Chapter 31 #2
Oh please, I thought, picking at the roasted pheasant on my plate.
The meal was extravagant, too extravagant for a kingdom at war, but the nobles didn’t seem to notice or care.
Zander shifted restlessly beside me, his expression unreadable, eyes flicking occasionally toward Theron as if he were calculating something.
Iron Fang sat with stony faces, barely touching their food, and across the table, Ferrula was still keeping one eye on the Dirian Duke.
Course after course arrived, steamed root vegetables, stuffed vine leaves, spiced lamb, a sorbet to cleanse the palate. Theron didn’t stop talking.
He droned on about legacy. Duty. The strength of Warriath’s throne. He praised Inderia’s family for their unwavering loyalty, praised Iron Fang for their tactical brilliance, and never once acknowledged the dragons or their riders.
By the time dessert was served, I was about to excuse myself for some air. Plates of honey cakes and tarts dusted with powdered sugar were placed delicately in front of each guest, including a pink-glazed slice for Cordelle.
The moment the server leaned in to place it before him, everything shifted.
In a blur, the server’s hand darted beneath his tunic and came back with a narrow blade, aimed straight for Cordelle’s chest.
“Cordy!” I screamed, but Riven was faster.
She stood from the table and kicked the server with enough force to send him sprawling into the dessert cart, sending silver platters crashing to the floor in a clatter of chaos.
Guards surged forward, swords half-drawn, but they hesitated, clearly unsure who the enemy was.
Ferrula leaped over her chair, putting herself between Cordelle and the attacker even as Cordy rolled to the floor, wide-eyed but unharmed.
Zander shoved me behind him as he stood, his own blade materializing from its sheath.
The would-be assassin scrambled up, slicing toward Riven, but she ducked and twisted, aiming a fist for his temple. He bolted for the door, staggering past stunned nobles.
“Stop him!” someone yelled, but Jax was already moving.
He chased the assassin out into the corridor, his heavy footfalls echoing in the hallway. The entire room held its breath as we waited, as if the very walls leaned in.
A moment later, Jax returned, his eyes dark with fury, a bloodied blade in his hand.
“He’s dead,” he said.
“What happened?” Zander asked, his voice low and lethal.
Jax exhaled. “I tried to take him alive. But he spat out some Vanari bullshit and bit down on a capsule. Poison. Was dead before he hit the ground.”
Riven let out a breath and looked at Cordelle. “You okay, kid?”
Cordy sat up from behind the table, still pale, but nodded. “I think… yeah.”
The banquet was over.
And whatever unity Theron had been preaching about moments before had crumbled like the shattered plates at our feet.
The room hadn’t fully recovered from the chaos of the attack when Theron shot to his feet, his chair scraping violently behind him.
“How did this happen?” His voice cracked through the air like a whip, shrill and furious. “He wasn’t one of my servers! I know every member of my staff—every name, every face.”
Zander crossed his arms beside me, his jaw clenched. “Apparently not.”
Before Theron could respond, Cade’s voice cut through the murmurs.
“You should ask her.” He pointed one arrogant finger across the room, straight at Ferrula.
She didn’t flinch. But her body tensed, like a blade being drawn.
“I’m sure I saw her let a man in through the side door.”
My heart lurched. No. He wouldn’t—
Theron seized the accusation like a vulture with a fresh kill. He turned to Ferrula, fire in his eyes, and thrust a finger toward her chest.
“Arrest her.”
The guards hesitated.
“You have no proof,” I said, stepping forward.
“She let him in,” Cade insisted, louder this time. “I saw her near the door. She did it just before we took our seats.”
“She was getting Jax some wine,” Riven growled, stepping between Ferrula and the encroaching guards. “We all saw her carry it, you snake.”
Zander moved next to her. “You’d accuse a decorated rider of attempted regicide on the word of someone who abandoned his own squad?”
Theron’s face twitched, but he barked again. “I said arrest her!”
Ferrula looked between us and then held up her hands. Calm. Controlled. But there was a flash of anger in her green eyes.
“I have nothing to hide.”
“No, but Cade does,” Jax said, stepping beside her now, his tone ice. “And if you touch her, I swear by the oath of my dragon, I’ll make sure the truth gets out.”
The guards looked between Theron and the small army forming around Ferrula.
Then Kaelith’s voice entered my mind. I’m coming. He will not take one of ours.
I won’t allow it either, I thought as my eyes locked on Cade. He didn’t smirk this time. He looked… unsettled.
Because Thrall Squad didn’t leave their own.
And Ferrula wasn’t alone.
The guards moved in, their hesitation gone with Theron’s barked order ringing in their ears.
But Jax didn’t hesitate either.
His fist cracked against the nearest guard’s jaw with a sound like splintering wood. The man dropped instantly, out cold before he hit the ground.
Gasps erupted around the banquet table. One of the nobles actually yelped.
Zander took a step forward, hands raised, trying to keep things from erupting further. But Ferrula’s voice stopped everything.
“Stand down,” she said.
We all turned to her. She wasn’t afraid. Not even a little. Her expression was calm, but her eyes blazed with something dangerous. Pride. Dignity.
“The truth will set me free,” she said, glancing at each of us in turn. Then her hand reached out and landed gently on Jax’s forearm. “Don’t make it worse.”
He was breathing hard, nostrils flared, but he stepped back at her touch, barely. Rage pulsed through him, quiet and hot. He wasn’t letting this go.
As the guards moved to flank Ferrula, Cade folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, as smug as a cat beside a tipped birdcage.
I took a step closer, my voice low and venomous.
“You’re a dead man, Cade.”
His smile didn’t falter, but the flicker of unease behind it told me he’d heard the promise in my tone. A storm was coming.
And he’d just painted a target on his back.