Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Theron stood at the podium, robes immaculate, crownless but exuding a kind of command that had nothing to do with virtue and everything to do with venom polished into charm. His gaze roamed over Kaelith, lingering, tinged with something that made my stomach twist.
Envy.
“Riders,” he said, spreading his arms like he was offering a gift. “The Shiftling has returned.”
Kaelith’s twin tails flicked behind her, both tipped with crescent scythes. Her body shimmered like twilight wrapped in flame. Even the air around her seemed to bend to her power.
“Isn’t she magnificent?”
A ripple of clapping followed, uneven and uncertain. Some riders raised their hands out of habit. Others hesitated with wariness etched in every tight-lipped face. Kaelith didn’t care. Her wings arched slightly, catching the light as if to remind them what magnificence truly was.
Theron’s voice cut through again. “There was a prophecy of such an event, but we assumed it meant the Unifier would return. Perhaps we were wrong.” His eyes slid to me like a dagger sheathed in silk. “Ashe Rebec will play a key role in the upcoming war.”
The crowd shifted. Several riders turned toward me. I didn’t flinch. Let them look. Kaelith lifted her head higher, the proud gleam of starlight and sovereignty in her eyes.
But Zander didn’t move. He still stood like a statue near the base of the podium, the cords in his neck tight, his hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t look at Theron.
He looked at me.
Theron noticed. His lips curved, not quite a smile, more a performance.
“It is with a heavy heart that I report my brother Zander is not the son of King Emlem Rayne.”
The world tipped. A storm of murmurs broke out across the Ascension Grounds, loud and immediate.
“What did he say?”
“Not the king’s son?”
“That’s not possible—”
Zander remained still, the only calm in a growing wave of disbelief.
Theron lifted his hands, mock humility gracing his features. “Obviously, this arrangement was not Zander’s fault. He is still my half-brother. In fact, his father is full fae and has worked for the crown since the Unification Treaty was signed.”
My breath caught.
Alahathrial.
Theron was playing the long game. Trying to discredit Zander without disowning him—undermining his claim to any throne, but keeping him close enough to use.
Kaelith growled.
Zander still hadn’t looked away from me. His expression didn’t waver. But his voice moved into my mind, quiet and raw.
It doesn’t matter what he says. I know who I am. And I know where I stand.
Kaelith’s twin tails shimmered with violet light before folding inward, compressing in a ripple of raw power. The dual scythes blurred into one sleek blade, and her form seemed to settle, less threatening, but no less lethal. Her body held still, but her eyes…
They locked on Theron like she was choosing which part of him to eat first.
Kaelith, no, I thought.
She didn’t answer. Her gaze narrowed.
Zander moved. Not fast, but deliberate, stepping between Theron and Kaelith. Hein followed, body lowering slightly, wings flared just enough to show that if it came to it, he’d drag his claws through half the court to protect Zander… or stop Kaelith from starting a war.
Theron’s hand lifted, graceful, controlled, always playing the ruler, even now. “Zander is still royalty,” he said smoothly, as if Kaelith’s very presence wasn’t holding the entire field hostage. “Still a son of the queen. But he is ineligible for the throne.”
A beat passed before Cade, as bold and loud as always, called out from the front of the squad. “Zander never wanted the throne.”
A murmur of agreement rolled through the gathered riders.
Theron’s jaw twitched, but he forced a nod. “Yes. Of course. His heritage is irrelevant… as Prince Dorian is the oldest Rayne. And when he fails to take his place, I have already made arrangements to ensure my transition to king will be as smooth as possible.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It hummed—taut and laced with magic, with tension, with the kind of stillness before a strike.
Kaelith’s nostrils flared.
Hein’s body shifted.
My hand moved toward my blade.
He thinks the crown belongs to him, Zander said in my mind, quiet and calm.
The question is why? How does he know Dorian won’t return? I replied.
But the look on Kaelith’s face said otherwise. Theron wasn’t just a threat to Zander anymore.
He was a threat to us all.
Theron’s voice rang out clear and proud from the podium, as if he hadn’t just tried to strip his brother of any claim to the throne.
“Zander Rayne,” he said, gesturing to him with a practiced sweep of his arm.
