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‘Kham, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t how you’d—’

‘Do not make me kneel in this darkness a moment longer than necessary. I feel the stain of it on my wings.’

I swallowed as a surge of nausea—reflected from Kham in the bond—rippled through me.

‘You’re a good male,’ I told him earnestly. ‘The best. I won’t ask anything more than is needed—’

‘None of this is needed,’ Kham spat. Fear rippled through me at his very real anger. ‘I told you not to carry the Creator’s name into this darkness. Not to call us into it. They believe us bespelled, correct?’

‘Yes,’ I acknowledged reluctantly. ‘But—’

‘Pah! The servants of light do not kneel before darkness, Voski!’

‘It’s a deception, just like when I pretend to be a thief, or—’

‘It is not the same and we both know it. But this isn’t the time. Do what must be done and free us from this farce.’

I dropped my forehead to the flat of his face and breathed on him. “Thank you,” I murmured, then turned away from him, swallowing grief, to face the shocked men and women watching—some in the wide entry hall. Others at windows. Some cowering under the pillars. Others peering between turrets at the top of the walls, eyes wide as dragons lifted heads that could reach them where they stood.

“You are safe!” I barked. “The dragons will not harm you because I command their power and strength.” I paused to allow that to sink in, then gathered my scattered thoughts before I spoke again, knowing every word I was about to utter would be relayed through the kingdom after this.

‘Show me the best way,’ I begged Kham.

‘It’s too late for the best way,’ he muttered back. ‘But stand in truth. Always in truth. You cannot fight darkness with darkness.’

I swallowed hard, but didn’t let them see my sickened self-loathing as I met eyes with every man I could find. “The power you have followed is waning. The true power, the dragons whose gifts are innate, have come… we have come, to usher you into a new age. I stand here, the Heir Apparent. I claimed my Pair. You saw the ritual that called them down. Now you bend the knee to—”

“This is bullshit!”

I froze as a man stumbled out of the castle, dressed in grand finery, his hair falling in an impossible clump, haphazardly, over one ear, like a broken wing. Breckon.

He limped forward, his voice hoarse. “This isn’t new power, this is that Furyknight bullshit.”

My heart shrieked, but I smiled and tipped my head as the man strode forward—attempting to look strong, though he was clearly fragile. And his eyes kept sliding to the dragon behind me and widening in fear until he tore his gaze back to me.

“Be careful with your words, Breckon. I find my patience wearing thin,” I seethed.

His lips pursed. “It’s bullshit, I tell you! It’s a show. That wasn’t the real binding!” He turned to face the others behind him. “These dragons aren’t obeying him. They work with him. Like spies! I saw him!” he screamed, pointing back toward me like a child, frantic to get another in trouble. “He’s a Furyknight! A Vosgaardian Furyknight. He works with the Queen—this is nothing but a ruse—”

I tipped my hand, and Kham snaked his head forward, roaring, baring his teeth. Breckon whirled and scrambled backward, tripping in his haste, but even as he crawled backward with Kham stomping toward him, making the earth shake, even as his voice grew higher, his fear remained.

“I’m telling you, it’s a trick. She’s brought a fellow Vosgaardian who wants my betrothed—”

“She is not yours!” I roared, and Kham opened his mouth to echo me, a blast of air so hot it blew Breckon’s hair right off his bald spot and reddened his skin.

But in the ensuing silence, as the audience stood, waiting for the drama to unfold, Breckon dropped the arms he’d thrown up to protect himself and shook his head.

“You see? No one dies. No one even gets hurt. He’s not—”

“You wheedling little pustule, still yapping at me because you didn’t get your way?” I snapped. “Be grateful for my mercy and walk away, or I will make you an example for every witness here.”

“Do it!” Breckon shouted back. “You’re a Furyknight! If you murder, those dragons will kill you themselves. That’s what they do, correct? They will judge you and—”

Panic shrieked through me, and I knew unless I did something, they’d all start listening to him. So I threw a hand toward him—he flinched—but I roared for my mother. “Mother of the Circle, our Dominus—use the weaves of truth!” I snarled.

Mother hurried forward and took the hand I’d snapped out, gripping my wrist in one hand, then Breckon’s in the other—the putrid fuck muttering and eyeing her, no longer so sure of himself.

“Speak the vow of truth!” Mother cried. “If your words cast shadows, may you be cursed!”