delicate and precise.
Then—with no more warning—she yanked the arrow free.
Zander’s entire body tensed, a hiss of pain escaping between his teeth.
Meri handed the bloodied bolt to Cade and pressed a cloth against Zander’s skin, letting the healing magic pulse through her hand.
“I can fix the muscle,” she said calmly, “but you’ll be sore for a day or two. Try not to wrestle anything bigger than a stray dog.”
Zander cracked a weak smile.
Cade raised an eyebrow at me. “Welcome to court politics?”
I looked at the crimson-streaked cloth, at Zander’s pale skin beneath the wound, and the fading echoes of fire in my mind from Hein.
“No,” I said quietly. “This isn’t politics, this is war.”
I glanced at Zander’s shoulder but the wound had vanished.
Zander sat up on the cot, rotating his arm slowly, testing the muscle. The skin beneath the hole in his tunic was smooth, healed perfectly, not even a scar left behind. Meri had done her work with quiet, effortless precision, as always.
Relief unfurled in my chest like breath after drowning.
“Thank you, Meri,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with the truth of what could have happened.
Zander glanced at me and gave a tired but cocky wink. “Were you worried about me?”
“Yes,” I said simply, honestly.
There was no reason to pretend. Not anymore.
Cade let out a long breath, arms crossed. “He redirected the arrow with his power,” he muttered, “but he should’ve reacted sooner.”
Zander rubbed the back of his neck, looking more thoughtful than defensive. “I tried to. I thought I was shielding Theron, but something… happened.”
My brows pinched. “What do you mean?”
“My power,” he said, glancing at me, then Meri. “It felt blocked for a second. Like something had… pressed down on it. It came back fast, but that pause, that hesitation, threw me off.”
“Could it be a spell?” I asked.
Zander’s gaze darkened. “Maybe. I’m not sure. But it wasn’t natural. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
Before anyone could respond, the door slammed open.
Remy stormed in, tension coiled in every line of his body. His eyes flicked immediately to Zander—then me. They lingered on how close we were.
But he didn’t comment.
Not about that.
“We have a problem,” he said, voice clipped and urgent.
“Just one?” Zander muttered, already reaching for his jacket.
Remy stepped fully into the room, the door swinging shut behind him with a finality that made my stomach twist. His eyes swept over Meri, Cade, Zander, and then settled on me. Whatever edge he’d been carrying since the attack had hardened into something colder. More certain.
Zander stood, flexing his healed arm, but Remy didn’t look impressed. “You okay?” he asked gruffly.
“I’ll live,” Zander said, but his tone wasn’t casual, it was taut, ready.
Remy nodded once, then cut straight to it. “Theron’s rise to power is nearly complete.”
The air in the room shifted.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Remy’s jaw worked for a moment before he answered. “The king’s mind is… broken. His paranoia has reached the point where he doesn’t trust his own council. He’s begun relying on Theron more and more. For everything. He thinks it’s loyalty, but it’s manipulation.”
Zander’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen it. But the lords wouldn’t follow Theron blindly.”
“They aren’t blind anymore,” Remy said flatly.
“He’s been swaying them for months. Slowly.
Carefully. Promises of land, status, autonomy.
He’s playing the long game, and with this incident,” his voice dripped with sarcasm, “he’s painted himself the victim of royal in-fighting and painted you,” he looked at Zander, “as the unstable wildcard.”
Zander folded his arms, unreadable. “So what… you’re saying he’s going to take the throne?”
“No,” Remy said. “I’m saying he already has.”
The words settled like dust in a crypt.
“At least until the king dies,” Remy added.
Meri cursed softly under her breath. Cade ran a hand through his hair, pacing toward the wall.
I stared at Remy. “So what happens now?”
He didn’t answer right away.
But the look in his eyes told me everything.
We had a new enemy.
Theron.
The healer’s room felt too small for the reality of what we were discussing. Meri had left us in silence, but her expression before she’d gone said it all, she knew this was bigger than anything we’d faced yet.
