Page 158 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

They were already choosing sides. And neither included the royals or the riders.

Zander’s voice rang out over the quiet hum of the village square, sharp and unmistakable. “Thrall Squad, back to the compound—now.”

I watched as my squad began gathering near the edge of the ruined tavern, falling into formation with practiced ease. Riven, Naia, and Jax clustered together, their steps loose and casual to any onlookers, but I could see the flicker of alertness behind their eyes.

I moved quickly, weaving between them, slipping into the safety of their group. “Stay close,” I whispered under my breath. “I let the townsfolk think I was a commoner.”

Riven flanked my left without hesitation. Jax gave a small grunt and shifted slightly to obscure my side, and Naia subtly adjusted her gait to keep me boxed in. From a distance, we were just another group of soot-streaked riders heading home.

No one looked twice.

We passed through the outer gate of the castle compound in silence. I waited until we were behind the first wall before I tugged the cap from my head, releasing the cascade of long, white hair down my back. The moment the strands caught the sunlight, I felt the change in perception around us. A few guards glanced our way, their expressions shifting with recognition.

I stripped the tunic from over my armor and stuffed it under my arm, standing a little straighter.

For once, I was grateful Cyran had made me hide my most distinguishing feature. That forced anonymity had just bought me valuable insight I never would’ve gained as a rider.

As we reached the barracks compound, Zander moved to my side. He scanned the squad, his eyes catching mine instantly.“Ashlyn,” he called, voice low but expectant. “Come with me to the castle. I need you for something.”

My heart kicked up, not with fear, but with something more cautious, more measured.

I nodded.

The rest of Thrall Squad peeled away toward our barracks, weariness in their steps but watchful still. I didn’t miss the glance Riven gave me before slipping through the door. A silentbe careful.

Zander and I continued in silence across the castle grounds and through the high-arched main entrance. The polished floors gleamed, catching the light from towering stained-glass windows. As we climbed the staircase that curled around the inner keep, the air grew quieter. More tense.

At the top floor, Zander paused before an elaborate double door. Carved dragons spiraled across the wood in flight, their wings stretching across the panels like protectors, or wardens.

He knocked once. A beat passed.

Then he opened the door.

The suite was massive. All velvet and gold, with tall ceilings and rich tapestries. A fire crackled in an ivory hearth, and the scent of old books and finer wines clung to the air. This wasn’t a room, it was a throne in disguise. A sanctuary for a king who hadn’t ruled in months.

The door to the adjoining chamber creaked open, and the king emerged, his long velvet robe brushing the floor. He looked… regal, his posture upright, his expression clear.

But there was a slur in his voice when he greeted us.

“My son,” he said, eyes lighting on Zander with a flicker of something warm. “And the storm girl.”

Zander dipped his head. “Father.”

The king motioned for us to sit near the fire, but Zander remained standing, his shoulders stiff. “We need to speak plainly, Father. It’s about Theron.”

The king raised a brow. “Your brother? What about him?”

“He’s consolidating power. Using your absence, your condition, to gain the court’s favor. He’s begun interfering with military decisions. Appointing commanders. Giving orders in your name.”

The king waved a hand, slumping into a velvet armchair. “That’s what regents are for. I chose him.”

Zander pressed on. “I know. But he’s abusing it. He’s not just expanding his influence, he’s funding a sect. They’re called the Varnari. They’ve begun gathering magic users outside the guilds. Secretly. Quietly. And the commoners are beginning to whisper that he supports them.”

The king scoffed, lifting a crystal goblet from a side table. “Nonsense. All the realm’s magic is accounted for. We have the guilds. The riders. The warders. The healers. What else is there?”

Zander’s jaw clenched.

I stepped forward. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, that isn’t true. I spoke to commoners, people who are scared. They say the Varnari are building strength. And the Crimson Sigil too. We saw it firsthand. They have support. And magic.”