Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
The dragons landed hard, their wings folding with a rustle of exhaustion and lingering adrenaline.
Kaelith’s scales shimmered with the intermittent moonlight, her side dipping slightly as I slid from the saddle.
I touched her gently, gratitude and apology wrapped in a single gesture, before unfastening the final strap.
As soon as the saddle hit the ground, Kaelith surged upward with a beat of her wings and was gone, vanishing into the morning haze like a living shadow. Hein and the others followed, slipping back into the clouds one by one. The air felt emptier without them.
We moved toward the rails, arms heavy as we slung our saddles onto them. The failure of the mission still clogged my chest, dragging behind my ribs like a second skin. My fingers were still tingling from the magic I’d forced through them.
Then I saw him—
A man in plain clothes, moving with the purposeful silence of someone who wasn’t meant to be seen. He stepped up to Zander and leaned in, whispering low enough that I couldn’t catch the words.
Zander’s brows tightened for only a breath before he nodded, and the man disappeared as quickly as he came.
But Zander turned sharply, eyes locking on Remy like a blade finding its target.
“Remy,” he said, his voice like ice. “Tell me how you got my father to approve you taking Ashlyn into the vault?”
Remy didn’t flinch. He simply finished securing the last strap of Katama’s saddle after placing it on the rail with deliberate care. “It’s none of your business.”
I froze mid-motion, a cold knot forming in my chest.
“The king knew you took me in?”
Remy’s gaze met mine then, unwavering.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Nobody enters the vault without permission.”
The knot twisted tighter.
“How did you get him to agree?” I asked, my voice barely louder than a breath.
His expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Easily,” he said. “He’s ordered me to watch you at all times.”
The world stilled.
Zander swore softly beside me.
And my stomach dropped straight into the stone beneath my feet.
I stared at him, the reality of his words sinking in like a stone dropped in deep water.
He’s ordered me to watch you at all times.
I folded my arms, grounding myself before my voice came out tight. “Why?” I asked. “Why does the king want me monitored so closely?”
Remy didn’t answer right away. His jaw worked like he was trying to find the least destructive version of the truth. In the end, he didn’t soften it.
“He needs the Virelith Crystal,” he said. “The future of the continent depends on it.”
“We’re already looking for it,” I snapped, stepping closer. “You think I don’t understand the stakes?”
“I know you do,” he said quickly, but his tone had that edge again, that buried urgency I’d always hated. “But the king believes you’re the key. That without you, no one will find it.”
“And what? You think I’m going to hand it over to the Blood Fae?”
His mouth parted, and for the first time in years, Remy actually looked shocked. Not angry. Not calculating. Shocked.
“What?” he breathed. “No.”
I let the silence fall between us, and when he didn’t rush to correct me, I took another step forward, my voice low and bitter.
“Yes, you do. That’s exactly what you think. That I’ll be manipulated into it, or tricked, or corrupted. That somehow, I’ll become the thing you have to stop. Just like before.”
He opened his mouth again, but I cut him off.
“You’re using me. Again.”
The words landed like a slap.
Remy’s mouth twisted like the words hurt before they even left his tongue. “I’m not using you, Ashlyn.”
I laughed, cold and sharp. “No? Then what would you call it? You used me back in the Order to get close to my father. Don’t pretend it wasn’t calculated.”
His shoulders stiffened. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It was exactly like that,” I hissed. “You played the quiet assassin. You earned his trust, you earned mine. And the whole time, you were on a mission. I was just part of the strategy.”
Remy’s face darkened. “I didn’t expect to fall for you. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“But it did,” I snapped. “And then you left me like it hadn’t. Not a word. Not even a lie to hold on to.”
He took a step forward, voice rising. “You don’t think it killed me to leave? I was under orders! I had a target, I had a mission—”
“And now here you are,” I cut in, breath sharp, “back in my life, following more orders. This time it’s the king. And what am I now? A key to a magical weapon? A means to an end? You only ever show up when someone wants to use me.”
His jaw clenched, fists curling at his sides. “I love you.”
“You don’t get to say that!” My voice cracked. “Not when it’s always on someone else’s terms. Not when you’re always hiding something.”
The air between us pulsed with heat, unspoken magic humming just under my skin.
Then Zander’s voice cut through it like a knife.
