73. Chapter 73
“ I trust you all enjoyed your frivolous drinking tonight,” Sylven intoned. “You’ve grown quite used to your comforts thanks to this…” His gaze slid across the dais, to Queen Lyra, and finally to King Maelion, “family.” The word dripped with mockery.
He turned, gesturing toward a line of grim-faced soldiers. “Those of you who did not drink will form a line here where you’ll be executed.”
Esme crumpled where she stood, sobs tearing through the hall like a dirge. Her father standing nearby caught her before she hit the floor, whispering frantic prayers into her hair.
Sylven only watched, detached, as if studying insects.
Kaelin’s fingers curled into her palms. The air steadied in her chest as she commanded the magic to rise. It answered, fierce and ancient, a legacy of her lineage’s unyielding will. She hadn’t reached for it like this before, but there was no hesitation now, only purpose.
As Kaelin inhaled, she felt the panicked heartbeats of every fae in the room, fluttering like trapped birds desperately trying to escape their cages. The poison traveled through their veins, a sickly rot that clawed its way toward their hearts.
They were dying, one by one .
Her magic stretched outward, invisible threads tangling through the crowd until it snagged on a Esme. Kaelin’s magic wrapped around her mind. Esme froze, then convulsed, choking on her own breath.
Kaelin gritted her teeth, nails biting into her palms. Esme gagged, vomiting the corrupted feast from her stomach. Kaelin urged into Esme’s mind, Get it out. Get it all out.
Esme’s bloodshot eyes locked on Kaelin’s as she retched again, a silent plea breaking between them. Kaelin released her hold. Esme sagged in her father’s arms, pale and shaking.
But still alive.
The poison, though, still slithered inside her, hungry for her heart.
Kaelin caught herself on the banquet table, the wood biting into her palms. She drew a shuddering breath and summoned her magic again, this time diving deeper and into the Esme’s bloodstream.
The rhythm of her heart. The pulse of her veins. Turn , Kaelin’s magic urged. Turn the other way .
And the blood shuddered, then reversed course, winding against the poison’s current. Kaelin’s knees wobbled. The room tilted, but she didn’t stop.
A trickle of blood slid from Esme’s nose, painting a red path down her throat, staining her dress.
More , Kaelin commanded. Until it’s pure.
Esme groaned as blood spilled faster, dripping to the marble floor. Kaelin’s own vision flickered. Her temples throbbed.
Then, it stopped. Esme’s breathing steadied.
The rot was gone.
Kaelin sagged, every muscle trembling. A dull ache split through her skull, but Esme would live.
“Impressive.”
Sylven’s voice cut through the silence, having watched the entire exchange. Behind him, his soldiers had begun corralling courtiers into the execution line. Those who resisted were met with steel, a quick death that left crimson arcs across the floor.
Sylven’s eyes met Kaelin’s gaze. “The magic of your bloodline,” he murmured, approaching her as though she were prey. “To command another’s body, their very movements. Truly extraordinary. ”
He crouched near Esme. “But you were held back,” he said softly. “You never honed it. Never turned it into a weapon.” His head tilted, glancing at King Maelion and Queen Lyra. “If you had, perhaps you could’ve saved more.”
“Enough of this,” Maelion thundered, rising from his throne. Steel hissed as he drew his sword, the sound cutting through the chamber like a snarl. “You will not speak another word against her.”
Sylven’s lips curved. “Touched a nerve, have I?”
King Maelion leveled his blade at him, fury blazing in his eyes. “Try me, and see how long your tongue lasts. How dare you go against your sovereign.”
“Your sovereign?” he echoed. “All your loyal guards lie in their own pool of blood. Every piece you thought you could move is gone. The board’s been swept clean. It’s game over.”
Sylven took a single step closer, unhurried, as if pitying the king. “So tell me, how would you prefer to go out? Swinging that pretty blade in a useless fight, or walking away with what dignity you have left?”
Before Maelion could answer, two soldiers seized Queen Lyra by the arms, dragging her from the throne’s dais. Her crown slipped, clattering across the marble as she struggled against their grip.
“Unhand her!” Maelion roared.
“Maelion!”
Sylven’s attention slid back to Kaelin instead. The faintest smile curved his mouth as he stepped toward her, voice dropping to a low, venomous murmur. “Now… where were we?”
Before Kaelin could move, one of Sylven’s soldiers seized Esme by the hair and slit her throat .
Kaelin flinched.
Sylven stepped over Esme’s body without pause. “One life saved,” he emphasized. “One. What a waste of such exquisite magic.”
