CHAPTER THIRTEEN #3
The horns split the air again and guards flooded the podium, five to each side, boots pounding in unison until the crowd hushed all together.
Verena. Callum’s voice, firm in my skull.
I rolled my eyes, a reluctant growl rising in my throat.
He moved toward the stage, stepping into position just below Obrann’s throne. He was ready.
And me? Once again left in the dark.
I hated not knowing. Not planning. Control was survival. Being left out stripped me raw.
What is the plan? I pressed, teeth bared in thought.
His mind burned behind a halo of flame. Just trust me.
Anger stirred, the cold slick of scales rising, lifting from its curl. I was not one of Elva’s chess pieces, waiting dormant to be moved by the command of others.
How dare he try to cage us.
No. That wasn’t my voice or my thought. I pushed it down, silencing it, smothering the impulse to burn the whole plan down.
I didn’t need to know. I needed to trust Callum. I did trust him.
He’d always done what was best, for all of us. And he was right. I was the only one who could get everyone out safely. I didn’t always have to be in the middle of the chaos, even if that’s where I felt like I belonged.
A shiver crawled over my spine as the breeze swept past, carrying the gnawing sense of being watched. I turned—
And found him, the man cloaked in black. He stood at the end of the platform, hands folded behind his broad back. The way he held his chin high was like he’d been written from defiance itself.
He caught my stare, winked, then looked away.
Oh, good. The fluttering in my belly was back.
Callum stepped forward, crossing onto the platform while every breath in the square held.
“Fae and mortals of Csolenia,” his voice rang out, commanding, though I heard the distaste sharpen each next word.
“Bow now to your grace, King Obrann Bitrayen of Luamis, second king to the Luamis throne and protector and savior of Selvarra.”
Protector. Savior. The words were a mockery.
He appeared, Obrann, stepping into the light with his vice in tow. The crowd broke like glass, falling to one knee. Too easily, too damn obediently.
I didn’t. One second, that’s all it would take. One flick of my blade, one spoken word to my stoned serpent, a single thought to the curse coiled inside my veins and Obrann’s reign would end here.
Darkness moved, slithering down to my core, peeling the restraints back, scale by scale.
No. Callum’s voice ripped through me.
I sent him a mental picture of me flicking him off.
It felt wrong, dishonorable, to kneel before this false king. Fury coiled tighter, hungry, ready—
Without thinking, my attention was pulled to him again, the cloaked man. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes, didn’t know if his features were symmetrical or flawed. But he held my gaze, like he knew exactly what my body wished to do. He gave one slow, deliberate blink.
Of approval, maybe. Or warning.
Obrann’s boots stomped across the wood as he barged past his guards, taking his place before Callum.
Callum bowed, shifting aside. Kneel, his voice snapped again. Before he fucking kills you.
My teeth ground together, but I forced myself down, bringing one knee to the dirt, one bow to sin.
And then the fog rolled in.
“Rise.” Obrann’s voice cracked across the crowd like a whip.
So forceful, so unnaturally loud, I wondered if someone hidden in the crowd was echoing it for him.
His eyes surveyed us as he shoved his cloak back, nearly flinging it into who approached next. Prince Perseus flanked him, cruelty hewn into every angle. A mirror of his father, but younger, shinier.
And somehow, worse.
Perseus sneered when Obrann seized his wrist, wincing when the grip tightened. I let my vision shift, just enough to peel back the veil, to see if the rumors were true. That Obrann held no strength of his own, only stole it from others.
Red and yellow waves were ripped from Perseus’s body, siphoned into Obrann’s palm as father and son raised their hands together, a ridicule of unison.
The crowd reluctantly cheered as the curse stripped away the facade and I saw it all, the coward beneath the crown.
A hiss worked its way up my throat as warmth brushed my shins, a haze that didn’t belong.
Obrann dropped Perseus’s wrist, the latter subtly rubbing the mark left behind. “My wonderful kinfolk of Csolenia, thank you for joining me this morning.” Obrann’s voice oozed across the square, slippery-smooth, wrapping itself around every ear.
His glare cut to Perseus, who still stood too close. The prince managed to feign a smile, bowing before stepping back.
“Though it pains me to summon you under such tragic circumstances, let us remember, the Gods are grateful for our sacrifice.”
Callum’s fingers drummed once, twice, against the helmet at his side. A code. A signal.
Movement was everywhere, a hundred faces, a hundred eyes and not even one belonged to those I trusted most. They were here. I knew they were here. But their absence left me unsettled.