“Remy,” he said sharply, stepping between us. “Did you get that order from the king directly?”
The question hung there, cold and pointed.
Remy didn’t answer right away.
And suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Remy’s jaw was set tight, his shoulders squared, but his voice was hard. “It was a written message. Carried by the royal courier. It bore the king’s personal seal.”
Zander’s expression didn’t shift, but I saw the tic in his cheek. “My father is too far gone to issue a coherent order.”
Remy didn’t back down. “It was pretty detailed for someone losing their mind. Instructions, locations, maps... It wasn’t the rantings of a madman.”
Zander narrowed his eyes. “And how do you return information?”
“I send it via the king’s personal courier,” Remy replied. “He’s been under direct orders to retrieve my reports.”
That was all Zander needed to hear. His voice turned clipped, commanding. “Then summon him. Write a message. Tell him we attempted to survey the Blood Isle but failed. Say we wanted to scout the enemy’s defenses.”
Remy arched a brow but said nothing, only glancing toward the rest of my squad.
“Send them to their rooms,” he said. “We’ll head to mine.”
I turned to Thrall Squad. “Jax. Take them back to the barracks.”
Jax didn’t move at first, his gaze hard and locked on Remy like he expected this entire thing to be a trap. But after a long moment, he gave me a stiff nod, grabbing Ferrula by the elbow and muttering for the others to follow. They all looked reluctant, but obeyed.
I watched them go, the back of Jax’s head stiff with tension until they disappeared into the shadows of the yard.
Then the three of us turned toward the castle.
The entrance doors loomed ahead, tall and ornate, carved with dragons and flame and the history of a crown that now sat too heavily on a crumbling king.
Guards gave us a curious glance but didn’t stop us.
Remy walked ahead like he belonged, because he did, and I fell into step between him and Zander as we passed into the dimly lit halls.
Stone arches curved above us. The scent of parchment and steel hung in the air. Footsteps echoed against polished floors as we moved deeper into the heart of the palace.
We moved through the castle’s winding halls, the silence between us filled with many unspoken things. The tension clung to me like mist, and I couldn’t decide if it was mine or theirs, as if I were waiting for another fight or a revelation I didn’t want.
Remy’s room was on the second floor, above the battlements and higher than Zander’s private chambers.
Normally, that placement alone meant something, status, influence, proximity to power.
The closer you were to the throne, the higher your room.
Apparently, Remy had climbed more than one kind of ladder.
When he opened the door, I felt like I’d stepped into another world.
The space was opulent, every corner of it steeped in luxury.
A massive carved bed dominated the center, the headboard etched with the symbol of the Flame Guard, gilded and polished.
Rich crimson and black drapery pooled around the arched windows, casting the room in warm shadows.
A silver-plated armor stand gleamed in the corner, and the fireplace burned low, scented with some expensive incense I didn’t recognize but associated with Remy instantly.
I blinked at the contrast, it was a far cry from the cramped, stone-cold barracks of the Order where we used to steal moments in the dark and whisper plans we barely understood.
Zander glanced around the room with mild disdain but said nothing.
Remy crossed to a side desk near the balcony, where a neat stack of parchment and a heavy dragon-headed quill sat waiting. He dropped into the chair and began writing, the sharp strokes of ink loud in the quiet.
When he finished, he folded the parchment with practiced precision, sealed it with wax, and pressed his insignia into the stamp without hesitation.
Then he opened the door and spoke to the guard outside. “Fetch the king’s courier. Now.”
The guard saluted and vanished down the hallway.
Remy closed the door and turned back to us, his expression unreadable.
I crossed my arms. “What do we do once the courier has the message?”
Remy and Zander responded at the exact same time.
“We see where he takes it.”
Their voices overlapped perfectly, the same grim certainty in both.
I looked between them.
This was about who was giving the orders… and if the king was even one of them.
The private courier returned not long after the guard disappeared, his boots barely making a sound on the stone floor.
He entered the room with a bow so fluid it seemed more like muscle memory than respect.
His eyes flicked between the three of us, lingering a second too long on me before settling on Remy.
His fingers twitched as Remy handed him the sealed message, just a flicker, like a nervous tic he was trained to hide. But I saw it. So did Zander.
