52. Chapter 52
AMARIA
I climbed the stairs with my brother's blood still wet on my hands.
Most of it was on my dress by then—dark smears across the grey wool, already drying into something permanent. But I could still feel it—the ghost of his suffering coating my skin, seeping into the cracks of my palms.
Caden.
His name echoed in my skull with every step.
Caden is alive. Caden is being tortured. Caden is the reason this kingdom can celebrate.
My brother was hunting me and I didn't feel him. My Mark recognized him and I didn't listen. He was right there—for weeks—screaming behind that mask, and I was too busy hating the monster to see the boy inside it.
The Griefweaver hadn't stopped screaming since I'd left him. Even now, climbing back toward the Suppressors, the light and noise and glittering lies, I could feel the echo of his agony pulsing through my chest like a second heartbeat.
Find Eryndor. Get his help. Save your brother.
The plan was simple. Clean. Logical.
I was none of those things right now, Fury boiling so close to the surface I was surprised steam wasn’t coming off this damn grey sack.
The dungeon stairwell spat me out into a corridor of polished marble and perfumed air. The shift hit me like a slap—the cold damp replaced by warmth, the smell of iron and suffering swallowed by rosewater and roasted meat. My eyes watered against the sudden brightness.
The great hall was a blaze of gold.
Chandeliers. Candles. Silk banners cascading from the vaulted ceiling. The court had gathered for another celebration—the upcoming wedding, the blessed union, the kingdom's bright future built on the bones of my brother's suffering.
I stood in the doorway and watched them laugh.
Watched them drink wine that should have been vinegar.
Watched them eat fruit that should have been rot.
Watched them dance and preen and congratulate themselves on their miraculous prosperity while Caden hung in chains beneath their feet, absorbing every ounce of pain they were too precious to feel.
Find Eryndor. Stay calm. Don't—
"—pathetic little creature shouldn't even be here."
The voice cut through the noise. Sharp. Cruel. Familiar.
I turned.
General Aldrath stood near the refreshment table, resplendent in his medals and his arrogance. He was flanked by lesser nobles, all of them laughing at someone.
Serenya.
She stood frozen before them, her breath shallow, shoulders drawn too high. The glow that had started to return to her skin had dimmed again. She looked small. Fragile. Hunted. She clutched the little dog to her chest like a lifeline and it snarled at them.
"A burnout," Aldrath continued, loud enough for half the hall to hear. "Cluttering up the court like vermin. The King should have drowned her with the rest of the magical refuse."
More laughter.
Serenya flinched.
And something inside me went very, very quiet.
Find Eryndor. Stay calm.
The thought echoed distantly. Reasonable. Sane.
Stay calm.
The General was still talking. Still laughing. His hand moved toward Serenya—casual, proprietary—reaching for her arm like she was an object to be grabbed and discarded.
Stay—
He touched her.
The world went red.
For one terrible, cold moment, I did nothing.
Except... I stopped being the little female in the grey dress surrounded by Suppressors.
My fangs descended, my eyes burned, and I roared. The entire castle shook like it was hit by a sudden violent earthquake.
I ripped my hands upward and gravity forgot which way was down.
The General went up first.
He hit the ceiling with a satisfying crack, his medals scattering, his sword clattering uselessly against the vaulted stone. The nobles around him followed—lifted like puppets with cut strings, spinning, flailing, screaming.
Tables rose. Chairs. Platters of glamoured food. Wine bottles shattered as they struck the chandeliers. Crystal rained down like shrapnel.
Thirty feet in every direction, the world inverted.
And I stood at the center of it. Still. Silent. My veins running black and silver, my eyes reflecting a horror that made the floating courtiers weep with terror.
Then I dropped into a deep lunge, driving my hands and heel down and the nobles slammed into the floor, bones cracking, blood spilling. With a flick of my wrist, they were suspended in the air again, whipping around as if suctioned into a hurricane.
You drink wine while my brother drowns in your pain.
The thought ripped through me like a snarl.
You laugh while he screams.
General Aldrath fumbled for his sword while whipping through the air.
You called her vermin.
The color began to drain from the room. His sword disintegrated.
It started at the edges—gold fading to grey, crimson fading to ash. The glamour couldn't survive what I was doing. The beautiful lie peeled away layer by layer, revealing the rot beneath. Wilted flowers. Stained silk. Cracked marble.
The truth of this kingdom, spreading like a stain.
You touched her.
General Aldrath dissolved into nothing but dust particles that swirled around the screaming nobles, sticking to their teeth, getting in their eyes, making them gag and cry.
"CONTAIN HER!"
The shout came from somewhere below. The King's voice. Or his guards. It didn't matter.
The Suppressor rushed toward me—the same one who'd been dampening my Marks for days, who'd kept me muted and small and manageable. He reached for my arm, magic flaring, ready to press down on my power and crush it back into silence.
I turned to look at him.
He stopped. He stumbled. Gasping for air.
His eyes went wide as he realized—his magic was not suppressing mine. I was consuming his magic instead.