Zander leaned against the far wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, the band of freshly healed skin still faintly pink beneath his tunic. Cade paced behind him like a caged blade, all sharp glances and unfinished thoughts.
Remy stood near the window, half-shadowed, the light casting jagged lines across his face. I was between them all, my thoughts spinning with every possibility.
“We can’t let Theron tighten his grip on the throne,” Zander said, voice low. “Not while the king still breathes. Not while we’re still breathing.”
“He’s manipulating the court,” I added. “Twisting their fear to his advantage. They think he’s stabilizing the kingdom, but he’s orchestrating the chaos.”
“And no one sees it,” Cade muttered. “They see a son supporting a sick king. They don’t see the strings he’s pulling behind the curtain.”
Zander’s jaw clenched. “We have to expose him.”
“To who?” Remy asked sharply. “The same court that already doubts you? The same lords he’s bought off? Even Dorian is walking a knife’s edge with the other kingdoms, if you go after Theron publicly without proof, they’ll call it treason.”
“Then we find the proof,” I said. “If he’s funding or even involved with the Varnari—”
“He is,” Cade interrupted, turning. “At least partially. One of my sources in the outer kingdoms said the new leader of the Varnari, whoever they are, rose to power just after Theron’s agents made a quiet visit to their territory. Said it was about ‘military strategy.’”
Zander’s head turned sharply. “And you didn’t mention this?”
“I didn’t know it meant this,” Cade shot back. “But if Theron is using these sects to destabilize the throne… he’s worse than a usurper. He’s a traitor.”
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken truths.
Then I looked at Remy. The question had been sitting like a stone in my throat since the accusation on the Ascension Grounds.
“Did you tell him?” I asked softly.
Remy blinked. “What?”
“Did you tell Theron I used my blood to save Zander?”
His gaze locked onto mine.
And for a moment, just a breath, I saw something flicker behind his eyes. Guilt? Shame?
“No,” he said finally. “I didn’t have to.”
My chest tightened.
“He has eyes everywhere,” Remy continued. “In the healers’ quadrant. In the training halls. Even within the Fourth Guild. And he’s been watching you since the day Kaelith chose you.”
Zander pushed off the wall. “Then that means the circle around us is tighter than we thought.”
“We need allies,” Cade said grimly. “And we need them now.”
Because if Theron was working with the Varnari, if he had already begun setting fire to the foundation of the throne—
—then we weren’t just fighting a war for Warriath.
We stepped out of the Healers’ Quadrant, the midday sun filtered through the branches of the Yarrow Gardens, casting soft gold light over the cobbled walk. The air was cool, deceptively calm after the chaos that had unfolded only hours ago.
Zander adjusted the edge of his coat, his expression unreadable now that the pain was gone and strategy had taken its place.
Cade was beside him, eyes scanning the rooftops, ever the silent sentinel.
Remy walked just behind me, his presence like a shadow, protective, steady, but heavier than before.
That was when Luthias approached us, striding quickly up the path from the far gate.
“We have a problem,” he said without preamble, his voice tight with urgency.
Zander didn’t even blink. “There’s a lot of that going around lately. What is it now?”
Luthias glanced around, then leaned in slightly, his voice low. “One of the maids I trust, said she saw a man inside the palace. Said he had red eyes… and wore a black robe.”
My stomach dropped.
“Is that even possible?” I asked, voice sharp.
Zander stilled beside me, his eyes narrowing. “Only if a member of palace security let him in.”
“The wards,” I said, swallowing thickly. “How would he get past them?”
“You can’t,” Remy said, voice rough. “Not unless someone inside took them down temporarily.”
Zander’s expression darkened. “Or… if a warder from our own kingdom allowed it. That’s the only way to cross a protective ward of that magnitude.”
Luthias nodded grimly. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Silence wrapped around us like a noose. The thought of a Blood Fae inside the castle—our castle—meant this wasn’t just infiltration.
This was infiltration with help.
The enemy wasn’t just outside the walls anymore.
They were already inside.