Page 19 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

The pool was dying. The warders were dying.

And something inside this castle was making sure they never saw it coming.

I knelt beside the body, the stone floor cold beneath my knees. The man’s expression was peaceful—too peaceful, and that only made it worse. Like he’d never had a chance to fight. Like death had stolen in while he slept.

“Who was he?” I asked, voice hushed.

Quinn stepped forward slowly, wringing his hands in front of him. “His name was Dareth Wynn. He was the senior warder here. He used to oversee the binding stones.”

“Did he ever mention being threatened?” Zander asked from behind me, still watching the body like it might suddenly speak.

Quinn shook his head. “No. But he’d been… tired. Not just physically. Spiritually. Said he could feel the pool weakening every time he touched it.”

I leaned in closer, frowning as my gaze caught something near the base of Dareth’s neck, half-hidden by the collar of his tunic. A faint, inky smear. Not a bruise. Not blood. A mark.

Like smoke had kissed his skin and stayed.

“Quinn, was this here before?” I asked, reaching out but stopping just short of touching it.

He stepped closer and paled. “No. No, that… what is that?”

Kaelith, I called silently.

She responded instantly, her magic coiling through our bond and rushing forward like a warm wind in my blood. Her senses brushed against mine, then stretched outward, touching the room, the body, the stain.

A low, rumbling growl echoed in my mind.

Dark magic, she hissed. That mark isn’t residue. It’s a scar. His life force was consumed, drained, not ended. Someone fed from him.

My stomach turned. Like the veil...

I looked up at Zander. “His life force was drained.”

Zander’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he rose to his full height. “His death is different from the others; they were murdered but not drained.”

I nodded, my fingers curling into the edge of Dareth’s cloak. “We have another traitor, and this one is using dark magic.”

Quinn hovered near the body, eyes wide, hands fidgeting with the hem of his tunic like he didn’t know what to do with them. He looked younger now, more fragile without the strength of his magic fully behind him.

“What should I do?” he asked quietly, looking first to me, then to Zander. “The only other warder left is Fenn, and he’s barely been through a single full cycle. We’re both novices. Dareth was the one who knew the deeper threads of the pool.”

Zander turned toward him, eyes still edged with anger—but his voice came steady. Controlled. Regal.

“I’m acting regent in my father’s absence,” he said. “Effective immediately, you’re to have two guards with you at all times. The same goes for Fenn. I don’t care what the court says; the remaining warders are now under royal protection.”

Quinn’s eyes widened. He straightened as if someone had just set a crown on his shoulders. “Thank you, my prince.”

Zander shook his head, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “You call me Zander, Quinn. You’ve earned that right.”

My heart warmed at the exchange, and I smiled gently at Quinn. He didn’t return it, but he nodded once, his eyes brighter now, steadier.

Zander turned then, calling to a nearby guard standing rigid at the doorway. “You—go to the Ascension Grounds. Inform Thrall Squad to assemble and report to the tower. We’re going to search the entire castle. Every corridor. Every hidden stair. I want this killer found.”

The guard saluted sharply. “Yes, Prince Rayne,” and sprinted off down the stairs without hesitation.

As the footsteps faded, I looked once more at the dark mark curling along Dareth Wynn’s neck.

Whoever did this wasn’t just killing.