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“It’s none of your business what I do, James. I have it under control.”

“It becomes my business when it goes bad, and you go on a killing spree. What happens when you lose control?” His powerful bluish-purple bolts of electricity smack into my shadows from all angles, echoing with equal parts of fury and worry—a maelstrom of magic.

“I know what I’m doing,” I say, smothering his magic. “It’s not that serious. I’m not that into her.”

“I’m trying to protect you… Let me protect you.” His bolts crack angrier than before, like an upset father trying to teach his son a lesson.

“I personally like them together.” Kylo interjects.

James sends a bolt of lightning toward him, which he dodges.

Kylo steps between us, a wall of fire erupting to break the tension. “Is this the right time to tell you that you both look like you have gotten weak? My new wielders can do better. You both seem like toddlers fighting over a toy.” He laughs. “…Weak toddlers.”

I can’t help but laugh at his corny way of trying to break up the tension between James and myself. Sucking my shadows back in, I pull out a sword. James and Kylo follow suit.

“Truce for now, but Luke, this is not over,” James says, his voice edged with frustration. “Let me show you how much of aweak toddlerI am, boys.” James laughs, then lunges.

James,Kylo, and I beat the double burning hells out of each other. Despite the cool morning air, sweat slicks my skin, dripping from my hair and soaking through my tunic. Kylo and I decide to head back to the palace, our footsteps echoing through the empty corridors, while James insists on training the new guards. The old man will outlive us all, I’m sure of it.

“Seriously, Luke. What are you going to do when they send her to Armadon?” Kylo asks, his brow furrowed as he shoves his sword back into its scabbard. His voice carries a note of genuine concern.

I run a hand over my face, feeling the weight of his question settle into my bones. “I don’t know,” I admit, my voice heavy with defeat. The mere thought makes my stomach churn like molten lead. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Kylo gives me a side-eye, worry etched in his features. “Does she know yet?” he presses, his voice dropping to a whisper. I shake my head, and he groans. “Luke… Gods, you need to tell her.”

“I know,” I say, frustration threading through my voice. “I just—” I stop abruptly as Reign’s voice rings out, sharp and angry.

Kylo and I exchange a look before we quietly creep around the corner, our boots barely making a sound on the polished stone floor.

“I’m allowed in the library,” Reign insists, her voice tight with defiance. “Go ask Prince Lukene if you don’t believe me.”

The guard folds his arms over his chest, glaring at her. “I don’t need to ask. Princess Vanna said contestants can’t access the library.”

Reign clenches her fists, her jaw tightening. “I’m the champion, not a contestant,” she snaps, reaching for the door. The guard’s hand shoots out, smacking hers away, and a dangerous gleam sparks in her lavender eyes.

“If you touch that door again, I’ll whip you,” he sneers, leaning in with a cruel grin. “Ever feel the sting of a whip? I bet that would straighten your Drifter ass out.”

Reign’s face darkens, her eyes narrowing to slits. Her entire body stiffens, and she holds out her hand, summoning a flame that flickers to life, casting a menacing glow. “I know exactly what it feels like. Do you?” Her voice drips with venom. “Ever felt fire melting your skin off? Threaten me again, and I’ll introduce you to the feeling.”

Kylo and I step in, and she whirls around, her chest heaving with barely contained rage. The guard pales when he sees us, his bravado crumbling. Reign’s eyes dart to mine, wild and glistening, before flicking to Kylo, who places a calming hand on her back.

“Reckless, go ahead,” I say, nodding to the library door, my voice firm but gentle. “You have access to every part of the palace.” She stands there for a moment, breathing hard, her eyes searching mine for something—reassurance, perhaps. Kylo gently guides her inside, whispering something soothing as he closes the door.

The guard shifts uncomfortably, his eyes wide with fear. “But your Majesty,” he sputters, “Vanna said?—”

“You heard your prince,” Kylo interrupts, stepping forward until his face is inches from the guard’s. The guard swallows, sweat beading on his brow.

“Kylo, strip him,” I order, my voice icy.

The guard’s eyes widen in horror, and he stumbles back. “Your Majesty!” he cries, desperation cracking his voice as Kylo grabs his armor and tunic, ripping them off and baring his back.

“Which arm would you have used to whip her?” I demand, shadows swirling around me like a living nightmare. The guard trembles, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Answer the prince,” Kylo growls, conjuring a flame in his palm. It flares dangerously, illuminating his scowl.

“My left,” the guard whispers, tears streaming down his face as a dark stain spreads across the front of his pants. The acrid stench of his fear fills the air. “I was following orders. Please!”

“Then follow orders now,” I hiss, leaning in close. “Don’t move, and I might let you keep the arm.”