Page 95

Fjörn’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle shift in his granite posture. “And you believe a dead ambassador’s scribblings hold the answer?”

“I know they do,” I shot back, turning the page to show Lorian’s detailed illustration of the seven-foot spear. “Lorian brought a weapon back from the First Era—Vaelthrys. A spear forged of light-drinking steel that carries a blood pact. Once its gem drinks the blood of an opponent, it tracks them until they are turned to dust. It is the only weapon capable of guaranteeing victory against More Alora’s heir.”

Fjörn stared at the drawing in a long, suffocating silence. He didn’t ask how I had found the journal. He didn’t question the legitimacy of the First Era text. His analytical mind simply processed the strategic value of the weapon in a fraction of a second.

“Where is it?” Fjörn demanded softly.

“It isn’t in Elfain,” I rasped, locking my eyes onto his. “Lorian removed it from our realm during the Great Schism. It is hidden in a sanctuary across the Great Divide. On Earth.”

A sharp shift occurred in the room. Manem’s hand tightened around his hilt. Soren’s breath hitched behind me.

To cross the Great Divide required the King’s personal seal. I braced myself for a refusal, for an iron command ordering me back to my border patrols.

Instead, Fjörn did something far more terrifying.

A slow, unreadable expression passed over his features. He leaned forward, resting his heavy forearms on his knees, staring down at me with intense, calculated scrutiny.

“You wish to leave the kingdom,” Fjörn murmured, his tone devoid of surprise. “You ask passage to the mortal realm to retrieve a weapon.”

“I do,” I answered flatly. “And I require your consent to activate the portal.”

He is going to say no, I thought, my knuckles turning white around the journal. He will never let his newest weapon leave his reach.

“Granted,” Fjörn stated.

The single word dropped into the chamber like an anvil.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I stared at the King, utterly stunned by the immediate compliance.

“You... grant consent?” I asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice.

“A weapon that guarantees the absolute execution of More Alora’s champion in a Dagda-Fae is an asset this kingdom will not refuse,” Fjörn said coldly, his voice cut from granite. “However... you will not step through that archway alone. You are the rider of the Nyxalith. You do not wander into the mortal realm without my leash.”

Fjörn raised his hand, pointing three thick fingers toward the perimeter of the room.

“You will be accompanied by High Captain Caspian Nyxaris, Lieutenant Mal Varyn, and High Commander Manem,” Fjörn commanded, his dark eyes locking onto mine with unyielding authority. “They will oversee the expedition, secure the weapon, and ensure your prompt return to the keep.”

My stomach dropped into a cold knot. Mal? Why would my father select him? What did his gift of foresight show him that made him believe sending Mal with us was in the crown’s best interest.

“No,” I argued instantly, taking a step closer to the dais. “If I am going across the Divide, I choose my squad. I want Soren, Rhea, and Dax.”

“Denied,” Fjörn snapped without a second thought.

“Why?!” I demanded, anger flaring hot in my chest. “Soren is my personal guard! Rhea knows the terrain of the First Era ruins, and Dax—”

“Soren and Rhea remain in the citadel,” Fjörn interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous timbre that brooked no further defiance. “I have specific duties prepared for them within the keep that require their undivided attention while you are away.”

A cold thread of dread coiled around my spine. What duties? Why did he want Soren and Rhea isolated in the citadel while I was across the Divide?

Fjörn’s gaze flicked past my shoulder to Soren, who stood rigid, his jaw set, his dark eyes showing a rare flicker of concern.

“As for the transfer—Lieutenant Dax Draven,” Fjörn added with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You may take him. The male with the bound hand holds little value to the vanguard tiers. If he bleeds out in the mortal realm, the crown suffers no loss.”

Contain it, I pushed the darkness back down as it hummed just beneath my skin.

The crown suffers no loss, I will show him loss.

I will destroy everything.