Chapter 51
Fifty-One
Lapis Lazuli
Graylen must’ve heard them coming, but not soon enough.
Belatedly, Adrian rouses from his sleep on the other side of the horses’ stall, the sound of him stammering his confusion the only indication that he’s still over there.
“What is this?” Adrian shouts.
A guard steps forward. “My king, we received news of your return.”
The guard’s eyes slide to us. I grip my dagger, and Graylen shifts closer to me.
“Reports came of the merchant’s daughter and the Snake being with you,” he spits out. “Looks like there was some truth to what the old farmer had to say.”
Shit. The farmer sold us out.
The guard takes a step toward us, his sword lifting slightly. The men behind him follow suit, their gazes set on us as they slowly fan out to fully block the only exit.
“Michael,” Adrian hisses. “They are not our enemy. Stand down.”
The guard—Michael—shakes his head slowly and says, “Sorry, Your Majesty, can’t do that. We’ve already been warned of their nature.”
Though disgust laces Michael’s voice, the small tremor in his sword gives away just how frightened he truly is.
“Enough,” Adrian snaps, his patience eviscerated within seconds. “How are you all here? What about the rebels?”
Michael’s head tilts, brows pulling together. “Rebels, my king?”
“The rebels that took the castle…” Adrian’s voice trails off as Michael’s expression grows more confused. His gaze shifts to me, likely thinking that we’re all liars for telling him the rebels took the castle.
“So the castle stands tall? Untouched?” Adrian pushes.
Michael nods, lips pursed as he eyes Adrian like he’s lost his mind.
I share a look with Graylen.
The last we heard was the reports of shadows swirling around the castle and the rebels that had taken it. Penyth’s council had suspected the Furies were behind the attack, but these soldiers seem genuinely confused, as though nothing was amiss.
Adrian presses for more answers, but my attention is pulled to the soldiers slowly shifting closer to Graylen and me.
“Evil, Penyth filth,” a man just to our left mutters.
Murmurs of agreement sound from the others, and Graylen lets out a low growl of warning.
“We can take them,” I send into Graylen’s mind. “I call the asshole that called us filth.”
Almost imperceptibly, Graylen tilts his head to the side. “As hot as that would be to watch you knock that fucker to the ground, we can’t. Stick to the plan; it’s our best way in. We can’t give Moros a reason to think we’re against them.”
I clench my jaw, knowing he’s right but hating it all the same. We’ll have to rely on Adrian to get us out of this, and I don’t like those odds.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Adrian placates, stepping out from the other side of the stall and positioning himself between us and the guards. “No one—” he looks at Michael, “—is killing anyone.” Then he looks at us.
“They’re manipulating them with their vile magic!” Michael spews, his face twisting. “For your safety, we can’t risk it.”
Adrian huffs, as if the notion of him being manipulated was appalling.
“Look at their ears,” Adrian snaps as he points to us.
“Human.” He takes a step toward us, and the guards stiffen, their eyes flicking from him to us.
“And don’t you think they would’ve used this supposed magic the second you stepped through those doors?
Why are they standing there—outnumbered and with only a simple blade in their hands? ”
The guards exchange glances amongst themselves.
“You know this man,” Adrian continues, gesturing to Graylen.
“Clarence, you and Graylen entered into the castle the same season.” He nods his head to a slender soldier to Michael’s left.
“And Toland, you were on duty for many of my meetings with Graylen while he advised me. Did he ever indicate support for anyone other than me and Crea?”
Another guard—this one in the back but towering over the others—hesitates, but shakes his head and grumbles, “No. Never.”
Adrian nods, but the soldiers don’t look fully convinced. Still, he’s already done far more than I thought he would.
What’s going through his mind about what we reported on the rebels taking the castle? Were they false reports, somehow—a traitor spreading rumors to cause chaos?
Adrian twists toward us, his eyes on Graylen. And the look in his gaze…
I still. I don’t like it.
Adrian’s brows pull together, silently mouthing, I’m sorry.
My muscles tense, and beside me, I feel Graylen do the same.
“Duke Wyman gave me a device for Amira,” Adrian begins slowly. “If it makes you all feel more comfortable, we have it with us. It stops any magical being from accessing their powers.”
Michael raises a brow. My stomach sinks.
“Say the word, and I’ll bring all of them to their knees.” The edge in Graylen’s words sends a shiver down my spine, spurring my confidence on.
