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"So invigorating, their veins gluttonously pulsing with stolen essence." His tongue ran across his teeth. "The most exquisite feast I've ever tasted."

Something in me snapped. Before I could think, I drove the fork into his thigh.

His cry of pain turned into a snarl as he lunged for me, form rippling and growing impossibly large. His hand locked around my throat as he slammed me back against the table. Cold metal pressed against my lips, forcing them open. Metallic liquid flooded my mouth.

"Such a shame, I was really hoping to do this differently." His hand caressed my face, and I tried to pull away, but I was already losing my grip on reality.

“Tyreth, bring her to the chamber.” His voice drifted above me as darkness claimed my vision. The sound of a door creaking open and boots rushing towards me was the last thing I heard.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Wake up.

Fiandrial.

Wake up.

Consciousness returnedto me in fragments, like trying to piece together a shattered mirror. My limbs felt impossibly heavy, weighted. Even my eyelids refused to cooperate, leaving me trapped in a darkness that pulsed with each sluggish heartbeat.

Voices drifted through the haze—distant at first, then clearer. The sound of boots against stone. Whimpers from somewhere nearby. My mind struggled to make sense of anything beyond the fog that seemed to fill my skull.

When I finally managed to force my eyes open, the world refused to come into focus.Blurred shapes swam above me—fabric hanging in sweeps. As my vision cleared, details emerged with sickening clarity. The bed frame beneath me felt wrong—too soft, too luxurious—with posts carved into twisted shapes that seemed to writhe in my peripheral vision.

I tried to move, to turn my head, but my body wouldn't respond. It was like being trapped underwater, every signal from my brain dying before it could reach its destination.

Blurs moved through my field of vision—men in gray uniforms pacing between rows of smaller beds that lined the walls. More whimpers drew my attention further to find other Kalfar forms laying motionless beneath fine linens. A scream caught in my throat as I begged my body to cooperate.

After seconds of straining my muscles so hard that tears formed in my eyes, my head lulled to the right. And my heart seized in my chest.

Valkan sat beside me, those dead eyes fixed on my face with an intensity that made bile rise in my throat.

I tried to reach for my web, for my shadows, for anything that might help me fight. But the drug held everything just out of reach, leaving me trapped in a body that wouldn't respond.

“Hello again.” His lips curved into the most terrifying of smiles.

Terror shot through me at that voice—silky and wrong—as my drugged mind finally registered where I was. Who I was with.Oh Esprithe.Oh no. No. No. No.

I tried to scream but my mouth wouldn't work, wouldn't move, wouldn't do anything but let out a pathetic whimper that made Valkan's eyes flash with pleasure. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought they might crack. I couldn't move. I couldn'tfuckingmove.

"I must admit," he leaned in, so close I could feel his cold breath against my skin, "I was beginning to worry I'd given you too much."

He straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his perfectly tailoredjacket. "But now that you're awake, we can have a proper conversation about the future." His milky eyes gleamed as he began to pace. "You see, there's something poetic about having a Duskbound here to witness what's coming. One of their precious chosen ones, watching as I tear down everything they've built."

He stopped, cocking his head to the side at an unnatural angle. "Tell me, little Duskbound, do they teach you the true history of our realm? Or just the convenient version the crown wants you to believe?"

My heart thundered against my ribs as he turned back to me, that cruel smile never leaving his lips.

"Centuries ago, the Syrndore line ruled Umbrathia. We were kings before your precious Valtýrs ever dreamed of wearing the crown." His voice carried centuries of inherited bitterness. "But they claimed the Void had chosen them, that only their bloodline could truly understand its power. And the realm, desperate for any sign of divine right, believed them. Three generations of my family were massacred, leaving only a child behind to rebuild our great line as they sat atop our throne and called themselves monarchs."

I tried to turn my head, to look away from those dead eyes, but my muscles wouldn't respond. The paralytic left me trapped, forced to watch as he continued his measured steps around the room.

"For generations, we waited. Played their game. Smiled at court while they squandered their power." His laugh was hollow. "And now look what they've become—the Valtýr's precious realm withers while the Queen remains hidden. While her sycophants cling to outdated traditions. At least I had the courage to take what was needed when the drought came.

"For generations, my family served faithfully in their court, all while remembering what was stolen from us." He ran a finger along the edge of a nearby table. "We watched as they grew complacent, soft. And now?" His milky eyes flashed. "Now theirprecious Queen sits in her tower while her people starve. While her realm dies."

A fresh wave of terror washed over me as his pacing brought him closer. My lips wouldn’t move, but inside, I was screaming.

"The Skalvindrs will be the first to fall," he said, his tone shifting to something almost gleeful. "How quickly they changed allegiance when the drought worsened. One day bowing to the crown, the next supporting my innovation." His lip curled. "Such spineless creatures don't deserve their titles. I think I'll start with the children. Make the parents watch as I drain them, one by one. Show them the true cost of political games."