“I understand that it makes people want to use me,” she said coolly.
There was a ripple of shock through the gathered nobles. I bit back a smirk.
The king only chuckled. “Oh, I like her.” He stood slowly, descending from his throne like a spider descending from its web.
“Believe me the feeling is not mutual,” Elira growled under her breath. If the king heard, he chose not to notice.
“My, she is a pretty thing. Tell me Thorne, why have you dressed my newest prize in such rags?”
I schooled my expression. “She is a trainee Shade. This is the uniform.”
“Ah, but she is so much more than that. Next time you bring her before me I expect a costume much more fitting, is that clear?”
I clenched my jaw. “As you wish sire.”
“I’m not a toy for you to play with,sire,” Elira spat, venom curling around the word like smoke.
I winced inwardly at her defiance—bold, reckless, and beautifully foolish.
“What she means, Your Majesty,” Leo cut in smoothly, stepping forward with a low bow, “is that she does not seek special treatment. She only wishes to serve the crown with clarity and purpose.”
He shot Elira a sharp, warning glance, subtle but clear enough to silence a lesser soul.
Phoenix stood just behind her, his posture deceptively relaxed but his eyes alert. The moment Elira opened her mouth again,Phoenix pressed a firm hand against the small of her back. A silent plea for restraint.
“That’s not—” Elira began, her voice rising.
Phoenix jabbed her lightly in the ribs.
She snapped her mouth shut, glaring daggers at him.
I moved forward, placing myself slightly in front of her, blocking the king’s view of her expression before he could decide to punish her for it.
But Ashton only smiled. That cold, leering smile of a man who believed he had already won.
“You misunderstand your position,” he said, descending the steps from his throne with theatrical grace. “You are not here to speak, little shadow. You are here todemonstrate.”
He stopped just before me, gaze locked on Elira over my shoulder.
“Consider this your first lesson,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “I don’t tolerate rebellion. But I do reward performance.” He made a signal to the doorway and a door opened.
A servant rolled in a bound figure—hooded, gagged, and trembling. A prisoner.
“Show me what you can do.”
I saw Elira’s spine stiffen. She turned to glance at me, a silent, searching look—like she wanted me to say it wasn’t real.
I couldn’t.
“Bring forth your shadows,” Ashton commanded, his tone hardening with cruel amusement. “Make himfeelit. Show us what you can do.”
“Sire—” I began before I could stop myself.
“Quiet.” Ashton’s voice cracked like a whip. He didn’t even look at me when he said it—he didn’t have to. The weight of the crown made his commands feel law-bound. My jaw locked, every instinct screaming to step between them.
Elira didn’t flinch. Her eyes darkened, shadows pooling faintly in the hollows of her cheeks, like they were responding to her pulse, to her rage. “And if I refuse?” she asked, softly, but every syllable was a blade.
Ashton leaned back with theatrical ease, smugness painting every line of his face. “You won’t,” he said simply, as if her rebellion amused him. “Because deep down, I think you’re just like the rest of us. Hungry. Angry. And curious to see what your powerfeelslike when it’s real.”
