Page 70 of A Court of Darkness and Dragons

The room was cavernous, lined with stone pillars that reached into vaulted shadows. The floor was slick marble veined in crimson, glowing, as though blood had been etched into the very stone. At the far end, raised on a dais, sat Veralin.

He lounged as if he had been waiting for us, his form both too vivid and too unreal, like staring at a man painted from darkness itself. His eyes glowed with cruel red light, and his throne, gods, it seemed alive. It pulsed with ancient wards, veins of blood magic weaving across its surface, breathing with him. The symbols carved into its arms glimmered, thrumming against the inside of my skull.

I froze, my breath catching as the key on its chain around my neck began to tingle—an almost electric vibration that traveled down my spine. My eyes caught on the throne again, and something shifted. Near Veralin’s head, carved into the black stone itself, a keyhole revealed itself. It hadn’t been there before. It glowed, the same crimson pulse as the key pressing against my chest.

My fingers curled around the chain instinctively.

The room didn’t look as I remembered it when I had come here before. The layout was wrong; the walls seemed newer, untouched. No collapsed stone, no cracks in the ceiling where sunlight had once broken through. He had cloaked everything in an illusion of perfection, as if this cursed hall were untouched by time or battle. But the keyhole was real. Its magic called to me in a way that no trick could replicate.

Veralin leaned forward on his throne, his cruel smile curling like smoke. “Ah, Granddaughter. At last, the key finds its way home.”

The wards pulsed harder; the chain burned against my skin, and I knew, whatever that lock was, it was meant for me.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

Itook a careful step away from the others, their eyes heavy on my back as I focused on my grandfather. I kept my gaze fixed on him, on the red flame that burned inside Veralin’s irises. Every instinct screamed at me to keep Zander at my side, to stay within Kaelith’s reach, but this… this was mine to face.

“How do you know I have a key?” My voice rang in the chamber, steadier than I felt.

His lips curved, slow and cruel. “Because I recognize its power.” His voice was smooth, velvet edged with razors, and it carried like a hymn through the vast room. “Forged in the days before this kingdom fell, before the dragons turned against their own. It is a relic of the Light Fae, born of sacrifice. They entrusted it to someone who would guard their last secret. Yet here it dangles from your neck as though it were a trinket.”

My fingers tightened around the chain. “What does it unlock?”

Veralin leaned back, resting his pale hand on the arm of his throne. The wards flared at his touch, crimson light racing along carved veins. “This throne, Granddaughter. The key fits here. It is nothing much, of course.” His smirk deepened, though a shadow of genuine surprise flickered across his face. “I had not thought the Light Fae so desperate as to place it in the hands of their enemy’s bloodline. A curious choice.”

“Nothing much?” I hissed, taking another step closer. His eyes tracked every movement. “You expect me to believe that? That the Light Fae sacrificed and bound their magic into this key so I could unlock nothing much?”

His smirk faltered, just a fraction, and I knew I’d struck truth under his lie.

“It has negligible power,” he said dismissively, but his gaze never left the chain in my hand. “Unlock the throne, gain nothing. What matters is who sits upon it. The rest is—decoration.”

I tilted my head, studying him the way Kaelith would stalk prey. “No. Whatever it unlocks, I’ll have it. All of it. Even if it means tearing it from under you.”

The smile fell from his mouth, and the throne behind him pulsed harder, its wards echoing like a second heartbeat through the room. His red eyes burned brighter.

Veralin rose slowly from the throne, each movement deliberate, as though the air itself bent to his command. The wards along the ancient seat flared brighter with his rise, casting the chamber in blood-light. His crimson eyes locked on me, gleaming with something between amusement and hunger.

“You wear the key, Granddaughter,” he said, his voice thick with promise. “It is not just a burden. It is your birthright. A claim to a realm that could be yours if you would only take it.”

He lifted a hand, and the surrounding room dissolved.

The cold stone, the blood-soaked wards, the stench of centuries—all gone. In its place sprawled a kingdom of black glass and silver fire. Towers taller than the skies of Warriath, rivers that glowed red with molten magic. And circling above, black dragons, hundreds, thousands, more than I had ever seen. Their scales shimmered like obsidian blades; their eyes locked on me as though waiting for a command.

“Look,” Veralin whispered, his voice carrying across the illusion like wind through the marrow of my bones. “This is what I offer you. A throne, a realm, a kingdom built on fire and shadow. You could strengthen them, the black dragons. Their line is broken, but with your power, your blood, they could rise fertile again. No longer cursed remnants, but a living army.”

The dragons roared, the sound rattling my chest, shaking the ground beneath me. One swooped low, so close I could see the jagged texture of its scales, the twisted bond of darkness shackled around its heart.

Veralin’s presence pressed against me, a weight behind my ribs. “I have held them for centuries, bound them to me through blood and bone. But you…” He stepped closer, his hand brushing the air just shy of my cheek. “You could make them stronger. You could give them what I cannot. Life. Continuity. Dominion over all but us.”

The illusion shifted, and I stood at the center of a black court, a crown of shadow settling across my head. Dragons bowed their heads, fae warriors dropped to one knee, and the land itself pulsed in rhythm with my heart.

“This is what you could be,” Veralin said, his smile as lethal as steel. “This is the truth of your blood. Not as a pawn to kings who fear you, not as a rider chained to one dragon, but as sovereign of them all.”

My hand flew to the key at my throat, as hot as fire now, burning against my skin. Could it be true? Could I…

Kaelith’s hiss lashed through my mind, jagged and furious. Do not listen. It is poison wrapped in silk. He shows you what he wants, not what is real.