Chapter 71 Theron
THERON
A deafening boom cracks through the Court, shaking the stone beneath my feet. A cloud of black and purple smoke bursts into existence in the center of the hall, thick and roiling, spreading fast. The smell hits next—sharp and acrid—burning the back of my throat and stinging my eyes.
People scream and the chanting dies instantly, replaced by panic and confusion as the smoke billows outward.
I step back instinctively, one arm coming up to shield my face as I squint through the haze, trying to see what the fuck is going on.
Finally, the smoke clears and I see a tall woman standing in the center of the Court, as though she’s always been there—as though she didn’t just tear her way into existence.
She’s dressed in black lace that clings to her body like a shadow and her dark hair falls in sleek waves around her shoulders.
Her eyes glow purple, and I see a cold amusement dancing in their depths. Who the fuck is she and what does she want?
I don’t know the answers to those questions, but I have a feeling I’ll be sorry when I do.
The woman strides forward with slow, deliberate steps, completely unbothered by the chaos around her. The guards hesitate, unsure, their spears wavering as if they don’t quite dare to point them at her.
“Well, well,” she says, her voice smooth as silk and sweet as poison. “If it isn’t the Lost Prince…come home at last.”