Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
IVRAEL
L ord Vazor’s scales catch the light from my study’s Caixlights as he leans forward, the golden pattern flickering.
Here I am, once again conspiring with a firelord to stop my world from crumbling around me.
“Your suspicions are correct,” he says, his deep voice resonating with barely contained power. “Jonyk’s researchers have found a way to extract and store royal blood essence.”
Ice crawls along my fingertips. I force my hands flat against the polished wood of my desktop, willing the frost to retreat. “Explain.”
“They harvest the essence drop by drop, using each portion to strengthen Jonyk’s claim to the throne.” His golden scales flare with controlled anger, his eyes glowing. “He means to control the very essence of magic itself, to harness it for himself.”
My stomach turns to lead. The temperature in the study plummets as my control slips further. On the window, frost obscures the view of the maze where Lara and Izzy and the twins practice.
“There’s worse,” Vazor says, his scales rasping as he moves in his chair. “He has begun a hunt for the crown and those who carry royal blood. His chosen hunters use...” His voice deepens to a rumbling growl. “Blood magic.”
The ice beneath my palms crackles. “Forbidden arts.”
The same forbidden arts I plan to use on the crown. The same crown—and the same blood—Jonyk currently seeks. And I have.
“He’s given the hunters free rein,” Vazor continues, heat rippling from his form. “They’ve bound ancient artifacts to track their prey, creating crystals attuned to royal blood. These abominations can sense the magical resonance hidden in human bloodlines.”
We do not have enough time until the summit, until the double moons rise, until everything I’ve worked for either succeeds or shatters completely. And now this.
My magic surges, and the entire room groans as ice spreads up the walls. With a glance at it, Vazor flicks his fingers, and it melts, leaving behind the faint scent of smoke.
“Who are these hunters?” I manage to ask, though frost forms with each word.
“Former Ice Court assassins, mostly. The exiled ones.” Vazor’s expression darkens. “Jonyk’s offered them redemption, titles, lands—whatever it takes to ensure their loyalty. They also eliminate anyone who helps their targets.”
My chest constricts as I think of Lara and Izzy, so close to the center of everything, their royal blood singing to these hunters even now.
I need to get them somewhere safe, need to protect them long enough to?—
No. I can’t afford to think that way. They’re a means to an end. Nothing more.
But the memory of Lara’s warmth against my skin makes the lie taste bitter.
“How many teams?” I force myself to focus on practical matters.
“Three that we know of. But they’re well-equipped, well-funded, and desperate to regain their positions.” Vazor leans back, watching ice crystals form in the air between us. “Your control seems... unstable today.”
I ignore his observation. “How close are they to finding any heirs?”
“Too close.” His scales ripple uneasily. “They’ve already eliminated several possibilities.”
The windows behind me creak as ice seeps into microscopic fissures. I need to maintain better control—this display of power could draw exactly the kind of attention we can’t afford. But with the double moons approaching, with Lara’s presence constantly testing my restraint, with an entire world’s salvation pressing down...
“We need to accelerate our timeline,” I say, more to myself than Vazor. “But we can’t.”
“Can your...guests be ready in time as it is?” The way he says ‘guests’ makes my jaw clench.
“They’ll have to be.” I rise and move to the window, pressing my palm against the frosted glass. In the distance, the maze’s walls gleam in the fading light.
The double moons peek through gathering clouds, their combined light already pulling at something deep within me. My reflection in the glass shows more golden sparks dancing in my eyes—a sign of how close I am to losing control completely.
“We’ll need additional security measures,” I say, turning back to Vazor. “Discreet ones.”
He nods, but his eyes hold a shadow I don’t want to examine too closely. “These hunters are ruthless. They won’t stop until they’ve found every last heir.”
“Then we’ll have to be more ruthless.” My fingers ache with cold I can’t control. “Give me everything you have on their tracking methods. We need to find ways to shield certain signatures.”
Certain people.
The words stick in my throat, unspoken as I stalk back to my desk. But from Vazor’s expression, he hears them anyway.
“There’s more about these hunters you need to know.” His voice drops lower, almost gentle. Like he’s softening a blow.
My hands clench on the desk. “Tell me.”
“They hunt in groups of three. Icecaix, Starcaix, and firelord working as one. An alliance Lady Qarine forged herself.”
The temperature plummets as understanding hits. Three races. Three types of magic. The perfect hunting party.
“The Ice Court assassin leading her favored team...” He pauses, and heat shimmers around him. “She wears armor made from our kind.”
“Firelord scales?”
“Harvested while the donor still lived.” His voice roughens. “Only fresh-taken scales keep their protection against iron and flame.”
My stomach turns as ice coats the desk in thickening layers.
Everything I’ve worked for, everything I must sacrifice—it all balances on the edge of a blade.
“The situation is even worse.” Vazor draws a folded paper from his coat. Even through my growing frost, I can feel the heat radiating from him as he hands it to me. “Qarine gave them this.”
My frozen fingers struggle to unfold the document. When I see what it contains, my breath catches. A map, covered in meticulous annotations showing Caix migration patterns to Earth.
Every known branch of the royal bloodline is marked in precise detail.
“She had these records all along?”
“And more.” His scales dim, a tell I’ve learned means grave news. “Her assassins have lists of suspected bloodline carriers in major Earth cities. They’re working systematically through human populations.”
