Page 11 of Veil of Night & Flames

“This?”

“Walking with me to the throne room. Presenting me to Adric. I wanted—” Her voice broke. “I wanted you to know you were part of this. That I’m not letting you go.” Her mouth quirked in a lopsided smile. “I didn’t mean for it to hurt.”

“It doesn’t,” he lied. “Not if you still love me.”

She pulled him to a stop, just long enough to cup his cheek. “I’ve told you a million times. You know I do.” The words were firm, and he believed them. What he didn’t know—the question that haunted him—was whether he was the only man she loved. She said he was, and he wanted to be. God, how he wanted that. But he feared that soon her answer would change, and she would truly belong to Adric, too, and not just because of a ceremony.

As they emerged from the corridor into the Great Hall, everyone turned to see the woman who would be queen. Servants pressed themselves against the walls as they passed. A scullery maid carrying an armful of linens dropped them and bowed. Two guards in obsidian armor snapped to attention. He recognized them as Kali’s men, and yet they were bowing to Cora.

The sight disturbed him. The castle held danger—most of it flowing from or around Kali. If her people were deferring to Cora…well, that might ruffle Kali’s feathers.

And if it didn’t ruffle those feathers…well, that was dangerous, too.

Cora’s grip went tight enough to bruise a mortal.

“Chase.” Her voice was barely a thread.

“I’m here. I love you.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I love you, too. The irony is I did this for you.”

“I know,” he said. But he also knew that she’d wanted it, too. Not the pomp and circumstance, but the man. His brother.

She’d told him that, of course. But he’d seen beyond those words to the depth of her desire—a desire for the very man who had split the Guardian and betrayed Chase in the most violent of ways.

And now here he was, on his way to give Cora to that man.

He pulled her to a stop a few meters from the throne room, wanting nothing more than to tell her to flee with him. Instead, he did his duty. “Are you ready?”

She straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Are you?”

He hesitated. He was a long way from ready. But he could do the hard thing. After all, he’d been doing hard things for millennia.

“Ready,” he said, then led her to the vaulted entry, the doors already flung wide.

Beyond them, the throne room had been transformed. Banners of silver and burgundy hung from the ceiling. The massive fireplace blazed with silver flames. Adric’s courtiers had assembled, and now dozens lined the walls, some in armor, some in robes, some appearing human, others not. A few inclined their heads as Cora passed. Others stared with the fixed attention of predators noticing prey.

At the far end, across the sea of flagstone, Adric waited on the raised dais.

The stained-glass moons arched behind him, casting a colorful glow across the room. He was dressed in black, his coat of shadows rippling around him. His eyes were fixed on the doorway.

On Cora.

The expression on his face was one Chase had never seen on his brother. Not in all the millennia they’d shared. Not in all the wars and betrayals and silences between them.

It was reverence.

Chase felt Cora shift beside him, as if somewhere deep inside her, something had risen up. Acceptance, he thought. Maybe even eagerness.

His gut clenched. He’d lost her.

Had he lost her?

He could still leave.

The thought hit hard. He could turn right now. Drop her hand, stride out the way they’d come, and damn the universe for what came next.

Except he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not because he couldn’t live without her—he’d survived worse than this—but because leaving her wouldn’t end what was between them. It would only mean she walked into Adric’s throne room alone.