He was making an example of Aflora. Using her provoked display of power as a platform to stand on in his war against Quandary Bloods and abominations.
An alarming fact that came to fruition as whispers cascaded around the ballroom, the mounting terror feeding into his performance.
This was the real show.
And Aflora responded to her role in kind as flames engulfed all the exits, her emotions driving her reaction, not logic.
There were too many innocents in this room.
If she exploded now, she would never be fit to lead, even under a new regime. Everyone would fear her, realize Constantine was right to abolish those with too much power, and we would suffer another thousand or more years of this imposed segregation.
Destroying Constantine and the Council was what I’d always desired, and Aflora could absolutely accomplish that in this state.
But it wasn’t the right way.
Now wasn’t the right time.
It wouldn’t be on Constantine Nacht’s terms but on ours. I couldn’t afford for him to use her as a pawn like this, not after everything else he’d done.
He would not win. Not this round. Not ever.
I ripped my watch off and engaged my mental connection to my mate.Aflora. You need to calm down. This is what Constantine wants. He’s going to use this episode as a platform to stand on in his quest to annihilate us all.
She didn’t reply, her concentration on the destruction growing inside her, that beautiful ball of cerulean energy mingling with green and purple and her earth.
Life and death.She was repeating the words in her head with another phrase.Create and destroy.
No, Aflora,I said, crawling over to her on the floor.
She’d fallen off her chair moments after chaos erupted in the source, and I hadn’t stood back up after Constantine had hit me with a spell. I’d been too dazed and confused by the descension of power to attempt to fight. My father had drilled strategy into my mind from a young age, a gift I was astutely thankful for right now.
I grabbed her wrist.Aflora.
Flames sprang up between us as she tried to shove me away with her cerulean WarFire. I inhaled the spell with my mind, dismantling it before she could burn me. Then I encircled us with an impenetrable bubble. Zephyrus fell inside it, my enchantment tied to those with Aflora’s best interests at heart—which apparently included him.
Fine.
He could stay.
“Help me,” I demanded, catching his gaze. “We need to ground her.”
I flinched as Constantine hit my shield with a spell meant to eat through the fabric of my outer layer. The source energy gave me momentary pause, my gaze sliding to his through the invisible barrier.
Then I caught the inky lines writhing across his skin, the dark source growing in him by the second, confirming his re-ascension. Only, it wasn’t the traditional form. No trials. No rituals. Just a call to the dark source to grant him access, to name him the rightful king.
And another piece of the puzzle snapped into place.
He was using this incident as a reason to retake the throne. He would claim Malik wasn’t powerful enough to stop Aflora, so he took over the mantle to protect his people.
A fantastic platform for a dictator.
All with Aflora at the heart of it. Then he’d use his newfound rise to power to call for mass extermination again, and this time, he would have the full backing of the people.
Fear was a motivator.
And Constantine was an expert manipulator.
I saw it all play out in my mind, his strategy masterful.