The map crumples in my grip. “How many?”
“Seven confirmed kills.” His gaze holds mine, steady and dark. “Though one hunter team was destroyed when their target’s power manifested unexpectedly.”
Hope flares, sharp and bright. “The target?”
“Eliminated by another team shortly after.” He watches me, reading too much in my reaction as that hope gutters out. “But that’s not what concerns me most. One of the hunter teams was spotted near the Trasqo Market.”
My magic surges, wild and desperate, as I think of Lara and Izzy’s scent still lingering in the market.
Too close. They’re getting too close.
“When?” The word comes out rough, like it’s been dragged over broken ice.
“Three days ago.” Vazor rises, his movements careful, controlled. Like approaching a wounded predator. “Ivrael, if they track the sisters’ passage through the market?—”
“They won’t.” But I remember that first day—Lara’s scent of honey and stardust and warmth. If I could sense her heritage so clearly, how long before these hunters catch the same trail?
“You can’t be certain.” His voice gentles, which somehow makes it worse. “These aren’t ordinary assassins. The combination of Ice, Star, and firelord working together—it amplifies their abilities. And with Qarine’s resources...”
“What else has she given them?”
“Besides the maps, details of every known bloodline branch, tracking crystals attuned to royal signatures, and enough gold to buy loyalty across three realms?” He pauses, letting that sink in. “She’s using methods even Jonyk might hesitate to employ.”
The image of a skinned firelord flashes through my mind.
When the image is replaced by one of Lara, dead at an assassin’s hand, my control splinters completely. Ice explodes across the ceiling in deadly stalactites, and Vazor takes a measured step back as my magic surges and ripples like a living thing.
I pull my attention to the map crushed in my grip. The annotations swim before my eyes—centuries of migration patterns, bloodlines scattered like stars across Earth’s cities. If I can decipher their search pattern...
“Ivrael.” Vazor’s tone demands attention. Commands it. “You need to consider moving faster. If the hunters find them first?—”
“They won’t.” The words emerge in a cloud of frozen breath, each syllable sharp as the stalactites hanging above us. “I won’t let them.”
“Your protective instincts do you credit, but?—”
“This isn’t about protection.” The lie burns cold in my throat. Freezes my tongue. “The plan requires both sisters alive until the precise moment I need them. Nothing more.”
“Of course.” His tone suggests he believes nothing of the sort. “But speaking of precise moments...”
Vazor’s expression makes my jaw clench. Makes ice spread further across the floor. He sees too much. Has always seen too much.
He gestures to the ceiling. “Your control grows more unstable by the day. If you wait until the summit?—”
“I don’t have a choice.” I turn away.
“Then at least let me help secure the manor. My daughters?—”
“No.” The word cracks like breaking ice. Shards of frost explode outward from where I stand. “The fewer who know their true heritage, the better.”
Somewhere beyond the walls of my manor, hunters draw closer while I waste time teaching court dances and proper etiquette and how to move through a deadly labyrinth.
Teaching Lara to survive in a world that wants her dead.
“The timing must be exact,” I repeat.
Silence stretches between us, heavy with all the other things I will not say. With all the things Vazor knows I won’t say.
Finally, he sighs. “As you wish. But remember—these hunters are desperate. The promise of titles and lands makes them bold.”
The reminder sends fresh ice spiraling up the walls. I think of Adefina’s kindness to Lara, of Fintan’s quiet assistance, of every servant who’s shown her the slightest compassion. More lives I’ve endangered through my choices.
More blood that will stain my hands.
“I’ll increase security,” I concede, the words catching like frost in my throat. “Discreetly.”
“See that you do.” Vazor moves toward the door, then pauses. His next words fall like stones onto frozen water. “One last thing. The target who manifested power? She showed pure Icecaix abilities, despite being mostly human. And they had similar bloodline markers to the Evans sisters.”
I go perfectly motionless as I wait for what else he might have to say.
His expression grows grave, scales dulling to a muted gold. “But she was untrained, unprepared. The power consumed the girl from within even as she fought back. That’s why the second team eliminated her so easily.”
As the implications hit me, it’s all I can do to keep from doubling over in pain. Lara’s warmth pulses through my awareness again, and I imagine her power awakening fully—raw, untamed, destroying her from within.
“How long?” The question scrapes past frozen lips.
“Before the hunters find them? Or before their powers manifest? I don’t know.” He shakes his head slowly and his eyes meet mine, holding secrets I’m afraid to name. “Time grows short, my friend.”
My frozen fingers finally release their death grip on the map. “Your sources?”
He hesitates, scales shifting uneasily. “I’ve been watching for opposition to our plan, as we discussed. This information is... recent. But I confirmed it.”
If I’d known earlier, could I have better protected?—
“And you trust these sources?” Ice crystals form on my lips with each word.
“Only one.” His scales dim, betraying rare emotion. “Seren. She was mine to train, once.”
His protégé. I nod, accepting that he might have reason to trust that source.
I think of Lara in the maze, unaware of how many forces are converging on her. So very few days until I lose her forever—one way or another.
“Is that everything?” I ask.
Vazor shakes his head. “Not quite.”
The ice beneath my feet spreads in an unstoppable wave, and for once, I don’t try to control it.