Chapter 13 #2
The shadows struck the air in front of Ashton—and shattered against a ward. A golden glyph burst to life in a wide circle around the throne, crackling with ancient magic. The tendrils of shadow recoiled as if burned, the impact shaking the walls with a low hum.
Vasquez didn’t flinch. Ashton merely laughed, slow and low, his teeth glinting like a predator's.
“There she is,” he purred. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Elira’s chest was heaving, her fists clenched, but the shadows didn’t retreat—they roared around her like a tempest, dancing across the floor, climbing the walls, pooling under the feet of the onlookers.
Panic rippled through the sycophants who had come for a show, not a battle.
They backed away as if her power might leap up and drag them under.
“Do you think that frightens me?” Ashton sneered, rising from the throne. “I own you now. You think your tantrums matter? You are bound to this court by right of power. You’re mine, Elira.”
“I belong to no one,” she spat, her voice shaking with fury—and something deeper. Something old.
The guard raised his sword higher, the steel catching the torchlight with a deadly gleam. Elira’s eyes flicked from the weapon to the bound prisoner—and something in her broke.
“No!” she screamed.
The shadows surged forward like a living storm. But this time, they didn’t reach for the king.
They wrapped themselves around the prisoner, shielding him in a cocoon of dark armour, and yanked him back just as the blade came down. The sword missed by a breath, crashing into the marble with a vicious clang that echoed through the hall.
Before the guard could recover, the shadows retaliated. They lashed out with brutal speed, ripping him from the ground and slamming him against the wall with bone-crunching force. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious or worse.
Elira stood frozen, her breath sharp in her chest, the room still ringing with the impact.
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Even Ashton’s expression faltered—just for a moment.
The prisoner crumpled to the floor, untouched. Shaking. Breathing.
Elira stood in the centre of it all, the magic crackling around her like a storm about to break, her eyes wild with defiance.
And that’s when Ashton smiled again.
Not amused this time. Interested.
He descended the stairs slowly, hand outstretched, studying her like a rare beast.
“You’re going to be so much fun to break.”
Vasquez stepped forward, his eye gleaming—glazed not with awe, but something far darker. Hunger. “She is remarkable, sire,” he murmured, almost reverent. “Imagine what we could do with this.”
Ashton didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, watching Elira like a collector eyeing a priceless artifact. Then, without even glancing at the rest of us, he turned fully toward Vasquez, as though we were merely furniture cluttering his hall.
Around us, courtiers whispered like a rising wind. Words of shadowmancer and the old blood rippled through the gilded silence. Two sentinels went to the aid of the fallen guard, blood now pouring from a wound on his head, while another dragged the prisoner away.
Some people stared with open fear. Others, with barely concealed fascination. A few licked their lips like jackals circling fresh prey.
What a weapon.
I saw it in their eyes. None of them saw a girl—only a tool.
Elira took a step back, shoulders tensing, chin lifting in that defiant way of hers. But her wide, darting eyes betrayed her. She hadn’t expected the audience. Hadn’t expected to be paraded like this.
Like a prize beast brought to heel.
She turned slightly, instinctively scanning for escape, like a cornered animal sensing the tightening of the snare.
“She’s overwhelmed,” Phoenix said quietly behind me.
“She’s scared,” Leo corrected under his breath, with a flicker of pride. “And she should be.”
Ashton slowly descended the last step from his dais, his boots echoing on the marble. The crowd hushed as he approached Elira again, circling her like a hawk might circle something small and fragile.
“You’ll learn to love this court, little shadow,” he said with mock sweetness. “They’re loyal. They adore entertainment. And they know the value of power when they see it.”
Elira met his eyes with barely leashed fury.
“I’m not your pet,” she hissed.
He smiled. “Not yet.”
Vasquez took another step forward, the torchlight catching the silver threads in his robes, making him seem almost regal—if not for the leech-like gleam in his eyes.
