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“The only thing we share is a reckoning.” I keep my hand on my dagger. “Whatever game you’re playing, I’ll figure it out.”
His lips curve. “So is the destiny of family, to test one another and discover who comes out on top.”
“You wouldn’t be the first family member I’ve killed.”
“Nor you the first I’ve killed.”
He continues toward the doors without waiting for my response.
As my attention follows him, I remember the crystal shards he’d fed me inside the court. How he had watched me for a reaction.
At the time, I’d thought he was checking whether they’d kill me.
Now I’m not so sure.
28
THE PREDATOR I FORGOT
AMALIA
The Opal shard flares as we exit the council hall, each pulse syncing with my heartbeat until I can’t tell where my rage ends and the court’s influence begins.
My fingers twitch toward my dagger for the fifth time in as many minutes, the memory of Kelaros’s threat burning brighter than the fragment inside me.
“Do not pull your blade,” Theron murmurs, his silver eyes tracking the movement of my fingers toward my dagger.
I curl my hand into a fist. “He just threatened my life.”
“I believe you threatened each other’s lives,” he murmurs.
The corridors of the Dark Spire stretch before us, obsidian walls reflecting our passage in murky distortions. Each surface captures and warps our images, both dressed in silver and white, but I appear a wild thing next to Theron’s regal bearing. The reflections shift with our movement, as if watching ourselves through dark water.
Behind us, Thalindor maintains a watchful presence, the measured click of his boots echoing over the stone floor. Theron’s royal guard has positioned himself closer than before, ready to intervene should my control slip.
“We need to find out everything we can before we leave tomorrow night,” Theron says, clearly trying to redirect my focus. “We have less than a day to prepare.”
“That’s more than I had when I went in the first time,” I mutter.
He responds, but my attention fractures, splitting between his words and flashes of crystal corridors overlaying the obsidian halls. The court drinks in my anger and feeds it back to me double until my vision pulses red at the edges.
My breathing comes faster, muscles coiling with the desire to hunt.
“Amalia Wolf.” Theron’s voice breaks through the haze. “Focus.”
I bite the inside of my cheek until the skin splits, blood filling my mouth. “I’m trying.”
We round a corner, and my heart leaps into my throat. Fifty paces ahead stands Kelaros, deep in conversation with two obsidian-armored guards. His back is to us, but I would recognize his form anywhere.
Anger explodes through me, and my hand finds my dagger, and the blade sings as it clears its sheath, the sound inaudible to anyone but me.
My vision narrows to a tunnel, everything peripheral falling away until only Kelaros remains. The target, the betrayer, the one who left Elionn trapped.
My body remembers the hunt, the perfect clarity that comes when prey is in sight. One throw. That’s all I need. One perfect throw, and this time I’ll take his head from his shoulders.
Ley line magic rises through me, humming in my blade, charging the metal as I should have done when I stabbed the viper through his treacherous heart.
Theron steps into my path. His chest blocks my view of Kelaros, silver robes filling my vision.
