Looks like Draevyn’s training was useful after all.She rolled her eyes at the thought, not wanting to give the bastard credit for anything.
Elowynne gritted her teeth, her chest rising and falling in rapid breaths as her wild eyes searched for an escape. She bent down and quickly swiped a decorative blade from the fallen guard’s sheath, slashing it forward.
Esmyra leaned back, the blade slicing a lock of her silver hair as she twisted away. She responded with a low kick that knocked Elowynne’s legs out from under her.
The queen let out a gasp as her body slammedonto the floor, dropping her weapon. With a cry, she rolled and kicked up, catching Esmyra in the ribs.
Pain roiled through Esmyra as her breath rushed from her lungs, but it only made her angrier. “Oh, you stupid bitch,” she said with a sharp cackle. Their eyes locked, and water spiraled up from the edges of Esmyra’s cloak, forming thin slicing whips in the air.
Elowynne scrambled back, eyes wide as Esmyra advanced, magic dancing like serpents at her sides.
“I tried to show you mercy,” she growled, kicking aside the elven’s blade. “But now I’ll just take what I came for.”
The water surged forward—one tendril wrapping tightly around Elowynne’s wrist, then the other around her ankle. The queen gasped as she was slammed back into the stone floor. She writhed against the liquid binds, but they only constricted further, climbing her limbs like vines and pinning her down.
“Fighting me was a mistake,” Esmyra murmured, crouching beside her now.
She gripped Elowynne’s wrist, and with her other hand, she reached into her pocket to reveal the velsinyte ring she stole—or cut off—the guard.
“Give up, gorgeous.” Esmyra pried the queen’s hand open and slipped the ring onto her finger.
The air rushed out of Elowynne’s lungs as the metal slid over her skin. Esmyra recalled the feeling of velsinyte and the instant loss of power as that golden light left the elven’s eyes.
“You’ll never make it out of here,” she spat as she kicked and thrashed, but the binds held firm.
“I already have,” Esmyra whispered, leaning in close. She pulled her hood back on as her silver hair hung like a curtain between them. “And now I’m taking you with me.”
Returning the favor, Esmyra then sent her fist into Elowynne’s cheek, knocking her unconscious.
With a sweep of her arm, the watery tendrils lifted the queen from the floor. As Esmyra moved back into the mist-chokedcorridor, Elowynne was helplessly dragged behind her, bringing her back toThe Night Wraith.
CHAPTER 22
Atlas
Atlas stood near his balcony doors, his ceremonial jacket half-unfastened. The new weight of the crown still echoed at the base of his skull, even though it no longer sat on his head. His hands gripped a glass of untouched whiskey, and his gaze was lost in the quiet swirl of mist creeping up the cliffs beyond the castle.
The day wasfinallyover. The funeral. The coronation. The new form of power they showed off to the lords of Lephyrin, promising a better, more prosperous future under his reign.
All of it sat heavy in his gut.
The creak of his chamber doors sounded, followed by light footfalls, but he didn’t turn. He closed his eyes briefly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.
“You’re up late,” Atlas said, trying to keep his voice even. “I thought you’d already turned in after the ball.”
Elowynne didn’t answer immediately, but he listened to the soft rustle of her gown as she crossed the room. “I could say the same to you.”
He finally turned to face her, offering a tired smile. “It was a long day.” He blew out a breath, his thumb nail picking at the glass in his hand. “The speeches, the crown, the pressure to look like a ruler andnot a fucking wreck. And, of course, my brother—” Atlas cut himself off with a quiet sigh, dragging a hand through his hair.
Elowynne took a step closer, her head cocking to the side. “What about him?”
“I know him. I know Draevyn better than anyone,” Atlas started. “And the bastard lied through his godsdamn teeth tonight.”
Elowynne’s lips parted. “What do you think he lied about?”
Atlas’s eyes narrowed. “You were there, Wynne. Whatdidn’the lie about?” He threw his whiskey to the back of his throat, stormed across the space, and slammed the glass down on the fireplace mantel. “He told me he forgave me. I almost believed him.Almost.”
His eyes met hers across the room. “You saw it. The way he looked at me during the coronation. It was like he wanted to melt the damn crown on my head.”
