Page 20 of The Reckoning of Starlight

“I sent them to the portal waystations,” he said, too quickly, the words tripping over one another. “I didn’t oversee the dispatch to Elashor myself.”

“That tells me nothing.” Lykor shoved to his feet.

“Elashor…” Saundyl swayed on his knees, sand pasted to his soaked armor. “He’s spread thin. Campaigning across the new lands. I don’t know where. He moves often—”

Lykor lashed another whip of shadow toward the female.

Saundyl flung himself forward, fingers clawing at Lykor’s boots. “Please. I don’t know where Elashor is. I only know the transfer orders go through Kyansari. Portal schedules. Soldier rotations. Artifact ledgers. Prisoner manifests. Reports back to the king. All of it.” His breath hitched. “If Elashor moved your people again, the record will be there. I don’t—”

Lykor kicked him off. “The capital?”

The most fortified city in all the realms. And this sniveling prince of Vaelyn was pointing him straight at Galaeryn’s throne.

Too convenient.

Either Saundyl had given him the truth, or he was steering Lykor into a trap.

Lykor flicked a glance at Vesryn, but Vesryn shook his head. “I don’t know which direction they were sent. I lost sense of them before…”

He didn’t finish. Didn’t say before the bond with Jassyn snapped.

“They were alive?” Lykor demanded. “When you portaled them?”

Saundyl nodded, frantic. “Yes. Please. My family—I told you everything I know.”

“Not enough.”

Lykor stalked across the courtyard toward the female and child. He’d noticed the weakness the instant he dragged Saundyl into the square—the way the male’s face had gone slack with terror at the sight of them.

That was where to twist the knife.

The infant’s cheek was tucked to the female’s shoulder, one tiny hand reaching blindly for the rending coiled at her throat. Before those fingers touched the shadows, Lykor unwound the nearest thread—just enough to keep his magic out of reach.

Behind him, Saundyl’s voice broke. “Take me instead!”

Lykor halted. Frost cracked across his knuckles, fingers curling into fists. Slowly, he turned.

The prince of Vaelyn had thrown himself forward again, hands outstretched.

“Your life only matters while you’re useful,” Lykor growled. He leveled one talon at the female and child. “Theirs do not.”

Saundyl’s voice pitched higher. “I had no choice! I’ll tell you everything. Portal routes. Orders to mobilize the human army. The crater where Elashor is mining artifacts. Centarya’s defenses. The shamans in the north.” His hands shook in the air. “Just, please…”

He could’ve reached for Essence. For earth. Instead, Saundyl kept those empty hands raised, surrendering while his family watched. He swallowed. “Please don’t hurt them.”

Lykor ground his teeth until blood warmed the back of his mouth.

Behind him, Vesryn didn’t intervene. He could see the blade had been brandished, not swung.

And Saundyl offered to throw secrets down like it might buy his family time.

Lykor reached for Aesar in the space between them, where he should’ve been pacing through his library—furious enough to curse him, clever enough to know which parts were a performance.

But the library was dark, his mind a muted presence.

Aesar would’ve known what mattered. Which thread to pull. Which answer was useful, which was meant to mislead.

Without him, Lykor could only discern one thing.