A Court of Swords and Silver (The Forth Guild #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

“Total chaos,” Jax said, his expression grim as he jogged toward us. The wind carried smoke and the tang of something scorched, but his voice was what chilled me. Not the battlefield growl, but the quiet tension of someone barely holding the storm back.

My stomach dropped. “How did she die?”

Before he could answer, Major Ledor gave us a hard stare, his crimson cloak fluttering behind him like a warning flare.

“Do not leave the grounds,” he ordered without stopping, eyes as sharp as steel.

He veered sharply when he caught sight of a guard detaining a member of Crownwatch.

Even the crown’s most loyal were being questioned?

He barked something I couldn’t catch and disappeared into the chaos.

Jax exhaled hard. “Theron and Lady Belana had dinner tonight. Something formal. A private meeting to finalize their wedding preparations. Just the two of them.”

That didn’t explain her death.

“A court courier summoned him,” Jax went on. “An urgent meeting with someone from Moustal. He left her alone for maybe twenty minutes. And when he got back…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

“She was dead,” I whispered.

He nodded once. “Knife to the back. Pierced her heart. Quick and clean. No signs of struggle. It’s unlikely she even saw her attacker.”

I looked toward the castle, where servants and guards scrambled like ants around a collapsing hive. “Sounds like a professional.”

“Yeah.” His eyes darkened. “This is going to be bad. Real bad.”

People were shouting. Dragon shadows swept across the walls as wings passed overhead with riders scouring the skies, no doubt, searching for a ghost with blood on their hands.

Tension crackled like storm energy through the courtyard, and even Kaelith shifted restlessly behind me, her tail twitching in a slow, serpentine arc.

“This wasn’t just murder,” I whispered to no one in particular. “This was a message.”

Jax didn’t argue. He didn’t have to.

The kingdom was fracturing, and we had just witnessed the first cut.

A low horn blared. Not the usual rally or warning cry. This one was different. Ominous. Final.

Kaelith’s head snapped up at the sound, wings flaring slightly behind her. Across the Ascension Grounds, every conversation died, as if the very air had been cut in half.

Then Theron stormed onto the high stone balcony overlooking us, crimson cloak billowing behind him like he meant to step into battle rather than deliver a speech.

Beside him, Major Kaler moved with stiff precision, lean fingers brushing the prince regent’s arm before leaning in close to whisper something against his ear.

Theron’s chin lifted a fraction.

And then his voice boomed over the crowd with a power that didn’t belong to him.

“My bride was murdered!”

The words cracked through the open courtyard, reverberating off the tower walls. A few riders flinched. Kaelith gave a low, rumbling hiss beside me.

He doesn’t have magic like that, I realized. But of course… Kaler did. The major was a Soundcaster, or his shadow blade magic created something close to it. Whatever spell he cast, it made Theron’s fury sound as if he were standing right in front of each of us.

“Lady Belana,” Theron continued, “was more than a noble. She was a symbol of unity between our kingdoms. Her death is not just a tragedy, it is an act of war against the crown, and I will see it avenged.”

He gripped the balcony railing like he meant to snap it. “The perpetrators will be found. Tried. Executed. Anyone aiding them will share their fate.”

His voice cracked slightly. Real grief? Or the performance of a lifetime?

Theron drew a breath, steadied. “This betrayal will not go unanswered. Let all hear me now… Warriath does not forgive treason.”

The crowd was silent. Even the dragons seemed to listen.

I hated to admit it, but he sounded…genuine. Angry. Raw.

And then she stepped into the light.

Inderia.

Her silken gown fluttered like blood-soaked snow as she glided across the balcony. Her expression was carved from mourning; lips parted in some soft lamentation. She reached Theron without hesitation and slipped her hand around his arm with a gentle possessiveness that turned my stomach.

She tilted her face up to his, the perfect image of a grieving companion offering strength.

Calculated. Every motion was deliberate. She was playing the grieving friend. While I was unsure about Theron’s grief. I was sure of hers. She didn’t care about anyone but herself and would use this to her advantage.

And Theron didn’t move away.

He let her touch him. Let her stay.

Maybe he is grieving, I thought bitterly.

Every guild across the Ascension Grounds had stilled.

Heads tilted up, breath held. No one spoke.

Not Warborn. Not Crownwatch. Even Iron Fang, usually the loudest in their disdain, stood frozen in the shadow of Theron’s declaration.

The chaos had fractured and fallen silent beneath his grief, or the performance of it.

His gaze swept over us all, but it landed, pointed and sharp, on Zander.

“My siblings have forsaken this kingdom,” Theron thundered.

His voice still echoed unnaturally through the grounds, amplified by whatever spell Major Kaler continued to hold.

“Dorian is away, as always. Unreachable in our time of need. And Zander—” his jaw tightened, “—prioritized the life of a commoner over that of my bride.”

A ripple moved through the crowd.

“He is hereby stripped of the title of Guild Commander,” Theron continued. “That honor will fall to Major Kaler, who has proven his loyalty and competence.”

My heart lurched. He’s serious.

“It was my error to believe my brothers would ever place the safety of this castle above their own selfish desires. And now, Lady Belana has paid the price for that misjudgment.”

The last words fell like the swing of a guillotine.

