Page 28 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

Like ink in water, her image unraveled—eyes glowing too bright, skin paling, warping, twisting. Her hair lightened to a shade too white to be natural, and her soft features sharpened into something cold, regal, and terrible.

Severeth stood before us, in the place Veyna had once been.

Tall. Inhuman. Radiating magic that felt like rot beneath silk. Her presence suffocated the air itself, and her gaze gleamed with centuries of cruel calculation.

“Where is Veyna?!” I demanded, my voice cracking, my body trembling even as I took a step forward.

Severeth laughed—truly laughed. It echoed through the courtyard like breaking glass.

Shouts echoed around us, but Zander motioned for the other riders to stay back.

“Veyna is a figment of my imagination,” she purred. “A clever ruse, if I say so myself. I must admit, I was rather fond of her. She had your eyes.”

“No,” I breathed. “Why? Why do this?”

Severeth turned to me fully, her cloak swirling like mist behind her. “Because,” she said sweetly, “you told Veralin it could take fifty years for the wards to finally fail. Fifty years of waiting. Of hiding. And we were so close.”

Her eyes pulsed, a terrible red sheen lighting them from within.

“I decided it was worth sacrificing the child-hostage to kill the remaining warders myself.”

I choked on a breath.

“They are delicious,” she added with a grin, her teeth now too sharp. “So much power locked in such soft flesh.”

Remy, frozen beside me, stared at her—at her—his face pale with disbelief.

“This… isn’t possible,” he whispered.

Severeth’s gaze slid toward him with serpentine ease. Her expression softened.

“Ah, Remy.” She stepped toward him with grace, like a predator indulging a final kill. “Of all of them, I must say… I enjoyed you the most.”

Remy took a step back.

“Perhaps,” Severeth said, tilting her head, “we may continue our relationship after I take control of Warriath.”

Her smile widened.

And the sky felt just a little closer to falling.

Chapter

Nine

Iturned to Remy, the air between us brittle with horror, disbelief choking every word I tried to form.

“You slept with Severeth?” I asked, my voice jagged, torn between anger and revulsion. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Remy’s face twisted in sheer panic. “No—No way,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if he could physically shake the image from his mind. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t! I thought she was your sister. Veyna. I would never⁠—”

But Severeth laughed.

Gods, that laugh. Velvet and venom.

“Actually,” she purred, “you did.”

And then—she shifted again.