Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
The stone was slick with recent rain, the shadows drawn long by the moon behind me. I could feel Kaelith’s distant rumble of awareness at the edge of my mind, but she was asleep with the rest of the horde.
He stepped out from the shadows with the casual grace of a man who’d killed before, and didn’t need to rush to do it again.
His rapier gleamed, polished to a mirror shine, and his stance was light on his feet. Not sloppy. Not uncertain. Experienced. He had made those boot sounds on purpose.
His face bore the years of war—creased skin, a thick scar carved from his jaw to temple, and eyes like flint. He moved like someone who had danced with death more times than he could count… and won.
He circled me with quiet patience, his blade making lazy arcs in the air.
I drew my own rapier, the metal singing as it cleared the scabbard. My stance settled instinctively, years of drills and combat clicking into place like muscle memory.
He smiled. A grin full of teeth, feral and amused.
“That’s a nice blade,” he said, voice gravel rough. “Might take it from you.”
“You’ll have to kill me first,” I replied coldly.
He chuckled, dark and low. “That’s the problem, ain’t it?”
He lunged.
A feint—light, testing. The edge of his blade flicked just shy of my shoulder. I parried, pivoted, our weapons hissing as they met.
He stepped back.
Another lunge, this one toward my thigh, but I sidestepped before steel could bite flesh.
He was fast. But not trying to land a fatal strike.
“At least for me,” he murmured, straightening. “The Blood King wants you alive.”
I stilled for a breath, heart hammering in my chest.
We began to circle again, boots scuffing on the slick cobblestones, blades catching the fading light.
I narrowed my gaze. “Do you work for the Order?”
He snorted. “The Order?” His tone was mocking. “They’re not the only power in the kingdoms, girl.”
That chilled me more than the steel in his hand.
Because if the Order wasn’t behind this—
Who the hell was?
He circled me again, each step slow and deliberate, his rapier held with a relaxed confidence that made my stomach tighten.
“You have two choices, white-hair,” he said, voice low and sharp. “You can join us…” His blade twitched forward, aimed at my heart. “Or you can die.”
The chill that swept down my spine had nothing to do with fear.
And everything to do with fury.
Because that roar, that roar, came from the isle.
Kaelith.
Her rage blasted into my mind like fire breaking through steel, hot and wild. Her fury wasn’t distant anymore. She was close.
Coming.
“I think you may want to reconsider that approach,” I said, my lips curling into a tight smile. “You’ve got less than a minute before my dragon barbecues your sorry ass.”
He sneered, the scar on his face twisting. “Your dragon doesn’t scare me. I could kill you and be gone in five seconds flat.”
I didn’t respond.
We both lunged at the same time, steel clashing with a ringing cry that shattered the quiet. His footwork was fast, aggressive—every movement sharp, efficient. But he wasn’t used to someone who could read pressure through a bond.
I moved with Kaelith’s fury thrumming through my veins.
He feinted high, twisted low. I spun, parried, stepped back to avoid the slice meant for my ribs. His blade grazed the edge of my arm, but I kept my stance, teeth clenched, refusing to give ground.
“You’re quick,” he muttered, breath ragged. “Shame.”
A growl erupted around me, but I knew it wasn’t Kaelith.
The sound split the air.
The guttural, primal sound rolled across the courtyard like thunder made of bone and ash, vibrating through the stone beneath our feet.
The assassin paused.
I took one step back.
He turned just enough to see the shadows begin to shift—air thickening, the heat rising like a breath before the flame.
Siergen had arrived. And his eyes held nothing but vengeance.
He moved from the shadows like he’d been born from them, one second nothing but darkness, the next, five tons of snarling menace cloaked in scales the color of dried blood.
His body was low to the ground, muscles coiled tight, the crimson sheen of his hide shimmering like oil in torchlight.
His golden eyes locked on the assassin, and his growl deepened, the threat made flesh.
I had no idea how he’d hidden so well, but that was Siergen, deadly and theatrical, the perfect predator.
The assassin stepped back, hands rising slowly.
“I was not sent to kill you,” he said quickly. “Only to assess your skills… and offer you amnesty.”
Siergen advanced anyway, another growl rolling from deep in his chest, the kind that spoke of hunger and old grudges.
“Siergen, wait!” I snapped, stepping in front of the assassin. “I want to know who sent him. He’s not part of the Order.”
Siergen’s clawed foot dragged across the stone as he halted, just barely. He huffed, hot air steaming past me like a warning.
“Talk,” I demanded, turning on the assassin, who was now slowly lowering his hands.
He sheathed his rapier with smooth, deliberate movements.
“My name is Rubin,” he said, with no hint of shame in his voice. “I am a member of the Crimson Sigil.”
I frowned. “What the hell is that?”
He tilted his head, calm now that Siergen wasn’t about to rip him apart. “We’re a collective of warriors, spies, and tacticians. We aim to eradicate magic in humans, by any means necessary.”
Siergen snarled behind me. I didn’t stop him this time, I wanted Rubin to feel every breath of that threat.
“And you think I’m going to help you?” I asked coldly.
“You are the tool we need,” he said without flinching. “The anomaly. Proof that fae blood can be turned against its own. Your sacrifice could save humanity.”
“I’m not a tool,” I hissed.
But his expression didn’t change.
“Maybe not now,” Rubin said softly, “but when the kingdoms burn… you’ll see. All magic is a disease. And you, Ashlyn, may be the only one strong enough to end it.”
I sneered at him, the blood still pumping hot from the fight, my blade gripped tight at my side.
“What’s to stop me from killing you right now?”
Rubin shrugged, unbothered, as if he hadn’t just nearly died at my feet. “We have spies everywhere. If I die, another will come for you. Killing me only hastens the next.”
Arrogant bastard.
“If you want magic to perish,” I snapped, “why help the Blood Fae? They are magic.”
“They are already dying,” he said with maddening calm. “Without access to the dragons’ eggs, their numbers have stagnated. We will use them. And when they’ve served their purpose—” he flicked imaginary dust from his glove, “—we’ll discard them.”
“You’re deluded.” My voice was sharp now, rising. “They’ll kill you the moment they get what they want.”
His smile widened. “We are aware. But for now, our goals align. It is a temporary alliance, nothing more.”
Ask him, Siergen’s voice whispered through my mind, low and coiled with rage, if he’s certain his people are watching.
I didn’t need to ask why.
“Are you sure your spies are watching this little meeting?” I asked, my voice flat.
Rubin nodded once. “At least four. Two are listening to every word as we speak.”
Siergen’s approval was immediate and as dark as a thunderclap. Good.
Then he lunged forward.
I stumbled back with a shout, thrown off balance as the massive wall of muscle and fury surged past me. His mouth opened wide, throat glowing from within. I saw the shift, his neck expanding, a deep-orange light bleeding through the scales.
“No!” I screamed—
But it was too late.
Flame erupted before me in a violent burst of heat and fury, engulfing Rubin in a flash of heat and ash, the night exploding into light and death.