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I move back to the desk, eyes once again catching the key. I pick it up, turning it in my hand, tracing every etched line and mark. The weight of it feels heavy and ancient. Then I shove it deep into my pocket. A new beginning as the ruler of all the slayers. The entire Academy is finally, rightfully mine.

I helped Silas oversee most of it once, years ago. I knew the networks, the contacts, the clients who sent their quiet, desperate requests. But that was only the surface.

Something tells me Silas had deeper arrangements, darker ones, far more complicated deals with royals, agreements I was never meant to see.

By now, the king will know his brother is dead. He’ll know I’m the one who killed him.

Chapter seventeen

Fiction or History?

Hearing the key click in the lock of my new chamber solidifies all that is now mine. I make my way down the winding staircase of the Academy, the stone cold beneath my boots. Each step echoes, the sound ricocheting off the curved walls.

My cloak trails behind me, brushing softly against centuries old carved stone. The air here is heavy with a lingering staleness that never quite leaves these halls no matter how often they’re scrubbed.

I pull my hood up, letting shadow swallow my face. At the bottom of the staircase, a thin line of light spills from beneath the main chamber door.

I push the door open slightly. The room is immaculate, the stone freshly polished just as in Silas’s study. Under the spot I pinned Silas’s son to, where blood pooled thick and dark, is pristine.

As I step through the doorway, I see two dozen slayers in the common area, young and old. Some faces are familiar, some are new. The moment I enter, the room silences. Heads turn sharply, eyes narrowing, hands freezing mid-motion.

They’d been eating, laughing, looking at each other’s blood marks. Mundane chaos, until me. They stare, waiting, measuring the situation. I stay in the doorway, cloak pooling around me, standing tall and unflinching.

Then, one by one, they rise from their seats only to drop to their knees, bowing their heads low. A ripple of motion spreads across the room until every slayer kneels. It’s an old tradition, an oath of silence when a leader enters. In my time at the Academy I had to bow to Silas. I feel the instinct to join the slayers on the floor before remembering that I’m the one they’re bowing to.

For a moment, I forget to breathe. I should say something, anything, but I’m too busy trying to understand how this feels. Silas’s blood is barely dry, and yet they’re here, kneeling to me. Maybe they hated him just as much as I did.

I walk forward, my boots echoing against the stone, their heads still lowered as I move to the center of the room. The fire crackles beside me, its heat licking at my skin, grounding me in the present. I unsheathe a dagger and twirl it between my fingers.

“As you all know, Silas is gone.” My voice carries easily in the silence. I half turn toward the fire, watching the flames twist and snap. “And so are his ways. His cruelty, his corruption, his unspeakable acts against women, and his slaughter of innocents.”

Not a soul moves. No one even dares to lift their head. “Things will be different under my rule,” I continue. “We will no longer spill innocent blood because one man demands it in the form of gold coin.”

I touch a hand briefly to my chest, the memory of Maddoc burning like a flame. I want to be better, and I want to make them better as well. What I went through and what I was made into, it wasn’t my fault. It’s not theirs either.

“If this isn’t the life you want, if you can’t follow me into this change, then leave. Now.” My voice hardens. “This will be the only time I let you walk away from me without consequence. And trust me, the very last place you ever want to find yourself is under my blade.” I scan the sets of eyes, all glued to me. No one moves. The scent of fear hangs heavy in the air. They’ve all known me for some time now. I’m the only slayer that has ever been freed from Silas’s grip, the only one who kept doing exactly what I was made to do. I’m well aware of what my reputation is amongst the slayers.

“Great,” I murmur, a smile curving at the corner of my mouth. The dagger spins idly in my hand, catching the light of the fire. I hold it loosely, ready, just in case anyone decides to test me. I fought too hard to survive. I’m not letting anyone take that from me.

“Now,” I say, lifting my gaze, “who’s ready to slaughter some royals?” A grim smile pulls at my lips.

The room erupts in cheers. Boots stomp against the stone floor, fists pound the tables. Their roars fill every inch of the Academy. I let them celebrate me. I earned this. I bled for this.

I raise a hand, and silence falls again. “It’ll take time to set things right,” I say, voice firm and steady. “There will be changes. There will be visitors, unwanted ones. And while killing innocents ends today, killing trespassers…” The blade flashes once in the firelight. “That’s a different story.”

My eyes sweep the room. I make eye contact with the most sinister pair of eyes in the far corner of the room, Korrin. I’ve known him for some time now and something tells me he isn’t going to fit well into this new rule.

“I want the leader of every squad to meet with me tonight,” I say. “Training will look different under my command. But don’t worry.” The flames illuminate the crooked grin on my face. “It’ll still be painful, hard, and unbearable.”

A low murmur of apprehension ripples through the room.

I turn and walk toward the massive twin doors. My hand rests on the iron handle. I glance back once more, my gaze sweeping over every bowed head. “We will change the world with this new rule,” I say confidently. “This academy will be born anew.”

The silence that follows is thick, reverent. “Leaders, I will see you tonight.” I narrow my eyes as they scan the room, push the large wooden doors open, and step out.

By the time I step outside, the thick morning fog has already wrapped itself around Magda. The sun waits just beneath the mountains, biding its time to burn the mist away. The mist clings to everything, wet air, wet hair, wet breath.

I head toward the heart of Magda, intent on gathering information on healers at the library. Then I’ll find Zorren. He’ll know how long I’ve been out, what’s happened since I’ve been gone, and if any royals have dared step foot on my land aside from the prince. God, I hope Roman was smart enough not to be seen.