Page 5 of Ignite the Infernos

“There’s no evidence of a weapon, which confirms what the feeds showed. Magic, either the Matron’s or Ever’s—perhaps even some combination of both—is what knocked everyone unconscious,” Lorn replies. “The Orics are combing through our records as we speak to see if anything like this has ever been recorded before.”

“So the Syphon was only after the Matron,” Commander Galerus notes.

Ventis scoffs and all eyes turn to her. “For all we know, what happened with the Matron was self-defense. Yes, the Syphon delivered the final blow, but all of us watched the Matron set some kind of trap and bait the girl. We’ll never know for sure with the sound being corrupted on the feeds, but we shouldn’t jump to conclusions one way or the other.”

I eye Ventis. I didn’t expect her of all people to speak in Ever’s defense. I have no idea what happened between them in the haptic simulator the other day, but something did. Whatever it was, it garnered Ever the support of one of The Horde’s fiercest commanders.

I blow out an aggravated breath, and a thin trail of smoke slips out with it. I shut it down before anyone notices. It seems my mate excelled at convincing others to let their guard down around her. She got to Ventis; how many others sitting around this table has she gotten to?

“We never should have trusted the Relacours. Not after the role they played in the rebellion,” Elio grumbles, and my father gives his third a censorious look.

It’s not the first time the two have gone back and forth about what to do with those linked to the rebellion. Of my father’s council, Elio is the least forgiving. I used to think the Burner was overly paranoid and bloodthirsty to a fault, but now I’m not so sure.

“We were facing attacks on all fronts after Merik died. I wasn’t going to gamble with the wards on the Fae Gate by altering the original seal,” my father asserts, his blue eyes glacial and his features hard.

Elio drops his gaze and offers a resolute nod.

“Now, it seems, we’ll have no choice,” Galerus points out, and once again the room goes silent as that reality settles in.

“Commander Zeir, I’m assigning you and your Flight to the Fae Gate,” my father orders resolutely. “It isn’t a question of if something is going to happen, but when. We need to be prepared. Lorn, once the commander is debriefed, I want you to return to the keep. The Blood Rite is around the corner, and we need to be vigilant. We have traitors in our midst and powers at play here that we didn’t anticipate. I don’t have to remind all of you what happened last time we found ourselves in this kind of a situation.”

His words send a wave of stubborn vehemence surging through the room. Everyone turns to my father with a singular vow burning in their eyes and radiating from their visages. What happened to King Tenebrae will not happen again.

The fury I’ve been doing a good job of stifling unfurls at the look on my father’s face. Worry and determination set his features, but it’s hardened by pain and loss. The fallout of what Ever’s done is taking an undeniable toll.

Kathal Noctis has a fortitude and vision that have helped The Horde recover, prosper, and thrive. His integrity is revered and something I strive to emulate, and yet I can see him questioning everything, wondering who to trust, and doubting which is the right path forward.

Ever Tenebrae’s mere existence has taken a wrecking ball to all of our foundations, and now she’s gone and done this. Fury feels like acid in my veins as I think about how she stomped all over our bond right before shoving a blade into the Matron’s heart. Then she ran and left the rest of us to clean up her mess. Ventis can give the Syphon the benefit of the doubt, but I was there. I begged Ever to listen, to trust me, to spare the Matron. She killed the Blood Crafter anyway.

“You all have your orders. You’re dismissed,” my father commands, the directive pulling me from my wandering thoughts and returning me to the ops room. “Lorn, Aeson, stay back, please.”

Khalil and Elio shoot my father a questioning look, but he doesn’t acknowledge their silent probing. Instead, he waits patiently while the room empties and the doors close. When it’s just me and my brother left, he exhales a long sigh and slouches in his chair at the head of the long onyx table. Lorn’s holoscreen floats off to the side, and we study my father as he runs a hand down his weary face. I fight the urge to drop my gaze and give my father’s vulnerability the privacy it deserves.

“Ever Tenebrae killed the Relacour Conduit,” he announces suddenly, offering nothing to soften the blow of his words. His statement is tipped with a razor-sharp fury my father doesn’t often let out of its cage, and warning crawls up my limbs and curls around my nape.

Lorn and I know better than to say anything. Our father will explain what he wants, when he wants, and nothing we do or say will speed it along or coax more out of him than what he’s already decided to share. So we wait.

“There’s an extensive history lesson in what I’m about to tell you, my sons. One that we don’t have time to get into, but know the information I’m sharing isn’t common knowledge and it needs to be kept that way.”

He looks to Lorn and then me, waiting for us both to nod our understanding before he goes on.

“Like the vampires, the sorcai have a progenitor fail-safe built into each bloodline of magic. It’s had different names throughout history, but in this day and age, it’s referred to as a Conduit. Kill the Conduit, and you kill the line of magic.”

A high-pitched ringing starts in my ears and my vision tunnels.

Kill the Conduit, and you kill the line of magic.

An angry drum sets the pace of my pounding heart, and my scale armor ripples with the urge to shift, fly, and burn. The true magnitude of what Ever has done and how she’s fucked us over settles through me, and I don’t know if my fury is aimed at her betrayal or at myself for not stopping it.

“This is why Drazyn can’t find a Relacour Blood Crafter that’s still alive,” my father continues gravely. “Their Conduit has died . . . and the rest have fallen like dominoes.”

“How the fuck—” Lorn starts.

But I tune him out and shove away from the table, needing to move so I don’t lose my shit entirely.

“Let me get this straight,” I growl, interrupting whatever my brother is saying and leveling my father with a thunderous glare. “You made a deal with my mate, behind my back, which gave her access to the one person who could take out the entire bloodline needed to keep the wards intact on the Fae Gate?”

“Not exactly,” he corrects with an annoying amount of composure. “When I became king and was entrusted with this information, it was recorded that the Relacour Conduit was someone else. I did not know the Matron was the fail-safe. I would have done things very differently if I had.”