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Nyctarian’s breathing quickens. “Twelve guards. No more. The rest of my forces must remain to protect our borders should your reckless plan fail.”
Before I can respond, the rustle of fabric precedes Kelaros as he steps from the adjoining chamber, having lingered out of sight until an opportune time.
“Your Majesty,” he says with a shallow bow before his attention shifts to me. “I am ready to go now.”
Nyctarian swirls his wine. “At least pretend not to eavesdrop.”
“I take your critique to heart. But I thought saving time was more important than pretense.”
“I tire of your thoughts,” Nyctarian says into his wine.
Kelaros bows in acknowledgement before he turns to me. “It seems the Wolf nears the limit of what she can withstand.”
The casual dismissal of Amalia’s suffering ignites rage, and my hand twitches toward the sword at my hip, Silver fire sparking at my fingertips. “Speak of her with respect, or do not speak at all.”
Kelaros inclines his head, the gesture a mockery of deference. “Forgive me. I meant no disrespect to your companion.”
Our exchange draws Nyctarian’s interest. “Kelaros, gather the equipment. Select twelve of our best guards. You depart within the hour.”
Kelaros bows again, deeper this time. As he turns to leave, his attention catches beyond the open chamber doors. He goes strangely still, and the sudden hunger in him turns my blood to ice.
Thalindor stands in the hallway, with Amalia at his side, her posture straight despite the visible tremors that run through her frame. The opalescent glow around her eyes has spread since dawn, casting her skin in an unearthly light. My attempts to push back the court’s influence with Silver magic have slowed but not stopped its progress.
Amalia stiffens when she notices Kelaros staring, every line of her body turning hostile. His response is another thing entirely.
His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and the meaning of the gesture strikes bone-deep. His Nyt’Fall blood senses what the glamour hides from him. The Opal Court’s power is growing within her, and he wants to consume it with his unnatural abilities.
“Kelaros,” I say, drawing his attention back to me, “you will coordinate with Thalindor regarding weapons and provisions. I expect you to defer to his experience in matters of planning.”
The command to stay away from Amalia is clear.
His mouth tightens, then smooths before he bows. “Of course, Silver King.”
He passes Amalia with careful distance between them, though his eyes linger on her until the last possible moment.
Once he and Thalindor are gone, I cross to where Amalia waits, taking in the changes. The Opal veins beneath her skin have spread from her temples down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her tunic only to reappear along her exposed wrists.
“You convinced him.” A strange echo overlays her speech, as if she speaks from both here and elsewhere at the same time.
“He saw reason.” I reach for her hand, covering it with mine.
Cold radiates from her skin, the surface almost crystalline. Silver magic seeps into her, pushing back the chill, at least for the moment. Like my brothers, my own mother came from the Dark Sithe, though not from the Nyt’Fall line that birthed my younger brothers.
What I inherited complements Silver magic instead. Illusion bends easily to Silver light, while a soothing touch deepens its cooling numbness. I can dull pain and quiet the body’s distress, but I cannot mend what has been damaged.
But none of it is enough to spare her the pain or the madness.
Still, I feed her more of my magic. “How do you fare?”
She lifts her chin, defiance burning through her obvious exhaustion. “I’ve survived worse.”
“You won’t stand against this alone.” My thumb traces the pulse point at her wrist, steady despite everything. “I will protect you from Kelaros, from the Opal, and from whatever else comes.”
A ragged laugh escapes her, and one eyebrow arches with familiar sardonic humor that somehow survives the court’s transformation.
“Protect me?” Her free hand drops to the dagger at her hip. “I may be changing, Silver King, but I remain the wolf among you. Remember which of us hunts monsters for a living.”
Despite everything, pride swells for this woman. Even now, with Opal crawling through her veins and ancient magic reshaping her from within, her spirit remains unbroken.
