Page 40 of Blade of the Nightking

This was not Solmire. There were no gardens here. No bath houses. No leisurely beauty meant to impress or soothe. This was a city built to forge soldiers, to house bodies meant for war.

We crossed a stone bridge spanning the chasm. Below, a vast training ground lay open to the heat rising from the Vein. The air shimmered. Soldiers filled the space in perfect formation, sweat beading on their skin as they moved in flawless unison.

Males and females trained together, indistinguishable in discipline and strength. The females’ heads were shaved clean, their hair cropped close to the scalp, just like the males. As they moved, runes beneath their skin lit along their cheeks and throats, glowing faintly with each exertion, as they practiced drills.

The exercises were brutal, a seamless blend of punishing physical exertion and controlled fire magic. Flames flared and vanished in rhythm with their movements, shaped and recalled with practiced ease.

At the center stood a commander. The runes beneath his skin flared, and instantly the entire formation shifted direction.

Another flare of runic light. Again, the soldiers changed course.

They moved as one, bodies turning, fire answering, every motion precise and synchronized with unnerving perfection.

“Is he…” My voice came out thin. “Is he controlling them?”

Hamish glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Yes." He paused at the railing, giving me a moment to watch. "Though they're allotted a measure of autonomy during certain exercises to train reaction times and judgment, in case their commander is killed."

I stared at the scene below, my stomach tight. “Why would anyone choose to do this?”

Hamish didn’t hesitate. “Most don’t choose.”

I turned to him.

“They’re conscripted,” he continued. “All faeries, usually with little or no innate magic.” His tone remained steady, untroubled. “It’s considered a great honor. They’re given a purpose. A role to defend the Court.”

“But the beads…”

“They grant power.” I caught the faintest note of yearning in his tone. “Power they would never have otherwise.”

He stepped away from the railing and motioned for me to continue with him.

“The commanders are beaded too,” I pointed out. “Who do they answer to?”

His knuckles blanched at his sides. “Sairus.”

I noticed he didn’t call him father.

“Is that wise?” I gaped. “For Sairus to control Aedric’s army when he contested his rule in the first place?”

Hamish turned toward me, his expression hardening. "Let me be clear. Aedric may have entrusted Sairus with command of the army, but all magic in this Court answers to Aedric. The fire that rises from the Vein is his to command."

My brows shot up. That was more power than I had understood him to hold. I knew Aedric was formidable, but to command a force of nature itself?

My gaze drifted past the platform, down into the abyss where the river of fire roared as it wound through the depths.

“How can anyone harness that?” I whispered.

“The Binding Rite,” Hamish said evenly.

“The what?”

“A successor to the seat submits to it in order to become High Lord,” he explained. “Has Aedric never spoken of it?”

I shook my head, curiosity sharpening.

“Don’t give me that look—it’s no secret,” Hamish’s smile was subtle. “Every High Lord and High Lady undergoes a version of it to claim their Court.”

“So what is it?”