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Elionn’s mouth opens, his face contorting with effort. “Amalia Wolf, you shouldn’t have come.”

His fingers tremble, still reaching for me despite his warning. The crystal encasing his lower body tightens, constricting around him.

“The Court wants…” A spasm cuts off his words, pain flashing across his features. When he speaks again, his vocal cords oscillate between his own and the chorus that fills the chamber. “Needs…”

His words fracture as the crystal tightens further, cutting into his silver skin. His back arches in silent agony, those prismatic eyes wide with warning and fear, not for himself, but for me.

Only a single step separates us.

The pressure of the air constricts my lungs, each breath shallow and insufficient. Black spots dance across my vision. In another minute, I’ll pass out, and the decision will be taken from me.

“Tell me what you need,” I demand, the words scraping my throat raw.

Elionn’s lips move again, but the sound that emerges belongs to the Court, a chorus of voices speaking as one. “Anchor.”

“You have one already!” I scream.

Elionn struggles within his bonds, fighting for control. “The Court is dying without… without a heart to anchor it. It’s trying to remake itself. But I’m…” His features blur as if seen through water. “…not a King.”

The final step isn’t mine to take. The court seizes me, crushing in from all sides until my body gives way. My knees buckle, and I stumble forward, dragged into alignment with Elionn’s outstretched hand and the thing that controls his body.

“It wants us both,” Elionn wavers between himself and the Court. “Together. But the price…”

He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to, as crystal tendrils take hold of my tattooed hand, forcing it up.

Panic twists my guts. If Elionn disappears into this court, it will strip away his playful personality, steal him from his brothers who love him and need him to return.

Elionn’s eyes fix on mine, and for just a moment, the prismatic light fades, revealing silver depths I recognize. “Amalia. Run.”

But I can’t. I’m as much a pawn in this as he has become.

Kelaros shouts unintelligibly, and my head turns to see him charging toward us. He had found a way past the fissure and now, his footsteps thunder toward us. The blade I gave him earlier flashes in the opalescent light as he raises it high, aiming not at me, but at the crystal encasing Elionn.

“No!” I try to intercept him, but the Court’s pressure holds me in place, crystal bands tightening around my limbs.

Kelaros slams into the crystal prison, his blade skittering harmlessly away with the sound of nails on glass. Not even a scratch mars the translucent material. He strikes again, harder, his knuckles whitening around the hilt as he puts all his strength behind the blow to no avail.

“Stop!” I struggle against the crystal’s hold, muscles straining. “You’ll kill him!”

Kelaros ignores me, circling to find another angle of attack. His elegance shatters into feral desperation, and his third strike bounces off the crystal’s base, the blade nearly flying from his grip.

“It won’t work,” Elionn murmurs, clearer now, as if Kelaros’s attack has given him momentary control. “The Opal protects what it claims.”

Kelaros whirls toward me, fury etched across his features. A strand of dark hair falls across his forehead, stuck to his sweat-slick skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, testing the court’s hold on me. My fingers tingle as blood returns to them, the pressure easing as if his attack distracted the Court from its mission.

“If you merge, all of this will have been for nothing!” Kelaros slams his fist into the crystal, and his blood streaks the surface, red pearls beading on the surface that the Court refuses to drink.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I wiggle within the crystal’s grasp, working the hand with my dagger around.

Kelaros turns to me, shoulders slumping in defeat. The mask of courtly charm he wore earlier has shattered completely, revealing the frightened man beneath. “If the Court completes the transformation, the King will emerge fully formed, and everything here will be remade.”

His fingers open, letting the useless knife clatter to the floor, each metallic note a surrender.

“I do not want to cease to be.” His laugh holds no humor, only exhaustion. “Not in this hellhole.”

Kelaros steps closer, palms open in supplication. “If you free him without merging, I swear I’ll help you both escape. Just get us out.”