Chapter 33
Thorne
The knock at my door wasn’t loud. It didn’t have to be. Two royal guards waited outside—silent, tense, unsmiling.
I already knew.
They didn’t speak as they escorted me through the stone halls, past sentries who avoided my eyes. I walked with my hands loose at my sides, chin high, as if I still had standing.
But I could feel it. The shift.
I was no longer the King’s favoured Shade. I was the man who’d let the shadowmancer slip through his fingers.
The double doors to the throne room opened with a groan. The familiar gold and obsidian banners felt heavier now, like they hung not in honour—but warning.
Ashton sat upon the throne, legs crossed, fingers laced beneath his chin. Perfect posture. Regal silence. But the fury was there—in the tightness of his jaw, the stillness of his hands.
Vasquez stood to his right, smiling faintly, like a snake tasting blood in the air.
I stopped before them and bowed just enough to follow protocol.
“Your Majesty.”
Ashton tilted his head. “Commander.”
His voice was calm. Polished. That was worse.
He let the silence stretch until it threatened to split the room.
Then: “Is there something you want to tell me?”
A loaded question. One that begged for betrayal.
I kept my face neutral. “You’ve heard, then.”
Ashton uncrossed his legs and rose slowly. “That my little pet has escaped?” He said the word like it tasted rotten. “Yes. I’ve heard. What I don’t understand is … how?”
“She broke through the wards,” I said, voice tight. “I’m still investigating how.”
“Oh, I see,” Ashton drawled, his sneer barely contained. “You’re investigating.”
“And—” I hesitated, teeth gritting. “And with your leave, we’ll begin searching for her immediately.”
Ashton tilted his head, calculating. His silence stretched a little too long.
“Sire,” I said, stepping forward, “I’ll find her. I swear it—”
The king raised a hand, cutting me off with a flick of his fingers. Vasquez turned toward him, eyes glittering, as if handing over a gift.
“Tell me, Vasquez,” he said smoothly, “what would you do in my situation?”
Vasquez’s grin widened, pleased to be asked.
“Well, clearly, under Commander Thorne’s watch, the girl was granted far too much freedom.
Too much trust. If it were me? I’d send a retrieval team.
Bring her back in chains—and deliver her straight to me.
Once she’s in my hands, I assure you, Your Majesty, she’ll never dare defy your rule again. ”
“No!” I snapped, stepping forward. “Give me the chance—I can find her. My Shades and I, we can bring her back without—”
Ashton lifted his hand. The silence that followed was absolute.
His eyes never left mine.
“Tell me, Thorne,” he said quietly, “do you not think me a generous king?”
I blinked. “Sire?”
“A fair king?” he pressed, voice deceptively mild. “One who allows his commanders the freedom to plan their raids as they see fit. One who permits you to train your Shades with minimal interference. One who trusts you.”
He stepped down a single stair, each word dropping heavier than the last.
“And yet… you raise your voice to me. You interrupt. You defend the girl who just spat on my rule.” Ashton’s eyes narrowed, his tone softening in that way that always came before a storm.
“Now I’m left wondering—should it be her disobedience I punish… or yours?”
“I will track her down,” I said quickly. “She can’t have gotten far—”
“It is no longer your responsibility, Thorne,” Ashton cut in, voice like steel wrapped in silk. He turned slightly. “Vasquez. You will assemble a team. Find the girl. When she’s caught, you’ll bring her to me.”
Vasquez bowed his head, though the glee on his face made the gesture meaningless.
He was smiling so wide, I was half surprised not to see him drooling on the marble.
“As you wish, sire,” Vasquez said, grinning so wide I was shocked he didn’t choke on it.
I felt cold in my bones.
“Sire, please—”
Ashton cut me off with a slow shake of his head. “You’ve failed me, Thorne. For the last time.”
He stepped forward, each word razor-sharp. “I gave you power. Command. I let you choose your men. And in return, all I asked was your loyalty and your devotion.” His voice dropped, soft and savage. “And you let my new prize slip through my fingers because of your negligence.”
I stood frozen, heart hammering.
Ashton’s fury made him terrible. Not loud—lethal. His hand hovered near his sword, and for one breathless second, I thought he might strike me down where I stood.
But then—his voice changed. Soft. Too soft. Cruel, intimate.
“I think it’s time you remembered what happens when you get too close to things you were only meant to control.”
He turned his head, eyes flicking toward the side door.
“Bring her in.”
The sound came before the sight—wheels on stone, groaning under delicate weight.
Two guards pushed the chair forward with solemn care, as if they were escorting a queen. Or a weapon.
She was draped in white silk, her skin pale and perfect in a way that made me sick. Her hands rested limp in her lap, twitching faintly. Her golden hair had been combed and pinned, unnaturally neat—like someone had dressed her with reverence.
Like a doll.
But her eyes—
They were wrong.
Wide. Glazed. Staring straight ahead, not seeing. Not there. Whatever had lived behind them was either gone… or buried so deep it couldn’t find the light.
“Allison…”
Her name cracked out of me.
I stepped forward instinctively, then faltered.
She was my sister. My baby sister.
And she didn’t even blink.
“Oh, you do remember her. Wonderful,” Ashton said cheerfully, stepping forward. He ran a hand across her cheek with grotesque fondness, like he was petting something he owned.