I turned to Zander, my voice barely above a breath. “He’s blaming you?”

Zander’s lips twisted in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “No. He never wanted me as Guild Commander. That was just a play to control Hein and Kaelith. He should’ve known dragons don’t give a damn about titles.”

My throat tightened. “He really did care about Lady Belana.”

Zander shrugged, dark eyes flat. “He cared that she was considered the most beautiful woman on the continent. He didn’t seem to mind that she had the personality of a viper.”

My gaze drifted to Inderia’s pale hand still looped through Theron’s arm, and a chill threaded down my spine. One viper gone. Another ready to strike.

And Theron? He stared down at his court like a man who’d already chosen which parts of it to burn.

The tension hadn’t faded, it only coiled tighter, wrapping around the spines of every rider, every dragon, every guild member who still stood rooted to the Ascension Grounds.

Theron looked ready to continue, voice still heavy with condemnation, when the side doors to the balcony burst open and a breathless court courier stumbled through.

He whispered something too low for us to hear, clutching a sealed parchment.

Theron snatched it with a jerk of his wrist, broke the seal, and scanned it. His expression didn’t change, but the air did. It grew heavier, sharper.

He turned back to the crowd like a man possessed. “I have received confirmation,” he said, voice once again booming across the grounds, “that the Order is responsible for Lady Belana’s death.”

A collective gasp. Then a hundred heads turned to look at me.

But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t blink.

Cyran if you did this… you’re on your own.

I may not have liked Lady Belana, most days I couldn’t stand the way she smirked like she owned every man in the room, but she was a figurehead. A puppet draped in silks. She had no real political pull, no power over dragons or crowns. Whoever killed her… they weren’t trying to silence her.

They wanted to hurt Theron.

The prince regent’s eyes locked on mine, and in them, I saw no grief—only opportunity.

“If he does not take responsibility for his actions…” Theron said slowly, deliberately, “then his daughter will.”

Kaelith’s roar tore through the air above us.

Without warning, a spiral of gold flame exploded across the courtyard, arching through the clouds like a god’s judgment. It streaked toward the balcony with violent precision—not to hit, but to warn.

Stone cracked. Heat shimmered.

Guards ducked. Nobles screamed. Theron stumbled back, his cloak catching a spark before Kaler doused it with a flick of power.

Kaelith roared behind me with a seismic boom, wings half-flared, her tail lashing like a whip of lightning.

She didn’t speak, but the message was clear in the guttural snarl that rattled the bones of the fortress.

Threaten me again… and your kingdom burns.

Major Kaler leaned in close to Theron, whispering something behind the veil of a raised hand. Whatever he said made Theron pause, his expression tightening, not with grief this time, but frustration.

A breathless beat of silence passed.

Then Theron straightened and turned back to the crowd. His voice was quieter now, but no less dangerous.

“The major has assured me,” he said, “that both my youngest brother and Ashlyn Rebec will take responsibility for uncovering the truth. They will bring the assassin to me.”

My pulse throbbed in my ears, but I didn’t look away.

“Family ties,” Theron continued, gaze flicking to me like a challenge, “will be irrelevant once Lady Belana’s killer lays at my feet.”

Inderia shifted beside him, the perfect image of mourning, and placed a gloved hand on his arm. Together, they turned and disappeared through the arched doorway at the back of the balcony, their cloaks trailing like blood in the wind.

I exhaled slowly. “Did you tell Major Kaler that we would bring in my father? I have no idea if he is really behind this.”

Zander didn’t answer right away. His jaw worked as he stared after his brother, then finally shook his head. “No. Hein told Mysan to pass a message to his rider. One that included a threat about your safety. I don’t think Theron wants to know what it’s like to die from dragon fire.”

My brow lifted. “And Mysan was more eloquent?”

Zander huffed a dry laugh. “Hein said, We’ll find the bastard. And if Theron moves against Ashe, then he will burn. Mysan translated it into something that wouldn’t get him arrested.”

“So now we’re in charge of finding the assassin.”

“Seems that way.”

“And if that assassin is my father?”

Zander looked at me then, eyes steady and unreadable.

“Then he’ll be beheaded on these very grounds.”

His voice didn’t waver.

And Kaelith didn’t disagree.

I felt the shift in the air before I saw them.

Kaelith’s head lifted, nostrils flaring as shadows swept across the Ascension Grounds, familiar ones. The Lowborn Squad circled overhead, their dragons banking tight above the courtyard, scanning like predators on patrol.

Where the hell have they been?

They hadn’t been here during Theron’s speech. During the assassination. During the fury.

We stepped aside instinctively, giving them room as the dragons descended one by one in practiced, fluid movements. Dust flared. Wind rushed. The moment Luthias’ Clubtail touched down with a thud of armored scales, I spotted Teren already unstrapping his harness.

He slid off the saddle with a grace only dragons could gift and landed in a half-crouch. Then he stood, raking a hand through his windblown hair and eyeing the grounds as if we’d just lost a battle.

“Why does this place look like a bomb went off?” he asked flatly.

“Because it did,” I said, brushing soot off my sleeve. “Just a political one.”

Teren’s brow arched. “Do I want to know?”

I crossed my arms. “That depends. Where the hell were you?”