“Your Majesty,” he said smoothly, bowing with exaggerated grace, “with your permission, I’d like to begin her proper orientation within my barracks. The girl’s magic is volatile… unshaped. She needs guidance. A firm hand.”
Elira’s lips curled, and I saw her fists clench at her sides.
Vasquez turned his gaze to her, and this time there was no pretence of formality. Just intent. Cold and calculating.
“She needs to understand her place.”
Elira’s eyes narrowed. “And you think you’ll teach me that?”
I winced at her defiance.
Gods, this girl is going to get us all killed!
Vasquez’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, I think we’ll understand each other well, in time. I have broken wilder things than you, child.”
Phoenix moved subtly closer, his hand still resting between her shoulder blades, steadying her. I could feel the tension radiating off her like heat—she was seconds from snapping.
Vasquez took one more step, now close enough to reach her if he wanted to. His voice dropped, silken and slow. “You think your power makes you untouchable, but you’ve already been claimed. You belong to the crown now. And through it…” he paused, tilting his head, “…to me.”
“Over my dead body,” Leo muttered.
Vasquez chuckled softly. “That, Captain, can be arranged.”
Elira’s voice came like a whipcrack. “Touch me and I’ll bury you in a shallow grave, right after I piss on your bones.”
The murmurs in the gallery rose again. Whispers. Laughter. A few gasps. Ashton seemed thoroughly entertained.
Vasquez looked affronted by her words. “See?” he said to the king. “So much passion. Such… fire. Let me temper it. Let me make her useful to you.”
“She is useful,” I interjected before I could stop myself, stepping beside her again. “But she’s not a blade to be dulled and mounted on your wall, Vasquez. She’s a storm. And if you mishandle her—”
He turned that withering gaze on me. “You forget your station, Thorne.”
“No,” I said, my voice low. “I remember it too well.”
Ashton leaned lazily against his throne, looking between all of us like a man watching dogs fight over scraps. He clapped his hands once, loud and sharp, drawing the room back into stillness.
“Enough. Elira will be trained, but she will not be broken.”
He smiled again. “Yet.
I stepped forward, heart hammering in my chest like it hadn’t in years. Every instinct told me this was the moment—the one I couldn’t afford to stay silent for.
“Your Majesty,” I said, dipping my head just enough to show respect without bowing. “If I may speak.”
Ashton looked amused, tipping his goblet toward his lips. “Always so eager to play the hero, Thorne. Go on.”
I ignored the jab.
“Elira’s power is raw. Wild. And if you want to wield it without losing control of her, you need her stable. She’s not ready to be paraded around like some trained beast.”
Vasquez’s lips twitched, his gaze landing on me like a blade. “You presume to dictate what the King should do with his property?”
I turned my head just slightly toward him—barely a glance—but I made sure he saw the warning in my eyes.
“I presume to protect the Crown’s interests.
If you leave her with Vasquez, he will destroy her, we both know that.
If she panics, we risk her turning that power on us. You want a weapon, not a disaster.”
Ashton said nothing, swirling his wine. Watching. Judging.
I took a breath. “Let her stay with me. I’ll see to her training. My wing is shielded and secure. I’ll monitor her. Keep her focused. Controlled.”
Behind me, I could feel Elira tense, her body like a bowstring about to snap.
Vasquez stepped forward, practically salivating. “She’s not yours to keep caged, Thorne. She belongs to the Crown. And she should be moulded by those who understand her... potential.”
I didn’t look at him.
“She stays with me,” I said again, voice low, even. “Or you’ll have another monster with no leash.”
Ashton raised his brows, clearly enjoying the show. “And what do you say, shadow girl? Do you prefer the cold steel of the General’s discipline or Vasquez’s... enthusiasm?”
Elira’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “I’d rather die.”
I almost smiled. Gods, the fire in her.
Ashton let out a short laugh. “Very well. She stays with you, Thorne. But you have six months. If she hasn’t learned obedience by then…” He flicked a finger lazily toward Vasquez. “She’s his.”
