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Chaos erupts throughout the hall.
Courtiers leap from their seats, some retreating to the walls while others crowd forward for a better view of the spectacle.
Guards surge forward, the metallic song of unsheathed blades filling the air.
Nyctarian’s barked orders are drowned out by the commotion.
And Amalia keeps moving with the fluid grace of a born predator.
As Kelaros collapses to the floor, she follows, straddling him with her knees pinning his arms. She yanks her dagger free with a vicious twist that pulls another wet sound from the wound, and her arm rises again, poised for a second strike at his throat.
I cross to her in three long strides, my hand clamping around her wrist before she can deliver the killing blow. “Amalia Wolf!”
She thrashes, her strength surprising even me, but I hold her with careful firmness, all too aware of how fragile mortals can be, even one as vicious as she. Her hair lashes at me as she twists, trying to break free.
“Let me go!” she snarls, with a rage so pure it borders on madness. “He betrayed us! He left Elionn trapped!”
Her words cut through me sharper than any blade could, but I maintain my grip despite hearing my fears confirmed.
“Stop,” I command, using the voice that brooks no argument even from fellow kings.
When she continues to fight, I wrap my other arm around her waist, lifting her away from her victim.
On the floor, Kelaros coughs weakly, one hand covering the wound in his chest. The guards encircle us now, their blades hovering inches from Amalia’s throat. One wrong move, one misinterpreted twitch, and this diplomatic incident will become a bloodbath.
“He was there!” Amalia screams, her body still twisting within my restraint. “Elionn was at the mirror! He was about to escape, and this monster shoved him back and dragged me through instead!”
The hall falls silent at her accusation, every eye turning to the fallen Dark fae.
“Is this true?” I direct my question to Kelaros.
He doesn’t answer, his breaths coming in wet gasps as blood pools beneath him on the polished floor. The stain spreads outward in a perfect circle, reflecting the mirrored ceiling above.
Amalia’s struggles weaken, her body trembling with exhaustion. “He tricked us. Used me to find a way to the heart—”
“Kelaros volunteered years ago to go on an expedition to bring back knowledge,” Nyctarian cuts in smoothly, before Amalia gives voice to what we cannot speak.
My arm tightens around her waist, to warn, yes, but also because I need the warmth of her body to anchor myself. I’d sent her to find Elionn, and she had succeeded.
Her method of return reveals as much.
“I thought Kelaros long dead,” Nyctarian continues. “This is an…unexpected reunion.”
Amalia’s pulse races beneath my fingers where they circle her wrist. The sithean stone at her arm pulses with an unnatural light, its silver tainted by another hue that sends unease spiraling through me.
I should care more about the diplomatic disaster unfolding around us. I should worry about how this violence will affect negotiations with the Dark Sithe. I should consider the political ramifications of my brother’s continued absence.
Instead, I find myself consumed by a cold fury that rivals Amalia’s hot rage.
If what she says is true, and nothing in her actions leads me to believe she lies, then a subject of the Dark Sithe deliberately condemned a Silver Prince to continued captivity.
“This is most unfortunate, though. This darkling has attacked a subject of my sithe.” Nyctarian’s tone suggests mild interest rather than outrage. “Such an act carries severe consequences.”
My hold on Amalia tightens. “She acts under my protection, as my agent in retrieving my brother.”
“Your brother, who is not here to corroborate these accusations. How are we to know if Prince Elionn was even with them?” Nyctarian’s fingernails click together, making no move to rush to Kelaros’s aid. “While everyone here witnessed the darkling’s attack on my subject.”
“Your subject, who would have needed a mirrorthane’s power to arrive here. Of which there are two. Myself and Prince Elionn. Will you next claim that I opened the pathway when your entire court witnessed otherwise?” I counter, struggling to maintain the icy control expected of a king when all I want is to let Amalia finish what she started.
