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“Opal must merge,” I repeat, the phrase tugging at some memory or knowledge just beyond my grasp. “He said the court will accept no substitute for what was lost.”

“No.” Silver fire brightens around his fingers. “The court does not dictate our choices.”

“What if it isn’t a choice?”

“It is always a choice.”

The certainty in his voice almost makes me believe him.

Almost.

“Elionn is already changing.” My throat tightens around the words. “You know what it’s doing to him.”

“And I will tear that court apart stone by stone before I allow it to finish.”

“And if that kills him?”

Theron goes utterly still.

I cover his hand where it rests against the sithean stone. “You won’t sacrifice your brother.”

“I will sacrifice neither of you.”

A king’s command, delivered as though reality itself must obey. But I have stood before enough impossible choices to know better.

Theron’s fingers tighten around mine. “I will find another way.”

I believe he will try.

But I also accept what he will choose if there isn’t one.

31

THE PATH OF TWO THRONES

THERON

Nyctarian’s face darkens as I deliver my demand, shadows deepening across his twilight skin until they resemble bruises. I had caught him at breakfast, and he places his goblet on the obsidian table, crystal striking stone with a clink that echoes through his private chambers.

“Now?” The question carries the hush of a starless void. “You wish to enter the Opal Court now, rather than at moonrise as agreed?”

I sense another presence in the suite, faint movement beyond the carved archway leading to Nyctarian’s strategy chamber. Not a guard’s footstep. It’s too light for that.

Of course, most of the Dark King’s mornings begin with at least one agent reporting the night’s intelligence, and I did arrive uninvited. Nor did I expect privacy for this conversation. The door stands open behind him so the king’s personal guard can keep an eye on things.

“We don’t have until moonrise.” I keep my stance wide and shoulders back despite the exhaustion gnawing at my bones. “The court’s hold on Amalia strengthens by the hour. By nightfall, we may lose her to the court.”

The Dark King rises from his chair, shadows gathering around him. “Your concern for this darkling borders on obsession, Silver King.”

“My concern is for my realm, my brother, and the threat the Opal Court poses to us all.” I step close enough to breathe in the trace of cosmic frost and distant constellations that lingers on his skin. “Why so resistant? Or is the Dark Sithe’s appetite for risk more rumor than truth?”

His nostrils flare as my barb finds its mark. “My guards require preparation. Proper equipment. Strategy.”

“While you stargaze, my brother turns to crystal.” My fingers curl at my sides to hide the Silver magic crackling at my fingertips. “I will enter the rift with or without your assistance, Brother King. Choose now whether the Dark Sithe wishes to claim a portion of whatever power we salvage.”

His eyes narrow to slits. “You would breach protocol so brazenly?”

“Protocol will not save us when the crystal blight consumes our realms.” I turn away from him in a calculated insult. “The Silver Sithe moves forward. Follow or remain behind.”