Chapter 37
T he king returns in the dead of night, his croca-drawn carriage and accompanying party scaling up the castle under the moonlight.
He strides into this throne room, posture straight and shoulders back with several guards trailing behind him. I stand to the side, silently watching from the shadows.
Everything is prepared. The servants evacuated through the secret tunnel with all the belongings and food they could carry. The castle stands empty and cold, except for the king’s loyal guards, but by the time they notice, it will be too late.
The king stops short when he sees Theo lounging on the king’s throne with one knee bent and one leg stretched out, his cheek resting against his fist. The king comes to a sudden halt halfway across the room and regards his son with one eyebrow raised .
“Child,” he says evenly, “That does not belong to you.”
Theo does not reply and instead fixes him with a stare. The king narrows his eyes slightly but gives no other sign of moving. After a beat, Theo slowly stands from the throne.
“Good,” the king says, clapping his hands together and smiling. His beard has grown long and straggly during his journey, but his clothes are untarnished as usual. “Now, I am sure you are excited to see what I have brought you—those fatheads at Swordstead did send a raven, yes?”
“Yes,” Theo replies quietly, standing in front of the throne still. His hands are balled into fists behind his back.
“Excellent. Even halfway, it is a horrid place. Far too damp and cold. But they are in dire need of an ally,” the king continues. If he notices Theo’s quiet rage, it does not bother him. “Some civil war or famine or something. Anyway, they had no female heirs to send so they allowed me some other high-born girl. It will need to do—for too long have you been dithering about, making doe-eyes at that commoner witch. But now she is gone…”
The king snaps his fingers, and the throne room doors open with a loud groan. Two of his travelling guards march in, hauling something between them. No, someone.
My hand shoots up, hovering in front of my mouth in horror. Theo presses his lips together, jaw clenched. To others, he is standing with his regular upright posture—to me, I can see every muscle in his body is tensed, like a coiled spring.
The guards drag the girl in, her feet stumbling. Her dress is caked in dirt, and her hair is long and wild. She looks around with wide, red-ringed eyes swivelling around the room, her lip quivering with the effort of holding herself together. A surge of rage swells inside me, and I instinctively take a step forward before having to stop myself. I stare at the king hatefully. The king misreads the disgust on Theo’s face.
“Fear not, she was born clawless. I would not shackle you to a werewolf and have two monstrosities in my home.” The king laughs, loud and obnoxious, unaware no one else in the room laughs with him. The girl flinches at the king’s casual use of such a slur. He flicks his wrist at the guards, and they drop their grip on her. She sways, unsteady. “Olivia is clean, unspoiled, and willing.”
“Willing?” Theo scoffs incredulously, breaking his silence. “Every single word of what you said was poison, but to describe this poor girl as willing crosses the line into a fucking delusion.”
The king snaps his head towards Theo, mouth open. The young girl looks warily between them. My palms start to sweat and I will Theo to remember the plan .
“What did you say to me, child?” the king addresses the prince, his voice dangerously low.
Theo takes another step forward, looking down on his father from the raised platform of the throne.
“You heard exactly what I said,” he replies. I am relieved to see his hands are no longer balled into fists, and his shoulders have relaxed. The king regards him for a moment before snapping his fingers again. The rest of his travelling guards pour into the room.
“The boy has gotten ahead of himself in my absence,” he says to his guards, already turning away from Theo. “Put him in the dungeon for a few days until he is more grateful for what I have done for him.”
But the guards do not move. They stand, motionless and open-mouthed.
Theo closes his eyes and his expression smooths as he clears his mind. Painlessly, peacefully, he draws on his faeth. A copper tang infests the air. His skin hardens into shiny scales, and his spine pushes out pointed spikes. He hunches over slightly before his limbs elongate, and his face spirals into a long snout. Even my mouth drops when I watch as large, leathery wings sprout from his back. He spreads them as though stretching a limb, and I realise his tattoos have shifted with them. They traverse the skin of his wings, inky black against gold. Theo grins with a row of terrifying teeth .
The king takes a shaky step back, eyes wide.
“No,” Theo growls, his dragon voice reverberating through the room.
“Guards!” the king shouts before turning and sprinting towards his secret exit.
The guards jump into action, drawing their swords in a resounding clang of metal. Theo draws himself up to his full height, his head hovering inches beneath the high ceiling, and stands before them. He opens his mouth wide, and I expect a great roar to reverberate through the halls, but instead, the air around us shifts with static. Theo points his large snout near the guards, and lightning shoots forth from his throat. It is soundless but cracks the air in half, landing hard against the marble floor and shattering it with a flash of light. The guards shriek, falling backwards over each other to try and get away.
The king does not even notice, his back already to them while he flees. But when he reaches the secret door and tugs, he finds it has been locked. He blinks at it for a moment before pulling again, furiously yanking backwards.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he angrily mutters. In his cowardly frenzy, he does not see me standing next to him.
