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Scanning the room, Grayden's gaze fell on Dimitri. The healer was hunched over a table, working diligently on a patient surrounded by bloody linens. With a jolt, Grayden realized it was Sion. He sprinted over, catching Dimitri's eye.

“He'll survive, provided there's no infection,” Dimitri said, his voice strained with exhaustion, dark circles prominent under his eyes.

Relief flooded through Grayden. “Thank you,” he said fervently. “Twice now you've performed miracles to save my family and friends. You shall be rewarded.”

Dimitri shook his head, patting Sion's unconscious form on the shoulder. “No reward needed,” he insisted before moving to tend to another patient.

With Sion's immediate safety assured, Grayden reached out through his bond with Renya. The emotions he sensed from her—uncertainty and confusion—puzzled him. Concern mounting, he made his way to the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste to reach her.

As he burst through the door to the tower room, sword drawn, the scene before him was not what he expected. Cressida, bound in the corner; Renya, standing before her with her dagger hanging loosely at her side; Cyrus, his expression a mix of concern and contemplation. The air was thick with tension, and a shiver of unease ran down Grayden's spine.

“What's going on?” he demanded, looking between Cyrus and Renya.

Cressida's voice, dripping with false sweetness, burned his nerves. “Ah, if it isn't my daughter's mate!”

Ignoring the Shadow Queen, Grayden moved to Renya's side. “Renya, do what you came here to do,” he encouraged, offering his unwavering support.

But to his shock, Renya dropped her dagger. The clatter of metal on stone seemed to echo in the suddenly silent room.

“I knew you couldn't do it, daughter,” Cressida sighed, relief evident in her voice.

The word 'daughter' from Cressida's lips sent a wave of fury through Grayden. His entire body tensed, fists clenching at his sides. How dare she claim that title after all she had done—trying to kill Renya as a child, kidnapping her, attempting to steal her magic, nearly killing him. If Renya found the task too difficult, Grayden would gladly finish it himself.

He moved forward, raising his sword, only to find himself suddenly immobilized by Renya's golden bonds.

“Renya, what are you doing?” he asked, his eyes darting between her and Cressida, searching for understanding.

“We can't kill her, Grayden,” Renya explained, her voice tight with emotion. “Killing her won't fix our world.”

Confusion and frustration wrestled within him. “What do you mean? Of course it will! She's been stealing magic!”

Cyrus exhaled heavily. “Renya's right, son. The balance was already broken before she began empowering herself.”

Grayden struggled against the magical restraints, his mind reeling. “So? Either way, it doesn't matter.”

Guilt flashed across Renya's face. “I'll release you, but you have to promise me you won't touch her until we figure out what to do with her.”

“Oh, touch me, please,” Cressida mocked, and Grayden felt a surge of murderous intent. If he were free, he would have ended her with his bare hands then and there.

Taking a measured breath to calm himself, Grayden met Renya's eyes. “I promise you, Renya.”

She studied him for a moment before releasing her magical hold. As the bonds dissipated, Grayden fought the urge to lunge at Cressida, honoring his word to Renya.

“We need to restrain her permanently,” Renya said, eyeing Cressida warily. “I don't trust her.”

Cyrus nodded. “There's a spell we can use, but I can't do it alone. I'll need your help to make any kind of permanent bindings.”

“She needs to call off her soldiers, too,” Renya added.

Frustration mounting, Grayden crossed his arms. “Will someone please explain to me what's going on?”

“Renya, I'll take her down to the library,” Cyrus interjected. “There's a secure room there that should hold her for a while. I'll make sure she puts a stop to her troops first.”

Grayden snorted, memories of his own time in that room surfacing. “I remember that blasted room.”

As Cyrus wrapped his magic around Cressida and disappeared with her, Grayden turned to Renya, his expression a mix of concern and confusion.

“Now please explain why your dagger isn't down that witch's throat.”