I shook where I stood. Her name lodged again in my throat.
She gave no sign she knew me. No flicker. No twitch of recognition.
“What is she doing here, Your Highness?”
My voice trembled—not with fear. With rage.
Ashton didn’t answer. Not at first.
He crouched beside her, brushing a lock of hair from her face with surgical gentleness.
“Allison, darling,” he murmured, voice laced with mock affection. “How are you, precious?”
Her body flinched—barely. A faint tremor passed through her hand, fingers twitching once in her lap.
“Please… don’t, sire,” I said quietly.
A whisper. A plea I hated myself for voicing.
Ashton turned his head toward me, eyes gleaming.
“You’d beg me, Thorne? For mercy?” His voice dripped with disdain. “And why would I grant that… when I’ve given you everything, only to watch you piss it away?”
He smiled then. Too wide. Too pleased.
Turning back to her, he leaned in close, his mouth near her ear.
“Alli, baby,” Ashton crooned, his voice warm and poisonous. “Show your big brother a little taste of what happens when someone disappoints me.”
The air changed.
A swirl of darkness crept out from Allison’s still body like smoke pulled from a wound. The room grew cold—bone-deep, soul-deep. My breath caught. My vision blurred.
Then the shadows swallowed everything.
I staggered back, blinded, the temperature dropping until it burned. I reached for my sword.
There was no sword.
No marble.
No throne.
Only ash in my lungs and the scent of blood—thick, metallic, real—coating the air like a memory I’d never escaped.
Stone took shape beneath my boots. Velvet curtains lined cracked walls, soaked in red. My father’s study.
I was home.
But not how I remembered it.
Screaming cut through the air.
“THORNE!”
High. Panicked. Raw.
I turned—and saw her.
Allison.
She was crawling across the floor, blood smeared down her back. Her dress was shredded, her knees scraped raw. Her fingers stretched toward me, clawing for help.
“I’m here!” I yelled. “Alli—I’m here—”
She was right there.
I reached for her—
And something struck me from the side.
I hit the ground hard. Stone bit into my shoulder. Boots slammed into my ribs. Another. Another.
I tried to get up—but hands dragged me back, cold steel biting into my wrists.
I was restrained.
I was helpless.
Through my spinning vision, I saw the Sentinels, draped in blood-red. Faceless. Towering.
They grabbed her by the ankles.
She screamed my name—screamed for me—and I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t move.
“No! Please! I’m right here!”
A silver flash. A final scream.
Then silence.
And she was gone.
The chains burned as I pulled against them. My arms shook. My chest heaved.
Pain exploded in my jaw—another blow. I crashed sideways, choking on my own breath.
Then— another scene.
Another horror.
My parents—on their knees in the study. My father’s sword shattered beside him. My mother’s hand clutched his, like she could keep him alive by sheer will.
The Sentinels loomed behind them. They gave a single, wordless command. The blades fell.
I screamed so hard I felt something tear in my throat.
“No—NO—”
I tried to crawl, tried to reach them—but the chains only tightened, metal digging into skin, into bone.
I wasn’t a Shade.
I wasn’t a commander.
I was a child.
Watching everything I loved die.
Then—
The world shifted again.
Faster. Violent.
And the battlefield unfolded.
The ground was black and scorched. The air stank of magic and rot.
Leo’s body was the first I saw—his throat torn open, face frozen mid-laugh like he hadn’t seen it coming.
Phoenix, curled on his side, flames still eating at his body.
Slade, standing just long enough to meet my eyes before a blade burst through his chest from behind. He dropped with a grunt. Didn’t rise.
And then—
Elira.
Alone.
On her knees. Her hair clung to her cheeks. Blood dripped from her mouth. She was shaking.
She looked up at me.
Help me. Her eyes begged it. Screamed it. HELP ME!
“I’m trying—!” I rasped. “I’m trying!”
And then something—spike, shadow, metal—punched through her chest from behind.
Her back arched. Her mouth opened in a silent cry.
And she fell.
Dead.
I screamed.
I screamed like my soul was being torn in half.
The chains shattered—
And I hit stone.
Hard.
Reality returned like a slap. I was back in the throne room on my knees.
Gasping. Shaking. Broken.
Allison sat in her chair, tears streaked down her face.
Blood trickled from her nose, her ears. Her lips trembled.
She was hurting. Hurting because of me.
And Ashton?
He stood just off to the side, his arms folded, his expression calm.
And he was smiling.
Like he'd just watched a dog finally learn it couldn't run past its leash.
I curled my fingers tighter against the floor.
The only thing keeping me upright was the cold.
The sharp, steady bite of it. It grounded me, kept me from floating away into whatever fractured place Allison had just dragged me through.
My gaze shifted—unwillingly, unavoidably—to her.
Allison sat slumped in her chair like a broken marionette, blood streaking from her nose, her lips pale and trembling. She looked hollow—spent—as if conjuring that nightmare had cost her the last piece of whatever was left inside.
Ashton’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp and final.
“Now, Thorne. I will give you one chance to redeem yourself.”
He stepped forward, gaze cold. “Find whoever broke my wards for the girl. And end them.”
He paused, just long enough to let the weight of it settle.
“Or that nightmare?” He smiled. Slow.
“It will be only the beginning.”