Damn him.
I didn’t dare say it aloud—not here, not now. Ashton lounged across his throne wearing his power like silk. Beside him stood Vasquez, practically vibrating with anticipation, fingers steepled like some grotesque conductor awaiting the overture of suffering. A small contortion of sycophants flanked the dais, their smiles thin and eyes eager. They were here for blood. For performance. Ashton looked positively delighted.
Not for the first time, I hated him.
Slade approached, his jaw set and expression dark.
“How is she?” I asked, low enough to keep it between us.
He jerked his chin toward the corridor just beyond the archway. Elira was walking toward us, framed by Leo on one side and Phoenix on the other. A strange, quiet symmetry. Her shoulders were tight, movements sharp with tension—but she moved. That was something.
“Scared,” Slade muttered. “Didn’t sleep.”
“You watched her?” I asked, glancing sideways at him.
He gave a reluctant grunt in reply, but I didn’t miss the way his gaze shifted—already locked on her again. As though she pulled gravity in her wake. As though something about her cracked through whatever armour he’d worn for years.
He wasn’t alone in that.
I met her clear blue-eyed gaze as she approached. They narrowed at my appearance. I almost smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes.
The girl truly hated me.
I watched Leo lean in, his voice a low murmur in her ear, his posture solid and protective. She stiffened at first, but then reached up and touched his arm, the gesture soft, almost absent. She wasn’t even aware of it, I could tell. The way her fingers lingered spoke more than her words ever could.
They stopped just before me, grim expressions replacing whatever small flicker of warmth they might have shared. Leo's gaze was cold now, unreadable. He released her to me, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary before he let go.
Elira took a deep breath, steadying herself, like she was preparing for the inevitable. A reluctant warrior bracing for a battle she had no choice but to face.
Her eyes met mine for the briefest second, and I saw the flicker of defiance—a spark still burning deep inside her. I was almost impressed. Almost.
I had no intention of extinguishing it... not yet.
“Are you ready?” I asked, my voice sharper than I wanted.
“No,” she admitted quietly, but her shoulders squared with a quiet defiance.
“Just follow my lead,” I murmured, placing a steadying hand at the small of her back as I guided her toward the massive double doors.
The grand hall beyond was thick with tension, the air cold and perfumed with sickening incense. A low murmur ran throughthe cotillion of courtiers like wind through dry grass—waiting, eager, watching.
Elira stepped ahead of me, her curls pulled back in a tight ponytail that did nothing to diminish her wild beauty. There was something stark about her today—like a storm building behind a polished sky. Her simple shirt and fitted pants hugged her form, making her look both practical and unmistakably striking. The soft glow of her skin looked washed out beneath the chandeliers, but her eyes—those fierce, untamed eyes—refused to dim.
She stood before the throne like a soldier on the edge of battle.
Ashton leaned forward, draped across his gilded seat like a man too used to power, too smug in the way he wielded it. His crown sat crooked on his golden hair, his fingers adorned with heavy rings that clicked softly against his goblet. He eyed Elira slowly—devouring her with his gaze—then licked his lips, obscene and unhurried.
“Well,hellothere,” he purred, his voice like oil over wine.
My jaw tensed.
“Your Majesty,” I said tightly, forcing the words through my teeth. “May I present Elira… our new shadowmancer.”
The room held its breath.
Ashton’s eyes gleamed like a predator sighting blood. “So, this is the girl who commands the void,” he said, leaning forward, his smile sharp and humourless. “She’s even more exquisite than I imagined. Tell me, darling—” he flicked his fingers lazily, dismissing a nearby attendant—“do you understand what a rare gift you’ve been born with?”
Elira didn’t answer right away. Her hands were balled at her sides, her chin raised with steel in it.
