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The sound reverberated through my bones, my memories. I couldn’t lose her—not again. Ayla was gone, and I couldn’t lose another person I loved.

I spoke the command before I could consider the consequences. “Shade’s Brand, come to me.”

It obeyed. My body sucked it in, absorbing the last of the Brand.

Eleanor gasped. The final dregs of her Brand passed from her; they flowed through the root and entered me.

“We did it!” Eleanor sat back on her heels, a rare smile tilting her lips. Life flooded her face, pallor becoming color.

My core tightened, death creeping into me. I didn’t have to look at my chest to know—I was branded. It would fester within me, growing stronger until it seized my soul.

After what I had done to Ayla, maybe it was a fitting fate.Darkness is inevitable.The words resonated with painful truth.

“Now for the throne,” Eleanor said, squaring her shoulders and facing the whittled chair.

I blinked, realizing she did not know I was branded. She couldn’t sense it. She prepared to take the next step of her journey without understanding what it had cost me.

At least Eleanor was safe. Finally, she could do what she was born to do.

We had been so young when the throne made its preferred heir known. I couldn’t remembernotknowing Eleanor would be queen. I had been the spare, the protector.

When we were children, she practiced claiming the throne. It was the first rite she was taught. Sometimes she would sneak into the throne room and stare at her fate. Eventually, she would playact, approaching it like she might ascend, always stopping short of sitting on the throne.

I watched, jealous she had been chosen, relieved I didn’t carry her responsibilities.

Today’s ascension rite was nothing like we’d practiced. Eleanor wasn’t claiming the throne in a peaceful transition of power. The grand throne had been worn down to a chair. This chamber, with its single flickering fireplace, was a pale comparison to the throne room in Issa Neu. There wasn’t a watching vigil—only me.

Yet the roots remained. The power of the Isle still flowed through the Shadow Throne. A queen was called to claim her place.

I swallowed, deciding not to tell her about my Brand. I could not distract her.

Eleanor lengthened her spine. She spun, dress swirling around her. She exposed her back to the throne and sat.

Her next breath rattled the room. Starting with her fingertips, the throne consumed her body. Roots wrapped around her legs. Her back sank deeper, merging with the wood. The throne bonded to her.

She didn’t flinch as the throne devoured her. Her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed—it stopped. They merged, and she became wooden too.

The rite had begun.

What happened next was a mystery. There would be no physical evidence, and no monarch talked about their experience. Not even our parents had explained.

This rite was her trial.

And protecting her was my duty.

34 | Perception

Ayla

I prepared to run.

Digging through Inarus’s rooms, I foraged for supplies. The apartment was well stocked, and I filled a bag with provisions and fae goods.

It was procrastination. I was running into a dead end. I couldn’t possibly collect enough supplies to fix my Brand. If I truly intended to run, I would have already been gone.

“I’m going back, aren’t I?” I asked Ninti.

She replied with warmth. “See? You’re braver than you think.”