Chapter Seventy-Three
A Realm on Fire
The fire would not wait for thrones to decide.
Viktor walked beneath the banner of House Draekenra—a silver snake with a sword in its mouth, the hilt wrapped in twisted vines.
In the center of Amethyst was a quiet courtyard with large windows cut into the stone, paned with leaded glass. There stood a fig tree, buds swelling on the stems.
Xavien stood beside it, bending a branch.
“Sent to me from Eilles,” he said to Viktor, his thumb brushing a waxy leaf. “Its roots crave the dark earth of the Midnight Isle… yet somehow on this rock, it thrives.”
The branch snapped when he released it.
“You are Eillish, yes.”
He met Viktor’s gaze.
“But you are no son of Elváliev.”
The air shifted.
Cold.
Heavy.
Viktor moved closer, shoulder to shoulder.
“I am Aerdanian, my lord.”
The words carried iron.
Xavien smiled darkly, angling his chin so he could look down.
Viktor didn’t move.
Let him try.
“You have done well for yourself, High-Captain…”
Xavien’s voice dropped low.
“Amerei tempts even me… and I’ve had the finest of Gearíya for years.”
Heat licked Viktor’s spine, but his jaw stayed locked.
Say her name again, and I’ll bleed you where you stand—
Xavien circled him.
“It took me no time to figure out which of you has plucked her.”
The words landed like an arrow straight through his ribs.
He knows.
“I must thank you though…” Xavien grinned. “…for taking care of the hard part for me.” He stopped squarely in front of Viktor. “I hate it when the maidens cry.”
His eyes darkened. His voice rose.
“Now I can unleash the elven deviant waiting to erupt out of that halfling’s bosom.”
The words clawed at Viktor’s restraint, tore at it—but still he did not move. He let the silence stretch, let it choke. His ice-blue eyes pinned the prince like a blade point pressed to the throat.
“Ah,” Xavien breathed. “You love her.”
Viktor did not answer. He could not. The truth was a fire in his blood, too fierce to name, too dangerous to admit. His silence was the only shield he had left.
Xavien’s voice dipped to a whisper, cutting.
“But you saw it, too. The look on her face when she first beheld me. She was… relieved.”
He raised his chin.
“You see, I was but seventeen when my father bound me to the princess of Gearíya.”
His mouth curved wicked.
“I am not so much older than you, High-Captain.”
Viktor broke his stare, shifting only to the window ahead. The prisms warped his reflection, but he could feel Amerei beyond, watching him.
She cannot see me break. Not here. Not for him.
Xavien’s tone turned venomous.
“I will have her. She will be my queen, and we will rule the realm. Amerei’s blood may be tainted, but I will see the next heir born clean.”
Her children will be human, princeling. And they will be mine.
Xavien moved closer, his shoulder brushing Viktor’s.
“She didn’t tremble at my touch, Viktor. I can still feel the weight of her hand upon my chest.”
Viktor’s fists clenched behind his back, leather groaning.
Fury coiled, begging release.
But he did not yield it.
Not yet.
His gaze fixed on the glass, fixed on Amerei’s unseen heartbeat, then shifted back to Xavien with the weight of a gauntlet thrown.
“Then she is already a queen.”
His breath iced. A shadow stirred at the edges of him, darker than any crown, any throne.
“She won your allegiance with my love still inside her.”
The air cracked.
The ground itself seemed to brace, as if the courtyard knew the storm had finally broken.
Xavien’s jaw ticked. The beads upon his back rattled, his head snapping to the window for a breath.
He straightened, posturing.
“If you will not go quietly, Ruakite… then we must come to some sort of an agreement.”
Viktor’s mouth lifted at the corners, humorless.
“You’re quite confident the Senate will give you a divorcement.”
“My father cannot live forever, Viktor. His breath barely fills his lungs now.”
Xavien stepped into his gaze, golden strands falling over his eyes.
“And when I am king, I will do as I please and take what I please and bed whomever I please.”
Viktor finally looked at him. Cold.
His fingers flexed inside his gloves.
“Then today you will submit to my terms.”
His words struck sharp as ice.
“For you are not king yet.”
Xavien’s stare hardened, unreadable iron.
Viktor pressed forward, each syllable honed.
“You will cease all courting until Amerei wins Senate support—and commands the Royal Army. War is coming for us all, Xavien. Your delusions of grandeur will cripple your reign before it even begins.”
“You want me to wait until she has secured the throne of Casqadia?” Xavien laughed softly. “Why would I do that?”
Viktor hooked his fingers into the collar of his uniform and jerked it open, baring the scars of fire across his chest.
“Because if you take her now, you’ll fight this war alone.”
Xavien’s gaze flicked to the ruin of skin. The faintest frown shadowed his lips.
Viktor stepped toward him, Endowment rising hot in his chest.
“And when the gods are conjured against you—tell me, who will you crawl to then?”
His vision sparked. He felt his eyes alight.
“What a way to begin your reign. King of a realm on fire.”
Xavien stilled. Something throbbed beneath that ebony tunic—something more than fear. His hand betrayed him, flicking rapid at his side.
Viktor did not move.
He only watched as the prince lifted his chin toward the archway.
“The Senate is waiting.”