“Hello,” I say cheerfully, and the king yelps, startled. He raises his hands up in defence, but when I step out of the shadows, he sees who I am. His face goes pale.
“You…you should be—” he stammers.
I cock my head at him, smiling sweetly. I want to say something cutting and witty, but instead, I leave him sputtering, brushing past him to rush to the young girl’s side. She is frozen to the spot, shivering with her arms wrapped tightly around her. She looks at me with wide eyes before darting them back to Theo.
“It is alright,” I whisper to her, wrapping my cloak around her shoulders. “Look.”
I glance up at Theo, who allows himself to turn back, his scales sloughing off and his size shrinking to human level. The girl visibly relaxes as he does.
“L-Like a werewolf?” she asks me. I smile.
“Of sorts,” I reply. “You are safe, but we need to leave the castle. Now. The rest of the staff are in the village. They will feed you and have you sent home.”
“Home?” She swallows, and tears begin to fall. “I am allowed home?”
“You have my word.”
She looks at me with round, watery eyes. She half-turns towards the castle doors but hesitation lines her body.
“But the king—” she starts.
“He is the king no longer.” I turn to glare at him, and he stares daggers back at me. The young girl trembles, uncertain, so I place two fingers over my heart. “The wind at your back and fire in your chest.”
With a trembling hand, she repeats the gesture.
“Soft snow underfoot and a safe home awaiting you,” she whispers back, locking eyes with me.
“Run. Now.”
The young girl seizes her opportunity and flees. As soon as she is clear of the doors, I turn to the king.
“Guards!” he calls again angrily, but they hesitate, looking between Theo and me.
“Long have you sat over this town and these people like a dark cloud,” I say, taking a step towards him.
“Guards!” he makes another attempt, spittle flying from his lips as he takes a step back.
I raise my voice over his and keep walking forward.
“Long have you sat on a throne of malice and sadism.”
“Stop! Guards !”
I draw on my au’mana, raising my hands and allowing the purple smoke to swirl around my fingers.
“Too many women have found themselves at your mercy,” I hiss, and he stumbles back, falling with a cry. I stare down at him. “Too many people . Your wife. Your son. Your kingdom.”
I take a long breath, the deep well of au’mana at my fingertips. My ophid hums, warm and full.
Something slams into my spine, sending a sharp pain ricocheting through my ophid. I shriek and fall to my knees. My legs go numb.
“Shivani!” I hear Theo cry from behind me.
“Run, Your Highness!” a guard calls.
I glance up at his voice. The guard tries to haul the king to his feet, something shiny and metal in his hand. The tip is tinged with blood. My blood?
I desperately reach behind me, twisting my arm to touch my back. My hand comes back wet and sticky. Panic floods my brain. Theo’s hands scoop under my arms, trying to lift me up, but I cannot stand. His lips move, but the ringing in my ears drowns him out. I look behind him to see the king fleeing. He is going to get away.
No.
No .
My mind blanks. My ophid burns. My rage swells.
Au’mana, usually warm and sweet, courses through me like wildfire, sending every nerve alight. I send it to the great front doors of the castle and slam them shut before he can escape. Around me, the castle glows an angry, dark shade of purple. The colour of bruises and poison and wrath. The ground splinters and rises like tendrils, the walls snap and crack, writhing furiously. My heart thunders in my ears, and my skin burns. Theo steps back from me, his mouth open. When I turn to him, the muscles in my neck scream.
“Run,” I whisper.
He hesitates, and I send a fraction of my magic to the ground at his feet. It rumbles and moves like a snake beneath him, dragging him out of the hall and safely outside.
“Shivani!” he cries before the door slams shut again for the final time.
I turn to the king.
He and the guards stare at me, terrified and trembling. There is some part of me, deep in the back of my mind, wondering if I should feel pity. But I do not. There is only resentment and anger there. Dark purple seeps into the corners of my vision like storm clouds. My ophid pulses painfully from where I had been stabbed, and my rage grows, fuelling my au’mana. The castle rumbles and groans as it collapses around us. A chunk of the ceiling breaks loose, falling and shattering against the marble floor.
“Please!” the king cries out, his voice breaking with desperation. “Mercy!”
I clench my teeth.
“Your death will be the mercy this town deserves,” I spit.
I reach through the marble floor, splitting it with a crack. Broken pieces grab the king’s leg, forcing him to the ground.
“Morraine,” I whisper.
The marble swallows his other leg .
“Lucian.”
His arm sinks into the ground, held fast.
“Honora.”
The king cries out as his last free limb is pulled behind him, leaving him stuck and helpless.
“For all of us, you will know what it is to die alone.”
I flick my wrists, and the ceiling crumbles above us.
The king and his guards scream like trapped animals, wild and hoarse. I close my eyes and let the castle fall, silencing them forever.