53. Chapter 53
MAXX
The dust was still settling when the guards came for us.
Grey ash drifted through the air, coating the shattered crystal and overturned tables, catching in the hair of nobles who were still too terrified to move.
General Aldrath. What remained of him.
I'd seen a lot of things in my life. Battlefields. Massacres. The kind of violence that imprints on the soul. But watching a man dissolve into powder while floating three feet off the ground—watching Amaria unmake him with nothing but grief and rage—
That was magnificent.
The thought popped up before I could stop it. Wrong time. Wrong place. But gods, she'd been glorious.
"Maxx."
I turned and found Serenya pressed against my side, her fingers digging into my arm hard enough to bruise.
"I've got you, Starlight." I pulled her closer. "I've got you. It's over."
It wasn't over.
"By order of the Crown."
The Captain of the Guard stepped forward, flanked by six soldiers in full armor. His face was pale—they'd all watched their General become a memory—but his voice was steady. Professional.
Scared men following orders. The most dangerous kind.
"The companions of the Lady Amaria are to be taken into custody."
Serenya flinched. I stepped in front of her.
"She didn't do anything." The words came out sharper than I intended. "Serenya was the victim. Your General—"
“Is no longer available for questioning.” A vein pulsed in the Captain’s neck. “Shackles. Now.”
Two guards moved forward. The suppression runes gleamed on the iron.
Fight, my instincts screamed. You could take at least three of them before—
"Maxx." Serenya's hand found mine. Squeezed. "Don't."
She was right. I knew she was right. Fighting now would only make it worse—for her, for Amaria, for whatever slim chance we had of surviving this court with our heads attached.
But watching them clamp the iron around Serenya's wrists—watching her gasp as the metal touched her skin—
That nearly broke me.
"Careful." The word ripped out of me as a guard yanked her forward. "She's fragile, you bastard—"
The butt of a spear caught me in the stomach.
I doubled over. Couldn't breathe. Stars burst across my vision. Then hands grabbed my arms from behind and clamped the iron shackles down before I could twist free.
"The King wants them secured." The Captain's voice was distant. Muffled. "Not comfortable."
Serenya.
I forced myself upright. Found her through the blur of pain—shaking, being dragged toward the door by guards who handled her like cargo. Like something to be stored and forgotten.
"I'm here." I stumbled after her, my own shackles already burning cold against my wrists. "Serenya, I'm right here—"
"No communication."
A guard stepped between us. Armored chest. Blank face. A wall of metal and indifference.
"You'll be housed separately. King's orders."
No.
"She needs—" I tried to push past him. Another spear caught me across the shoulders. I fell to my knees.
"Maxx!"
Serenya's voice. Terrified. Breaking.
I looked up in time to see them drag her through a different door. Her eyes found mine across the chaos—wide, wet, full of a fear I'd promised myself I would never let her feel again.
Then she was gone.
I sagged against the guard holding my arm and for a moment the great hall tilted sideways, the shattered crystal and drifting ash smearing into a single grey blur. Her face stayed. Those eyes. That fear. Branded into the back of my skull where I'd see it every time I closed my eyes.
They took me the long way. Through the great hall, past the wreckage of the feast, past nobles still weeping and guards still scraping what was left of Aldrath into buckets.
Every step jarred my ribs. A deep ache throbbed through my gut where the first spear had hit, and the second had left my shoulders burning under the pull of the shackles.
My room—our room, the one Serenya and I had shared—was at the end of a long corridor. Four guards stood outside it now. Four more waited inside.
"The King wants you contained." The Captain shoved me through the doorway. "For your own safety."
"My safety." I laughed. It came out wrong. Broken. "Right."
"The girl will be housed three floors up. Supervised. Cared for."
Cared for. Like she was a pet. Like she was livestock being moved to a different pen.
"If you touch her—"
"We have our orders." The Captain's face was hard. "Behave, and she'll be treated well."
The door slammed shut. Locks engaged—three of them, heavy iron, bolted from the outside.
The room still smelled like her. Herbs and ink and the faint sweetness of lemon from the tart she'd eaten this morning. The dog's blanket was balled up in the corner—empty. At least the little beast was with her. At least Dreadscale had gotten that right.
One of us kept our promise.
The suppression cuffs burned.
Not hot. Cold. A deep, aching cold that seeped into the bones and stayed there. It pressed down on my magic like a boot on a throat—not enough to kill, just enough to suffocate.
I paced. Couldn't help it. The room felt smaller now. The walls closer. Every shadow looked like a guard waiting to drag Serenya somewhere worse.
She's scared. She's alone. She's—
I slammed my fist against the door. Pain lanced up my arm. The shackles rattled.
Nothing happened.
No one came.
I hit it again and again until my knuckles split and blood smeared across the wood.
"SERENYA!"
The name echoed, faded, then died.
Somewhere above me—three floors up, might as well be three kingdoms—she was locked in a room just like this one. Probably crying. Definitely terrified. Wondering if anyone was coming for her.
I'm coming, I thought at her, even though she couldn't hear me. I swear to every dead god, I'm coming.
I slid down the door. Sat in the dark with my bleeding hands and my burning wrists and the weight of every promise I couldn't keep.
Guard her, Dreadscale had said.
With my life, I'd answered.
I leaned my forehead against the cold wood.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.