Page 123 of She Who Holds My Wrath

“That is Korithax,” I say softly, eyes fixed on him. “He is safe.”

She recoils in shock. King Korithax? Her voice shifts with disbelief. How so? I felt your grief. He died.

“He’s back,” I whisper. “Changed… but back.”

Korithax tilts his head, confusion furrowing his brow as he watches us. Wind tugs through his dark hair, the dawn painting the sharp lines of his face in gold and shadow.

I feel that change, Vesindiyah growls. It is not of this world. And it has very evil intentions.

Korithax steps forwards, but Vesindiyah lowers her head with a warning rumble that shakes in my chest.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, pressing my palm against the warm, rigid scales of her leg. “I promise.”

Her body is hot beneath my hand, vibrating with restrained violence.

“I would never hurt her,” Korithax says, raising both palms. His voice is calm, but I hear the hurt beneath it. “I just wanted to make sure she was okay. I saw her run out here.”

She is always okay with me, Vesindiyah declares proudly. Child of Ruin.

Korithax’s eyes widen, his jaw going slack.

I stare at him. “Did you hear her?”

He nods once, still looking stunned. For a moment, something like wonder cuts through all the darkness clinging to him.

Vesindiyah steps back, wings unfurling in a vast crimson sweep that blots half the sunrise. Remember Sunshine Queen, she says as she lifts into the sky, dawn fully breaking behind her. I will ride with you when the time comes. Only you.

Then she launches skywards in a blast of wind and earth, soaring into the brightening morning until she becomes nothing more than a streak of red against the sun.

I’m pacing anxiously up and down my room, my boots echoing against the stone floor as Korithax sits stiffly on the edge of my bed.

He watches me with weary, shadowed eyes, his posture too rigid, like he’s bracing for something horrific. I mean, he wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve not spoken a word since Vesindiyah left. How could I? He’s finally decided to let Aran close. Finally let me close—even if only for a little while. Telling him now could send him spiralling straight back into isolation—or worse. This must be what it means to be queen. Carrying the weight alone, even when it feels far too heavy for one heart to hold.

I need answers. Knowledge. Something solid to cling to before fear swallows me whole. Maybe Lyvia will know of something. Old texts in Sovarith, forgotten records buried beneath centuries of dust. There has to be something written about ancient Særathi beasts. Vesindiyah at least knew of a way to kill the Vorrythael. Which means knowledge survived somewhere.

And if the Abyr’Veth—the World-Eater—was destroyed once before, then there has to be a way to do it again. There has to be.

Korithax’s deep voice rumbles through the chamber. “Daisy, please tell me what she said.”

I shake my head, gnawing nervously at the skin of my thumb until the faint taste of copper blooms across my tongue.

He exhales and stands, crossing the room in two long strides before stepping directly into my path. Gently, he hooks a finger beneath my chin, tipping my face up until my gaze meets his. His onyx eyes search mine, so full of concern.

“I can handle it,” he says quietly.

I breathe out slowly. “She said ancient beasts have returned. Or… resurrected.” My voice wavers. “Large creatures called Vorrythael.”

His brow furrows as he releases my chin. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“They’re not of this world,” I say. “But they’re powerful.”

I tell him everything. About their sonar, their magic-suppressing abilities, the fracture points in their scales. How Vesindiyah said they could be killed. But I leave out the World-Eater. Just thinking its name makes my stomach churn. I can’t say it yet. I’m not sure I ever want to.

He sinks back on the edge of the bed, dragging a hand down his face as he lets out a harsh breath. “They’re really stopping at nothing, are they?”

I shake my head and resume pacing, anxiety coiling tighter with every step.

After a moment, his hand shoots out, catching my wrist. He tugs gently, pulling me between his legs. Even seated, I still have to tilt my head up to meet his gaze.