Without a word, the courier turned and left, the wax still warm beneath his gloved hand.
We followed immediately, stepping into the corridor with silent urgency. Zander moved like a shadow, his eyes narrowing on the man ahead.
“I can blur my image,” he said under his breath. “Dark Fire can muffle light, make me blend in.”
Before I could respond, he was gone, still present, but faint, like he’d become part of the torchlight itself. His steps made no sound, and his outline flickered at the edges, like heat over stone.
The courier moved swiftly down the halls, glancing back once near the stairwell. We all froze.
Zander vanished entirely.
My breath caught.
The courier hesitated, but finding nothing, he continued on, his pace just slightly faster. He moved through the inner gates, past the east corridor, and out the main arch of the castle, descending into the stone courtyard that connected to the Ascension Grounds.
As soon as he cleared the last stair, we moved.
Fast. Silent.
We crossed the cobbled stones quickly and silently. Remy caught up first, his hand snapping around the man’s arm and jerking him to a stop.
The courier’s eyes widened. “What is the meaning of this?”
Remy’s expression shifted, cold, calm, dangerous.
“I’ll ask the questions now.” That tone, low and sharp, was the one I’d heard in the Order just before someone stopped breathing.
Remy pulled the courier to the corner of the courtyard where nobody could see us in the dark. He tightened his grip on the courier’s arm, his voice all frost and venom. “Who are you taking the correspondence to?”
The courier’s eyes darted between us, breath catching. “The king,” he said quickly. “Of course. I just—I have an errand first, a delivery—”
Remy smiled then, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was no warmth there, only the promise of pain.
“Sorry,” he said softly. “Couriers have to do their primary errand first. And in your case, that’s the king’s bidding.”
The courier shifted, the lie cracking in his throat. “It’s just a small delay—nothing important. A message to a steward. I’ll deliver the king’s letter immediately after, I swear.”
Remy’s expression didn’t change, but Zander stepped forward then, calm and terrifying in the way only royalty can be when they’ve lost their patience.
“Enough,” Zander said coldly.
He held out his hands, and Dark Fire erupted from his palms in a sweeping hiss of smoke and flame. The magic curled around his fingers like a living shadow, licking up his arms and illuminating the fury beneath his skin. But his clothes didn’t burn. Not even a thread caught fire.
The flames crept higher, spreading across his chest and shoulders until he was a silhouette of fire and death, standing barely a foot from the trembling man.
“You will answer my questions,” Zander growled, “or burn for eternity.”
The Dark Fire reached out, slow, deliberate, and close enough to sear the air near the courier’s face.
The man whimpered, knees shaking.
“I—I will tell you!” he gasped, his voice cracking.
Zander extinguished the fire.
He already had what he wanted.
The courier’s breath came in ragged bursts, his back pressed against the cold stone of the courtyard wall, eyes fixed on Zander’s arms. Where the Dark Flames had burned.
“I’m delivering the message to my handler,” he confessed, voice trembling. “My Blood Fae handler.”
Remy’s eyes narrowed into slits. “What do they want?”
The courier swallowed hard. “The same thing they’ve always wanted.”
Remy took a step forward, his voice slicing like a blade. “Which is?”
Zander’s voice boomed over his. “Answer him.”
The courier flinched, eyes darting between them before he finally spoke.
“To maintain the princes’ political influence. To deepen the kingdom’s division.”
Zander’s flames roared higher. “Which prince?”
The courier blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “All of them,” he admitted. “Including you. Anyone but the current king.”
My voice slipped out in the heavy silence. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, shaking his head. “They never say why. Only what. But the unsanctioned infiltration of the isle?” He glanced at the sealed note still clutched in his trembling hand. “That would sow more discord. Discredit the king. Deepen the cracks between the heirs.”
“He read the message?” I asked.
“He has too. The Blood Fae wouldn’t want him to deliver a message that was of no use to them. Not all correspondence is political.”
I turned back to the courier. “You’re saying,” I said slowly, every word tasting like ash, “that the Blood Fae are manipulating the throne of Warriath?”
The courier nodded once, sharply.
“Yes. They always have.”
A long silence settled between us like dust after a collapse.
Remy glanced over at Zander, his voice low but hollowed by the truth that had just been spoken aloud.
“And all the princes,” he said, “are pawns.”