“As you know,” Obrann continued, “it is treason to defy your king. It is an even graver dishonor,” a pause, “to rebel. This morning,” he spread his arms, as if offering benediction, “I bring forth a traitor.”
My stomach dropped, sinking through the cobblestones as the guard shoved a shackled figure forward, a sack smothering their head, rags hanging from their frame.
Step by step, the limp in their gait revealed itself.
For a moment, air lodged itself sharp behind my teeth. Disbelief wasn’t the right word for this. He would risk Rook?
“As by law, the penalty for rebelling against the crown—is death. I invite everyone to pray for the soul who found himself lost.” Obrann bowed his head, hands folding in imitated devotion.
I bowed mine too, just long enough to murmur a plea that the gods smite him where he stood.
Nothing. Sacrifice does not please them.
Four heartbeats later, Obrann lifted his head. “Very well then,” he said, turning so his chin scraped his shoulder. “Executioner.”
My heart slammed into my ribs, and for once the curse didn’t just saunter forward but was demanded.
Fangs punched down, slicing my lip until blood traced hot down my chin. My palm curled over my dagger as my stare found only Obrann.
What the fuck are you doing?
Damn it. I really did need to strengthen those shields. My eyes flicked to Callum, his head barely shaking, a gesture small enough to look like nothing, but clear enough for me.
It’s under control, Verena. You trust me, don’t you?
Trust him? When Rook was being dragged across the stage like an animal to slaughter? I tried to rein it in, but how could I? Even if we saved him today, the damage was done. Obrann would know. Everyone would know. Rook would never be safe again.
The crowd roared as the guards shoved him down, his knees slamming into the boards. He thrashed, a throaty sound tearing from him.
Callum stepped forward, dropping his helmet with a thud, forcing his hand down on Rook’s arm, holding him there.
He expected me to sit idle. To watch. To kneel while they bled my friend across this stage.
Did he know me at all?
The village screamed for leniency, their pleas scraping against the square walls.
Obrann’s lip curled into disgust as he turned to face us. “Silence.”
The word reverberated, charting through us all, through our veins, rooting in our skulls, commanding.
And we obeyed. Every one of us. Not because we wanted to, but because the prince’s power wove manipulation into our being.
And now, so did Obrann. His voice shackled us. Bent us.
I fought it, every breath fumbling for air that wasn’t laced in lies. My eyes burned, hot tears welling as I tried to resist the chokehold on my mind.
It didn’t touch the curse. Nothing ever did.
“Now, that’s better, yes?” Obrann’s glee slicked across the podium, too obvious, too rehearsed. Perseus didn’t bother to hide his grin.
A broad man stepped forward, boots heavy on the boards, while Rook shook against his shackles.
His trembling made my chest seize. Please be for show. Please be performance. Please don’t let him be terrified.
I wanted to scream until my throat tore. To rip the silence apart so we would all remember Obrann’s grip wasn’t strength, it was theft. That was the flaw in being a siphon: you could steal, gorge on what wasn’t yours, but you had no mastery over it. No control.
“Ah, here we are.” Obrann turned, presenting the man at his side.
My blood stilled when I saw him. He was monstrous and dark. The same man who had winked at me from the crowd.
“My, my,” Obrann’s throat hitched, his words sticky with something close to lust. “You are quite spectacular.” His brows pinched inward. “We must find you a more fitting place after today. You would do wonders among my personal guard.”
The man inclined his head, menace in the motion, while he brushed a guard’s grip off Rook with a lazy twitch. Which left only Callum’s fingers clamping down on Rook’s arm as he guided him against the waiting block.
The crowd held itself taut, every chest locked, every throat sealed shut. Because we all knew. For a Fae, there were only two ways to be sure—
Rip out the heart. Or sever the head.
Obrann clapped, stepping back from the platform’s edge, letting his guards slide into place, not shielding him, but hovering close enough to catch the blow of it.
The man raised the axe, iron glinting in the light as Callum ripped the sack from Rook’s head—
And my stomach plunged. It was Rook’s body. His shoulders, his bronzed hair. But the face, that wasn’t his. It was twisted and morphed. A stranger’s mask stretched across him.
“You need not witness this,” Obrann crooned, “but you must be present.”
As if anyone here wanted to watch. Cloaks rose, hands shielded faces. Mothers turned children away.
Still, the axe lifted higher, my pulse roaring louder.
Callum, this better be fucking good.
“On with it!” Obrann barked.
The axe came down. And of course—
I reacted.