Kaelin lifted her chin, fury sparking beneath her exhaustion. Her magic flared—weak, fractured—but it answered. She seized Sylven’s body in her grasp, forcing his limbs to lock.
His mouth curved into a serpent’s smile. “Go on,” he taunted. “Show me what you can do, now that you’re nearly spent.”
Kaelin’s mind burned. Her magic screamed. But she thought of Ren—Ren, who never yielded, who stood bloodied and unbroken even when the world tried to crush her.
Panic knifed through her chest. Where in the hell was Ren? Was she safe or lying among the fallen? The thought nearly split her in two, but Kaelin forced it down, forced herself to breathe, to think. She needed a way out. A plan.
Yet as her gaze swept the hall, over the crumbling bodies of the loyal, the fae lined for execution, and Sylven’s dark figure closing the distance, her thoughts stuttered into silence. There was no plan.
Only the tightening noose of inevitability and the bastard walking straight toward her.
I will not yield , Kaelin thought, forcing Sylven to his knees. Her muscles shook. The air trembled. I will not falter. I will fight for my court, for my people, for my family.
Sylven’s knees bent an inch, then another, until black dots swarmed Kaelin’s vision. Pain exploded behind her eyes.
Sylven laughed. A low, terrible sound.
And with an effortless twist, he broke her hold.
Kaelin stumbled, catching herself on the table’s edge. She tried to summon her magic again, but it guttered like a dying flame.
Sylven closed the distance between them, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. He pinned her against a column, the cold marble biting her spine.
“I’ll keep you,” he murmured, brushing her cheek with mock tenderness.
She slapped at his hand, but he caught her wrist, his grip iron.
“You’ll bear my heirs, children of royal blood and terrifying magic.
” He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper.
“And when you break, you’ll thank me for it.
Because I’m going to take good care of you. ”
Kaelin’s head snapped up, fury blazing through the haze of exhaustion. “Go to hell,” she hissed, voice low and shaking with restrained violence.
Sylven’s smirk only deepened. “Oh, princess,” he murmured, stepping closer, the shadows swallowing them both. His body pressed against hers. “We’re already there.”
Her breath came fast, chest heaving against his .
Kaelin bared her teeth. “Take your hands off me, traitor , unless you’re eager to lose them.” She twisted in his hold. Her magic flickered, slipping through her grasp like sand.
He caught her chin between his fingers, forcing her face up to his. His grip bruised, his thumb tracing the corner of her mouth as if testing the tremor in her breath. “No,” he whispered. “You’ll stay right here, with me. Where you belong.”
Kaelin spat at him. “I’d sooner die than belong to you.”
Sylven’s eyes darkened, the faintest glint of amusement dancing there.
“Die? No, my dear. You’ll live. You’ll live to see everything you love kneel or burn.
And when the ashes settle, you’ll stand beside me.
” He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“You’ll never want for anything again in this world.
Not when you’re at my side. You’ll dine with kings, wield armies, bear heirs whose power will shake the heavens themselves. ”
Kaelin trembled from rage so raw it tasted like blood in her mouth.
“Dream all you want,” she said, forcing the words past the iron band of his grip.
“I’ll never bear your monsters.” She drew a slow breath, every syllable a blade.
“Ren was right. You’re a coward. You always have been.
You won’t make it far.” Her eyes seared into his.
“I will be the one to drive a knife through your chest, Sylven. I will watch the life leak from your pathetic eyes. You’ll beg for mercy with your last breath, and I’ll grant you none. ”
Sylven moved faster than thought. His hand shot out, tangling in her hair, yanking hard enough to tear a gasp from her throat.
Pain lanced down her spine as he forced her head back, forcing her gaze up to meet his.
The world tilted as he dragged her down, her knees slamming into the marble with a dull crack that echoed through the hall.
“Coddled, like a spoiled princess,” Sylven spat. “You will eat when I allow it, sleep when I allow it, and kneel when your king commands it. If obedience needs darkness, hunger, or iron, then that is what you will learn. And you will learn to be grateful for the hand that breaks you.”
Kaelin’s scalp burned beneath his grip, but she refused to look away.
He crouched, bringing his face close enough that she could see the faint flecks of silver in his irises, the cruel curve of his mouth. His fingers tightened in her hair until chunks of hair broke from her scalp, entangling in his fingers .
“I do enjoy it when you bare your teeth,” he murmured. “That fire in you will make your submission all the sweeter.”
But Kaelin held his gaze, unflinching, even on her knees.
Suddenly, a deafening bang split the air, shaking the very walls of the room. Sylven’s smile faltered, just slightly, right before the doors burst open.