“You agreed to wear it to prove you’re on our side.” Adrian nods and adds, “Isn’t that right, Lu?”
I tense at him using the nickname, but nod slowly.
The soldiers look at Michael expectantly. These soldiers should be bowing to their king, taking his word for it and listening to his command, but instead they push back—claiming we manipulated his mind to get him here.
Adrian’s eyes flare as they await Michael’s command instead of his. But he doesn’t stomp his feet and demand that he’s the king like I thought he would. Maybe Adrian does know how to play politics more than I thought.
“And the Snake?” a guard hisses, spit flying from his mouth.
I can feel a wave of heat radiating off of Graylen. He stands taller, lifting to his full height. The guard that spoke up flinches back, but stands his ground.
Adrian chuckles and says, “If you can get this thing around his neck, then be my guest.” He glances sideways at Graylen, a smirk on his face as he slips into the role of Adrian the King. “You all know how the Snake feels about doing something he doesn’t want to do.”
All of the soldiers shift, some shuffling their feet and others paling at the reminder of Graylen’s past.
“There’s twenty of you and one of him,” Adrian adds when no one speaks. “Are you afraid of one man taking down all of you—trained soldiers wielding the steel of the king’s army?”
I fight back a smirk. Graylen could send them to their miserable afterlife before they could even think of raising their swords.
“Fine,” Michael seethes. “But we’re watching you, Snake.” He shoves a finger in our direction, then looks to Adrian. “Put it on her.”
Sheer determination ripples down my spine as I straighten, even as the whisper of fear swirls alongside it. I can do this. I have to.
Graylen growls and shifts closer to me, his shoulder blocking half of my body from them.
“Let them,” I remind him quickly through our bond. “Find Nightfall and reconnect the shard to it. My magic and us retrieving the weapon to gain the upper hand depends on us.”
Still, he hesitates, his back rigid and a small vein popping out along the side of his neck.
“Graylen.” I wrap my hand around his forearm, the muscles tense. “This is the plan, remember? We’re just starting it early.”
I step around him and sheathe my dagger. Graylen doesn’t stop me.
Michael reaches for the collar, but Adrian jerks it away.
“I will put it on her,” Adrian hisses. “You don’t get to touch her.”
A flicker of surprise ripples through me.
Adrian stalks over to me, his jaw set as he stops in front of us. His gaze lands on Graylen as he whispers, “I wouldn’t do it if there was any other way.”
My lips part. Something shifts between them—an understanding. It’s easy to forget that they were once friends, almost like brothers. Graylen hasn’t talked about Adrian much, but there were moments when I first arrived at the castle that I saw it.
They’ve been bickering the entire trip here, but at this moment, they’re on the same side.
Graylen dips his chin, and Adrian returns the gesture before turning to me.
My eyes fall to the cool metal resting in Adrian’s grasp. The sight of it still makes my stomach turn, despite knowing this was our plan.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian rasps, his voice too low for the soldiers to hear. His gaze meets mine, and all I can find is genuine guilt swirling behind those golden-brown eyes.
I nod, letting him know I’m ready.
As he lifts the collar and sets it against my throat, my hands begin to shake. It’s one thing to know this is a part of the plan, and another thing to actually get to this step.
Graylen’s pinky curls around mine, tugging my hand with a gentle pull.
“Breathe, little princess,” he soothes as Adrian snaps the sickening metal in place.
His voice fades as the collar begins to work, cutting off my connection to him.
“Don’t let them see you afraid. Show them that even with your magic quelled, it’s them who should be afraid of you. ”
My lungs expand, letting a rush of air in as my body listens to him.
The connection to my Essence dims sharply, like all of the air being sucked out of the room. The collar does what it’s supposed to, severing what’s left of my ties to the depths of my soul.
A lump forms in my throat, and I work to swallow it down. Now, just a never-ending sense of loneliness accompanies me as the thread that binds me to Graylen goes quiet.
My stomach turns as the realization hits me. What if I lose my magic for good? What happens if we don’t get the shard to Nightfall in time?
Adrian doesn’t linger. The moment the icy ring encircles my neck, he steps away, a burst of cold air brushing against me in his wake. He spins around, his eyes hardened, and nearly runs out of the stable.
The guards make a path for him, instantly shuffling aside to let him pass.
“Find a house in need that could use these two horses,” Adrian calls over his shoulder to no one in particular.
The man who called us filth stutters, “But, Your Majesty, we only have enough horses for us—”