I unhinged my jaw, fangs gleaming, and inhaled, sucking all of his power into me.
The suppression magic ripped out of him. He choked—staggered—blood streaming from his nose and eyes as I devoured the very power he'd been using to cage me. His eyes rolled back. He crumpled.
You tried to tame me.
I stepped over his body.
You tried to tame us both.
The room was chaos now. Screaming nobles. Crashing furniture. The nobles still flying through the air. And through it all, the grey spread—eating the gold, swallowing the light, turning the dressed-up prison into the wasteland it had always been.
My brother is dying in the dark so you can pretend.
The second Suppressor tried to run.
I caught her with a thought. Lifted her. Held her suspended in the air alongside the others, her face contorting with terror.
"Amaria."
The voice cut through the storm. Just my name, spoken quietly, like we were alone in a room instead of standing in the wreckage of a court I'd just destroyed.
Eryndor walked toward me.
The gravity field parted for him—I didn't choose that, it just happened, the magic making space for him to walk directly to me. He strode through the floating debris, tumbling fae, untouched. Like the chaos around us was just weather, and he was used to storms.
He stopped in front of me.
His eyes found mine. No fear in them. No horror. Just something steady and warm that cut through the red haze like sunlight through smoke.
"Amaria." His hands rose slowly and cupped my face. "Eyes on me."
I can't.
His other hand went behind my neck and gripped it, grounding me. “Steady.”
They hurt him. They hurt Caden. They've been hurting him for years and I can't—
"I know." His thumbs traced my cheekbones. His voice was soft. "I know. But not like this. Not here. Come back to me."
I don't know how.
"Yes you do." His forehead leaned against mine. "Breathe. Feel the tether. Feel me."
I felt him.
Through the bond. Through the rage. Through the black and silver storm tearing through my veins. He was there—steady, solid, a fixed point in the chaos. Not trying to control me. Not trying to contain me. Just there.
The grey stopped spreading.
The floating nobles hung suspended, still weeping, still terrified, but no longer rising.
The color didn't return. The glamour stayed stripped. But the destruction paused.
"That's it." Eryndor's breath was warm against my skin. "That's it. Stay with me."
The power fought me. It didn't want to stop—it clawed at my ribs, snarled against the cage of my bones, demanding more.
I tasted blood and my knees buckled. Eryndor's grip tightened on my face, his thumbs pressing harder against my cheekbones, and I focused on that—the pressure, the warmth, the rough drag of his skin against mine.
The world crashed back down.
Furniture splintered against marble. Nobles collapsed in groaning heaps. Wine and glass and shattered crystal scattered across the floor like the aftermath of a battle.
I stood in the center of it. Shaking. My veins still dark and pulsing. My eyes still reflecting their nightmares.
Eryndor's hands hadn't left my face. He was looking at me like I'd just done something holy instead of horrific.
You have no idea how much mercy she just showed you.
The thought came through the tether—not meant for me, but I caught it anyway. He was looking at the nobles, crumpled on the floor, and thinking about how easy it would have been for me to kill them.
How easy it would have been to kill them all.
Serenya was crying. Maxx had appeared from somewhere—shielding her, pulling her close, his usual grin replaced by something fierce and protective. The court was in shambles. The King—
The King was watching.
He stood at the head of the great hall, untouched by the chaos, his expression unreadable. But his eyes were calculating. Measuring.
He's not angry, I realized. He's afraid.
Good.
Then the guards closed in. The Suppressors who were left, which were dozens, all pressed in around us.
"By order of the Crown." The Captain's voice was steady, but his hands were shaking. "The Lady Amaria is to be taken into custody. For the safety of the court."
They're sending me back to the dungeons. Where Caden is. Where—
"Wait." Eryndor stepped forward. "She stays with me. The tether—"
"Will be accommodated." The King's voice pierced the chaos. "We'll move your chambers above the containment level. Close enough to prevent... physical complications."
Eryndor went rigid. His rage spiked through the bond—hot, desperate.
"You can't—"
"I can." The King's smile was patient. Paternal. Terrible. "She is a danger to this court, my son. Surely you see that. The dungeons are for her protection as much as ours."
The room tilted. Whatever fire had been keeping me upright guttered and died, and the weight of what I'd just done pushed down on my shoulders, my spine, the backs of my knees.
My hands were shaking. My veins still pulsed dark under my skin, but sluggishly now, fading, the black and silver retreating like a tide pulling out.
Liar.
But there was nothing I could do. The Fury had burned through me, left me hollow, and now the guards were closing in with suppression shackles and I was too empty to fight.
Eryndor caught my hand. Squeezed. His promise came through the tether—wordless, fierce, absolute.
I'll get you out. I'll find a way.
I know, I thought back. But first—Caden. You have to help me save Caden.
The shackles closed around my wrists.
And as they led me away, I caught one last glimpse of the great hall—the stripped glamour, the ruined feast, the courtiers still trembling in the wreckage of their beautiful lie.
You wanted a monster, I thought at the King's retreating back. You made one.
And monsters don't stay caged forever.