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Nyrus steps closer, malice gleaming. “We might glean more from you first. Or perhaps we let the inquisitors pry out your illusions—your rumored enthrallment.”

I freeze.They suspect everything.My breath hitches. If I speak my enthralling tone here, they might kill me on the spot. But if they plan an inquisition, I’m doomed anyway.

Kalthos waves a dismissive hand. “We’ll see. For now, you remain in our custody. The prince’s dithering is at an end.”

He turns, conferring quietly with Nyrus. My guards remain on either side, crossbow aimed at me. My mind spins.If Xelith was coming for me, he’d have arrived by now, yes? Or has he been delayed, fighting the farmland enclaves?A pang lances my chest.He promised he wouldn’t let them take me.But I see no sign of him. Perhaps he’s chosen the throne after all.

The weight of that realization crushes me.If he’s abandoned me, I have to save myself.I test the manacles, fingers curling.I can enthrall these guards, but Kalthos and Nyrus are formidable. If I enthrall them all, the wards might sense it.My heart thrums with adrenaline.

Suddenly, a disturbance outside the door—a muffled shout, the clang of steel. The guards inside stiffen, crossbow guard pivoting to face the entrance. My pulse skyrockets. Is this an attack from the farmland rebels? Or maybe the council’s own soldiers fighting among themselves?

The door bangs open, revealing a swirl of cloaks and drawn weapons. My breath catches. Xelith stands at the forefront,obsidian skin gleaming with sweat, silver hair disheveled. His war sigils glow faintly, as though charged with shadow magic. Behind him, a handful of loyal guards push past Nyrus’s men, forging a path.

My heart leaps in a dizzying mix of relief and confusion. He came. He actually came for me.

Kalthos whirls, face twisting with outrage. “Prince Xelith! You dare force your way in here?”

Xelith’s eyes blaze. “You took Lysandra without my permission, interfering with the farmland operation. I want her released immediately.”

Nyrus snarls, stepping forward. “You’re the one interfering, Vaeranthe. The council demanded her. You failed to produce results.”

Xelith’s gaze flicks to me, pinned by shackles, exhaustion etched in my features. Something fierce flashes in his eyes—an apologetic fury. He raises a hand. “I haven’t failed. I have enclaves on the cusp of surrender. We only need more time.”

Kalthos folds his arms. “Time is up. And she’s ours.”

“Over my dead body,” Xelith growls, stepping between them and me. The crossbow guard fidgets, uncertain whom to aim at.

My breath hitches.He’s chosen me over them. Over his own security.A pang of gratitude mingles with raw fear.

Nyrus smirks. “If you defy the council’s decree, you become a traitor in truth. Are you prepared for that?”

Xelith’s jaw clenches. “If defending Lysandra from your cruelty makes me traitor, so be it.” He levels a dagger at the guard holding the crossbow. “Let her go. Now.”

A heartbeat of charged silence. The guard glances at Kalthos, who offers no help, then sets the crossbow aside and steps back. The second guard hesitates, eyes flicking from Xelith’s lethal stance to Nyrus’s glare. Finally, he unlocks the manacleswith trembling hands, freeing my wrists. I sag against the table, massaging the bruised skin.

Nyrus hisses. “You fool, Vaeranthe. The entire council will rally against you for this.”

Xelith squares his shoulders, voice cold. “Let them. I’d rather face them openly than cower behind half-truths. You kidnapped my captive—myally—out of turn.”

My chest tightens at the wordally.Despite everything, he’s claiming me as a partner, not just a tool.

Kalthos looks ready to explode. “Arrogant child. Siding with a rebel, defying the council’s timeline… you’ll regret this.”

Xelith doesn’t reply, but his posture bristles with unyielding resolve. I glance at him, emotion clogging my throat. He truly came—no half measures, no hidden ploy. He’s risking his status, maybe his life.

I push away from the table, stepping beside him. My body trembles, but I straighten my spine. “You want a fight, Kalthos? Or do you want to let us walk out of here?” My voice remains tight, controlled. If I slip into enthrallment mode, they might all turn on me at once.

Nyrus curses, hand inching toward a blade. Kalthos looks prepared to unleash magical wards. Tension crackles, each side coiled for combat. Xelith’s men shift behind him, waiting for a signal. My heart pounds.We need to escape before the entire fortress converges.

Xelith, reading the same danger, murmurs to me, “Stay close. We’ll carve a path out.”

I nod. Our eyes meet, a silent confirmation that we’re in this together now, truly. My chest aches with an odd mixture of relief and longing.He chose me.

Xelith gestures to his guards. “We’re leaving. Anyone who stands in our way is fair game.”

Kalthos’s face purples with fury. “You dare!” He lunges, conjuring a dagger from beneath his cloak. His attempt is rash. Xelith swats the blade aside with lightning speed, reversing momentum to knock Kalthos off balance. The older lord staggers back, colliding with Nyrus, who hisses in annoyance.

A flash of steel slices the air, courtesy of one of Xelith’s men. The crossbow guard topples with a cry. My pulse races. This is happening so fast— a full-blown confrontation with council loyalists.