Page 22 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

And they were far too close.

Chapter

Seven

Meri’s hands hovered over Theron’s chest, her fingers trembling slightly as light gathered between her palms—warm, golden, and pulsing like a heartbeat. The glow spread slowly over his skin, curling down his neck, across his arms. It shimmered along the veins in his throat like sunlight on water.

I felt it. The hum of her healing magic brushing against the edge of my own power, drawing something ancient from the surrounding air. It was softer than Kaelith’s fire, more focused than mine. Watching her work was like watching a song being sung directly into the bones.

And it soothed me.

My breath slowed. My nerves quieted. I hadn’t realized how tight my chest had been until that moment, until the magic began to do what it was meant to do. Heal.

Zander stood silent beside me, arms crossed but tense, his gaze locked on his brother’s still face.

Minutes passed. Meri’s power flared again, brighter this time, sweat breaking across her brow. She swayed slightly, but didn’t stop. Not until she was forced to.

Finally, with a soft gasp, she slumped back on her heels. Her face pale, lips tight with exhaustion.

“That’s all I can do for now,” she murmured. “He’ll live… but he’ll tire easily. The poison lingers in his blood.”

As if on cue, Theron stirred.

His chest hitched. Then, a ragged, wheezing sound escaped his throat.

His eyes opened. They were bloodshot, watery, and locked onto Zander. His lips barely moved, but the word came out, anyway.

“Traitor.”

Zander didn’t flinch. “Who did this?” he asked coldly. “Who poisoned you?”

Theron’s gaze shifted to me, then back to his brother. I saw it then, just a flicker, but it was there.

Fear.

Zander took a step forward. “Your bid for power has failed,” he said, voice steady and cutting. “No one will follow you now. The crown belongs to Dorian.”

He crouched beside the bed, his expression harder than I’d seen it in weeks.

“Now tell me,” Zander said, each word forceful. “Who poisoned you? Who were you working with?”

Theron’s cracked lips parted.

“I demand royal immunity,” he rasped.

Zander’s jaw ticked, his body so still it made the air feel heavier.

He didn’t look at me, didn’t blink. But his voice, when it came, was as smooth as glass drawn over a blade.

“I will guarantee you don’t spend any time in a dungeon,” he said, leaning slightly closer to his brother. “You’ll live in the luxury you deserve.”

Theron gave a weak nod, the flicker of pride still buried somewhere in his battered expression. “It was Inderia,” he rasped.

I stiffened.

“She asked me to meet her here,” Theron continued, each word a breathless struggle. “She… inferred we were to practice for our wedding night. But she fed me wine. Grapes. Sweet words. I thought—” He coughed, a wet, ragged sound. “I thought she was choosing me.”

Zander’s face paled. “Inderia?”