Page 158

A laugh escapes me. “How convenient for you to remain unsullied by such decisions while others bleed for them.”

“This is the nature of rule, Theron.” My given name sounds strange on his tongue, stripped of titles and formality. “Clean hands make for weak kings.”

My mind fills with images of Amalia collapsed in my arms, blood trickling from wounds that might never have happened without Nyctarian’s manipulations. Of Elionn, thin and haunted from months of crystal-induced starvation. Of Dark guards slaughtered by the man who commanded them.

I step closer, ice cracking beneath my boots. “You speak of necessity while standing safe in your fortress.”

Nyctarian rises from his chair, his robes swirling. “Had the move against Kelaros come from me, it would have led to civil war. The ancient houses still hold enough power to fracture the Dark Sithe. What then of the blight? Of the borders we maintain to hold back the creeping crystal corruption?”

As distasteful as it is, his plan holds some logic. The frost beneath my feet melts as my magic recedes, my anger cooling with it. “You weren’t certain you could defeat him.”

“Kings cannot gamble on battles they cannot afford to lose.” Nyctarian’s fingers trail across the star-mapped table. “And I could not afford to fail.”

The truth settles between us. This was not opportunity seized, but patience exercised, manipulation laid months, perhaps years, in advance.

“How long?”

“Since the first signs of the Opal Court’s awakening. Since I realized what Kelaros sought there.”

“And my brother’s capture?”

“An unexpected variable,” he admits. “But one that completed the equation.”

I study him across the expanse of the shadow-filled chamber, this king whose logic remains flawless while his methods turn my stomach. Yet can I claim my hands remain clean? Have I not ordered executions, authorized hunts, maintained borders through force when diplomacy failed?

“We are not so different, you and I,” Nyctarian says. “We both protect what belongs to us.”

“The difference,” I reply, “is what we believe can be owned.”

He studies me. “And what lesson do you draw from this, Silver King?”

“That power claimed through force destroys both wielder and subject,” I say.

Nyctarian studies me. “The Dark Sithe has cooperated with the Silver Sithe’s demands in this matter. We have shown ourselves open to a closer connection than we have held in recent years.”

“You have shown me the need for more caution.” I incline my head. “You played your game well, Nyctarian. But never forget, games with such stakes incur debts, and debts come due.”

Shadows gather around him, drawn by his innate magic. “I welcome our continued exchanges, Theron Myr’Shade. Few understand the burdens we bear.”

I turn toward the door but pause at the threshold. “We will depart the moment Prince Elionn and Amalia Wolf are strong enough to travel. I expect the gates to be open when that time comes, as a show of good faith.”

“Your brother’s condition requires extensive treatment. My healers report significant crystal integration with his vital organs. The process of reversal cannot be rushed without risk.”

“A Prince of the Silver Sithe has no need of your healers.”

“As you say.” He inclines his head. “Though I would recommend at least a full moon cycle before attempting the journey.”

His concern rings false after his earlier manipulations, and my patience thins to breaking. “Your recommendation is noted. We leave when they are able.”

Nyctarian drifts toward me. “There remains the matter of the Nyt’Fall clan members.”

Ice forms in my veins, but I betray nothing. “What matter would that be?”

“They are subjects of the Dark Sithe.” For Nyctarian, that appears to settle the matter. “Surely you understand they must remain here, where they belong.”

The claim chills me.

“How fortunate, then, that any remain to return at all.” My fingers brush the dried blood on my shoulder. “Were it not for the actions of my people, your healers would have dissolved along with the Opal Court itself. Their return to you, however many survived, should inspire gratitude rather than demands.”