“Few riders in our history have shown such affinity with their dragon. The strength of his bond with Hein is undeniable, one forged not just in blood, but in battle. And now, that bond is entwined with the Shiftling herself.”
The crowd shifted uneasily, eyes darting to Kaelith as her wings tightened and her glowing eyes didn’t waver from Theron’s back. I could feel her magic humming in my chest, still tightly coiled, still on the edge.
Theron continued, “Zander’s prowess as a rider, his loyalty to the realm, his skill in combat…” He let the words stretch, letting each one land like a stone dropped in still water. “They speak for themselves.”
I blinked. What in the actual hells…
Zander’s expression mirrored mine—shocked, wary, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came. His brow furrowed like he didn’t know if this was some kind of trick, or if Theron had been dosed with something strong enough to melt logic from his brain.
“But while Zander’s birth may be... unconventional,” Theron said, “his strength, his blood, and his magic are valuable. He is bonded to the largest living dragon, and that alone makes him essential.”
He paused.
“I wish to name Zander Rayne the new Commander of Fourth Guild,” Theron declared. “He will report directly to me.”
The field exploded in murmurs and stifled gasps.
Major Ledor moved like he’d been slapped. His mouth opened, then closed. His fingers twitched violently, as if he wanted to slice the air open and climb through it just to escape the moment. He stormed to Theron’s side, his hands gesturing wildly, his lips moving too fast to make out words.
Riven leaned closer and muttered, “Is it just me, or does Major Ledor look like he’s about to have a seizure?”
Naia chuckled under her breath. “I haven’t seen anyone twitch like that since Cordelle tried fae coffee for the first time.”
Cordelle scowled. “It was a strong blend.”
I didn’t laugh. My eyes were on Zander.
This doesn’t make sense, I whispered into our bond.
None of it does, he answered, still standing stiffly, eyes locked on Theron like he was trying to peel back the skin and find the motive underneath.
Ferrula crossed her arms. “Zander’s new post will make ordering him around... difficult.”
“Yeah,” I said, the knot in my gut tightening, “the question is—why would Theron want that?”
Because if there was one thing Theron never did, it was hand someone power he couldn’t control. And Zander? He was the one man Theron would never tame.
So why put him at the top of Fourth Guild?
And why now?
Theron raised both hands, fingers splayed like he could calm a storm with a simple motion. “Riders,” he called, his voice slicing through the murmur of shifting banners and too-loud whispers. “I understand this may come as a surprise, but I assure you it is a necessary strategy.”
My spine stiffened as he turned toward the crowd, his expression too smug to be mistaken for anything but satisfaction.
“I have entrusted my brother,” he gestured toward Zander with a practiced sweep of his arm, “with a very important task. One that will shift the tide of this war.”
Zander’s shoulders tensed beside Hein, who emitted a low rumble. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but I felt him freeze.
“He will infiltrate the Blood Fae Isle and retrieve any weapons or magics that can aid us in the coming battles. My father—” he paused, the calculated weight of the word father thick on his tongue, “—has been researching a weapon. One powerful enough to annihilate the Blood Fae.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
A few paces to my left, Ferrula stood like a mountain carved from fury, and to my right, Tae hissed a curse under his breath.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “He promoted Zander so he could be in control of our mission.”
My eyes didn’t leave Theron. “Of course he did,” I bit out. “If we’d gone on our own, we could’ve kept anything we found for the crown, or used it ourselves, if it came to that. But now…”
“Now,” Ferrula growled, “we’ll be watched. Tracked. Every move we make will be under scrutiny.”
“Theron will be waiting on the Ascension Grounds the moment we return,” I said. “Hands open. Demanding.”
“He’s using Zander,” Ferrula added, her voice edged with disdain.
“Yes.” My voice dropped to a whisper, my gaze flicking to Zander—still standing like a statue carved of marble, face unreadable. “And the worst part? He knows it.”
Zander might carry the title. But Theron still held the leash.
And I didn’t know how long Zander would keep pretending not to feel its choke.
I stumbled slightly when Gerane bumped into me. “Sorry, Rider. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
As far as pickpockets went Gerane was clumsy, but my father hadn’t hired him because he needed a thief. My fingers deftly slipped to the piece of paper tucked into my armor.
I opened it slowly and glanced at the message as the murmurs on the Ascension Grounds turned to full-blown questions.