Chapter 7 #2
He escorted me through the castle’s gilded corridors, past guards and marble archways that glittered with candlelight. The dining hall doors loomed ahead, open just enough to reveal a flickering chandelier and too many watching eyes.
The moment we stepped inside, silence rippled across the room like a dropped stone in still water.
Every head turned. Every eye fell on us.
On me.
Inderia, seated like a porcelain statue to the left of Theron, went stiff, her hand tightening around the stem of her goblet. Her gaze slid down my gown with all the warmth of a blade unsheathed. I felt her fury before she ever moved.
But it was Theron who stood with a smile too smooth to be real.
“Zander,” he said, voice echoing through the room with forced charm, “so good of you to support me this evening.”
His eyes found me next, drifting slowly over the crystals at my neckline, the curve of silk at my hips, the very air I dared to breathe beside his brother.
“Despite your… choice of companion.”
Zander didn’t respond.
I didn’t need him to.
We took our seats as Theron motioned, his eyes still raking over me like I was a curiosity instead of a threat.
He launched into a speech before anyone could even take a bite. Droning on about Warriath’s strength, the legacy of the crown, the importance of unity in these uncertain times.
Not once did he mention the riders.
Not the dragons.
Not the sects working against him.
Not the fractured guilds barely holding this continent together.
I picked at the food in front of me, something glazed and far too delicate, but couldn’t eat. Every time I lifted my fork, Theron’s voice smothered the room again. I’d hoped to speak with the others. To ask questions. To investigate.
But Theron never gave us a chance.
When the final toast was made, he stood and smiled again. “You may all go.”
Just like that. No mingling. No conversations. No diplomacy.
Just his voice. His stage. His control.
We left with the others, filing into the corridor where the chill air kissed my bare shoulders like relief.
I turned to Zander as we walked. “What the hell was that?”
He exhaled. “I don’t know. But it was deliberate. He didn’t want us to mingle.”
My jaw clenched. “He didn’t expect me to attend.”
Zander glanced at me sideways, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “You make it sound like he’s afraid of you.”
I held his gaze.
And for a moment, even he looked unsure.
“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”
Cordelle caught up to us as we left the hall, his steps quick and eyes brighter than usual.
“Where were you?” I asked, falling into step beside him. “I thought you had to attend the function.”
“I did,” he replied, brushing a hand through his strawberry-blond hair. “But lorekeepers record. We don’t interact with royal guests. I was behind the velvet curtain, taking notes.”
I grunted, still feeling Theron’s performative monologue on my shoulders. “Convenient.”
Zander gave a faint smirk as we reached his room. I turned to Cordelle. “Wait for me.”
He nodded, leaning against the cool stone of the corridor while I stepped inside.
I peeled out of the gown carefully, fingers trembling from more than the corset.
Something in the air still felt off. Zander’s hands brushed mine as he helped with the final ties, warm and steady. I quickly donned my armor.
“I’ll see you soon,” I whispered against his mouth, pressing a kiss to his lips before slipping out the door.
Cordelle and I exited the castle quietly, boots clicking across the darkened stone of the Ascension Grounds. The wind had picked up, cool and laced with ash from the earlier fire.
“So what did you hear behind that curtain?” I asked.
He opened his mouth to answer—
And a low, guttural growl tore through the night.
We stopped cold.
I turned and froze.
A Blood Fae stood behind us, tall and impossibly still, its eyes gleaming like molten pitch. The skin around its jaw was dark and cracked like cooled obsidian; its claws curved and wet with something I didn’t want to think about.
“How did it get past the wards?” Cordelle whispered, voice trembling.
“They’re failing,” I answered, ice sliding through my veins.
“What?”
It lunged.
I shoved Cordelle aside just in time as the fae’s sword slashed through the space where he’d been standing. My blade was out before I took my next breath, the edge sparking against its blade as I parried the first strike.
Cordelle raised a warding shield, but it flickered weakly. The Blood Fae twisted around me, moving like smoke and shadow, striking hard and fast. We traded blows, but it was faster than it should’ve been, its body pulsing with dark, old magic.
Just as it stepped back for a killing strike, a roar shook the ground.
Zola plummeted from the sky, her massive silver form blazing in the moonlight.
She landed hard behind the Blood Fae, wings flared wide and mouth already open.
The fire was instant, white-hot and blinding.
The fae didn’t even scream.
It was gone before its body hit the stone.
I turned, panting, but my relief was short-lived.
Cordelle had slumped to the ground, one arm clutching his side.
Blood.
“Cordelle!”
I rushed to him, just as a scream tore across the grounds.
“CORDELLE!”
Ferrula.
She sprinted toward us, eyes wild, her voice ragged as she dropped beside him and cradled his face in her hands, shouting his name again and again as if willing him to stay conscious.
And for the first time tonight, I felt true fear settle in my bones.
The wards had failed.
Meri’s footsteps pounded across the Ascension Grounds, her healer’s robes flying behind her like wings as she sprinted toward us—toward Cordelle, who lay bloodied and pale in my lap. “I sensed his pain.”
But before she could reach him, two castle guards stepped into her path, swords half-drawn.
“That’s close enough,” one said, voice clipped, eyes flicking from her to the prone form behind Ferrula. “We need express approval for any healing on Thrall Squad members.”
Meri skidded to a stop, fury etched in every line of her face. “Those orders were rescinded. You want to check your facts or let someone die while you play politics?”
“Then get your superior to sign off,” the second guard said, unmoved. “No contact without permission.”
Ferrula’s eyes focused on them, the kind of look that promised death.
In one fluid motion, her blade slid free from its sheath and came to rest against the throat of the nearest guard.
Her green eyes blazed, her voice as cold and final as steel.
“If you don’t let her through, I will behead you and deal with the fallout later.”
The first guard hesitated.
The second paled.
Even he wasn’t stupid enough to take on a Dirian warrior.
The guard stepped back.
Meri didn’t wait for permission.
She dropped beside Cordelle, hands glowing as she pressed them to his side. Magic surged from her palms—warm, golden, and tinged with the faint blue shimmer of internal stitching. Cordelle gasped, his back arching before his breath evened out again.
I exhaled, only then realizing I’d been holding it.
Ferrula stood over them like a fortress of flesh and steel, her shoulders heaving with fury and something deeper—something fragile.
Jax moved to her side without a word, placing a hand on her waist and gently pulling her back.
She didn’t resist.
She let him.
And for a moment, in all the chaos, that silence was the loudest thing in the world.