My fists clenched behind my back.
“I understand, sire,” I said, cold fury coiled beneath my skin.
I turned to Elira. She looked at me—wild-eyed and ready to fight everything in this godsforsaken court. I didn’t say a word, but I hoped she saw what I couldn’t voice.
Not here.
I’ll protect you.
Even from them.
Especially from yourself.
**
I could barely contain my fury once I got Elira back to her cell.
“You stupid, stubborn, reckless girl! Do you have any idea what you could’ve done?”
Elira didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look at me. She threw herself back onto the thin mattress like she couldn’t care less, her arms folded behind her head, gaze fixed on the low ceiling. Her posture screamed defiance, but I saw the tremor in her jaw, the tension coiled just beneath the surface.
She was still burning with that same fire. The same damn fire that had painted a target on her back.
“You can yell all you want, Thorne,” she muttered, voice clipped, bitter. “I’m not sorry.”
I took a step back, running a hand through my hair, trying to breathe. “You tried to kill the king, Elira,” I hissed. “In full view of the court. Of Vasquez.”
She turned her head then, just enough for me to see the steely glint in her eyes. “I only regret that I failed.”
There it was again. That bravado. That bite. But it didn’t reach her eyes. It never did.
“Elira…” I exhaled, dragging a hand across my face, suddenly exhausted.
“What, Thorne?” she snapped, sitting up now, eyes blazing. “Should I have just done it? Killed that old man in cold blood? Would that have satisfied him? Would that have kept me safe?”
“At least then, he might have seen you as obedient,” I bit out. “At least then he might believe he can control you.”
“Well, he can’t!” she shouted, shoving to her feet. “And I won’t pretend he can. I won’t play pet to that monster!”
She was shaking now, fists clenched, her breath ragged with fury and something far more dangerous—fear.
“If you don’t at least try to play along,” I said, my voice quiet, “he’ll send you to the Mirror Room.”
Her brows pinched slightly, the first crack in her defiance. “What’s the Mirror Room?”
I hesitated.
Even the air between us seemed to tighten, as if the castle itself didn’t want the words spoken aloud.
“It’s not something you want to find out,” I said eventually. My voice was softer now.
More dangerous.
She searched my face, trying to gauge the truth in my eyes.
“All you need to know,” I added, “is that no one walks out of it the same. If they walk out at all.”
The flicker of fear crossed her expression, but she covered it quickly, squaring her shoulders.
She was brave. Too brave.
I stepped even closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head to hold my gaze.
“You’re assigned to me now,” I said. “That’s good. It means I can protect you.” A beat of silence.
“But only if you let me.”
She let out a bitter laugh. I gave her a sharp look but let it go.
“I can’t promise you anything,” I continued, “but I’ll help you. As much as I can.”
“How?” she asked, suspicious, arms crossed like armour.
“Your powers, for one. Work with us. Stop fighting us every godsforsaken day. Maybe then you’ll stay alive a little longer.”
“And what exactly would that involve?”
“You’ve seen some of it already. Slade can train your body—build strength and control. Phoenix will help you master the shadows. Leo’s... irritating, but he’s a damn good weapons trainer.”
“And you?”
I hesitated, then met her gaze. “I’ll help you figure out who you are. I’ll help you weaponize your thoughts.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You mean invade my mind.”
I rolled mine. “Call it what you want. There’s something buried in you. Let me dig it out.”
“Oh, and that has nothing to do with your hatred for unsolved mysteries?”
I almost smirked. “Maybe a little,” I admitted. “But this won’t be easy. It’ll be brutal. It’ll hurt. But if we make you valuable enough, he won’t risk breaking you. He’ll protect you instead.”
“And Vasquez?”
I sighed. “Vasquez won’t back off. He’ll twist and manipulate every chance he gets. He’s got spies in every corner—expect it.”
She muttered, “And you wonder why everyone hates Shades.”
I didn’t respond. Because she was right.