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Of course. Manem and Soren would defend me. But my father…

The gesture was small, cold, and absolute. The King’s fingers remained frozen in the air, halting both guards in their tracks. He didn’t speak a word in my defense. His green eyes stayed fixed on the far wall, his posture sending a clear command to the dais.

To me.

Stand your ground. Defend your own existence.

I felt a sharp, defensive fire ignite in my chest, burning away the lingering exhaustion of the morning. Heat rippled outward, and beneath the heavy velvet of my gown. The darkness began to crawl. I was sure that if my arms weren’t covered, I would see the midnight swirls dancing across my skin. I stepped forward to the very edge of the dais, looking down into Dellyn’s smile.

Contain it.

“My body is my own, Lord Dellyn,” I said, my voice dropping into a low, quiet tone that cut through the gallery like steel. “I broke the surface of the Mani Vatn while zealots turned to grey ash on this very floor. I passed the first trial. And I will pass the others as well, whether your province approves of my blood or not.”

Dellyn’s smile stretched wider, his eyes narrowing into two glinting slits of calculated delight. In that split second, the pieces fell into place with sickening clarity.

“A proud declaration from a half-breed,” Dellyn murmured, his hands slipping slowly into the folds of his emerald cloak as he straightened his spine before the throne. “Then let us test that pride under the oldest laws of Elfain. Under the ancient rites of the Dagda-Fae, I invoke high-house privilege. I challenge you to an einvígi, Princess Tauriel.”

No. Contain it.

I felt the darkness deepen. It thrived off my emotions, pulsing beneath my skin like a living thing ready to tear free.

A collective gasp ripped through the hall, followed by a sudden, suffocating silence.

“A death duel,” Dellyn continued, his voice slicing through the stillness. “Fought on the obsidian sand on the first day of spring. Let the ancient rites decide if you are worthy of the Drakhar name—or if your mortal blood belongs in the dirt.”

The word echoed off the high stone, turning the air in my lungs cold. Einvígi. Whispers broke out across the galleries—frantic and sharp.

No magic. Under the old law, magic was useless. The silver pool’s mark, court spells, bloodline gifts—all stripped away by the rite. Just raw steel, bare flesh, and two blades in a ring that neither challenger could leave until one heart permanently stopped beating.

Dellyn dead? I could work with that. Aerynn would probably be the only one at my funeral who wasn’t secretly celebrating.

“Father, no!” Aerynn stepped forward, his voice booming through the space, his posture rigid. “The rite is primitive. It hasn’t been invoked in three centuries. Deny the challenge. She is currently preparing for the Drakoryn trial—she cannot be subjected to a provincial execution disguised as law!”

Aerynn looked at our father, his blue eyes wide with panic, begging the stoic monarch for an intervention. Caspian moved from the vanguard line, his broad frame tense, his hand white on his pommel as he waited for the King’s command to clear the floor.

My father opened his mouth to speak, his features shifting as he weighed the political fallout of the challenge.

“I accept,” I said cleanly.

The words landed against the granite before the King could utter a syllable.

Aerynn whipped his head around to face me, his face pale with pure disbelief. Caspian froze, his blue eyes locking onto mine with an intense, almost terrifying look. Even Dellyn’s smile twitched, caught off guard by the total lack of hesitation in my voice.

Fuck.

My heart steadied into a cold, dangerous rhythm.

Might as well lean into it now.

“Draw your blade, Lord Dellyn,” I whispered, the words sliding out like cold steel. “You wanted to see a monster. Don’t look so disappointed when it finally bites.”

Beneath the heavy velvet cuff of my right sleeve, a thin, dark tendril of smoke leaked past the fabric, coiling against my skin like a living thing before vanishing back into the dark ink.

For a fraction of a second, Dellyn’s triumphant smile faltered. His eyes dropped to my forearm, and a flicker of raw, instinctive dread flashed across his features before he aggressively masked it behind a hardened sneer.

No. Contain it. Don’t let them see it. Push it down—

My chest tightened, the darkness fighting back against my own will, pulsing wildly beneath my skin.