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“You need medical attention,” Theron counters, his grip never tightening despite my struggle. “You need rest. You need to tell me what has become of my brother.”

My head snaps up at that. Theron has shed the calculating assessment of a king weighing political advantages. Genuine concern has taken its place. Worry lines bracket his mouth, his skin drawn with exhaustion.

With a growl, I turn back toward our destination, and we continue the rest of the journey to our suite in silence.

The guards peeled off as we reached the guest wing door, taking up positions on either side.

But only once we’re shut inside does Theron turn to me, and to my surprise, he allows the royal mask to slip, revealing genuine concern beneath.

The sight stops me cold.

Theron catches sight of my side, and his breath catches with a flicker of panic he hides poorly as he reaches for me. “You’re wounded.”

I peer down at the bloody bandage. “It’s nothing.”

His concern gives way to a familiar royal disapproval. “It appears to be something.”

“Appearances are deceiving.”

“So they are.” He reaches out, and when I flinch back, he waits with his hand extended. “May I?”

I glare at him. “May you what?”

“Let me see.” Slowly, giving me time to retreat again, he cups my jaw and tilts my face toward the light. “Do you understand what you’ve done?”

His fingers hover near my eyes as though afraid touching me might burn, and I bristle at his tenderness.

“I completed the contract.” My chin lifts in defiance. “I found your brother.”

“And now you carry a fragment of Opal within you.” His nostrils flare as he drags in a deep breath. “The oldest, most dangerous magic our realm has known since we fled Underhill.”

I sway as exhaustion catches up with my fury. “It was supposed to be a trade so the court would let him go. But Kelaros ensured neither of us went free.”

Theron’s other hand comes up, and his fingers trace beneath my left eye. “What does it feel like? The court within you?”

“Cold. Hungry.” My hand settles over my chest where the sensation centers. “It wants to grow.”

A flicker of fear shows before he masks it. “And Elionn?”

The question strikes a chord deep within me, touching on a thread of silver that stretches between realms. “The court is…remaking him again, trying to shape him into what it needs.”

Theron goes still as stone. “An Opal King.”

“Yes. And he’s not powerful enough to survive it.”

He studies me without blinking. “Will it let you back in?”

“Yes.” A shudder goes through me. “The court demands my return. I’m not sure it will leave another opening for Elionn to escape, though. Not after last time. It doesn’t want to release those it claims.”

His breath leaves him slowly. “I never intended⁠—”

“It doesn’t matter what you intended.” My shoulders slump as anger gives way to bone-deep weariness. “What matters now is what you intend to do about it.”

Thalindor shifts behind Theron, his presence almost forgotten until now.

The king turns to him with a gesture. “Leave us.”

The guard’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Your Majesty⁠—”