Page 34 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

I shook my head, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door.

The moment I stepped outside, the courier was waiting—same gray and crimson uniform, same stiff posture. Wordlessly, he turned and led me through the winding paths toward the castle, the silence between us almost companionable now.

When we entered the now-familiar sitting room, I didn’t hesitate. I dropped into the plush velvet seat across from the fire and waited.

But the door opened. And it wasn’t the king who entered.

The door creaked as Prince Theron entered as if he owned the air in the room.

He always did carry himself like that. With his shoulders drawn back, and his chin lifted just enough to look down his nose at anyone beneath his station. And judging by his eyes, that was everyone.

Trailing behind him were three of his ever-present royal sophisticates, lowerborn nobles dressed in pristine silks and polished boots, each one so desperate for a claim to the throne they practicallyoozedsycophancy. I didn’t know them by name, but I’d seen them often enough, fluttering at his heels like overfed lapdogs.

One of them wore a crimson coat tailored so tightly I wondered how he breathed, and another had slicked-back hair that shined like lacquer. The third… he wore far too many rings for someone who’d clearly never lifted a sword in his life.

Theron’s lips curled into a sneer the moment his eyes landed on me.

“Ashlyn,” he said smoothly, voice dipped in condescension. “It’s good to see you.”

I didn’t rise from the plush velvet seat.

“Why did you summon me?”

One of his sophisticates, a tall, narrow man with a pointed goatee, clicked his tongue and stepped forward. “You will show respect when addressing a member of the royal family.”

I gave him a flat look. “For what?” I gestured lazily. “He’s not a rider.”

Kaelith rumbled in the back of my mind, low and unimpressed.I am watching.She wasn’t angry—yet. That was the only reason I stayed seated.

The man with the goatee bristled, taking a step toward me. “You insolent little?—”

His hand rose.

Thunder rolled overhead like a war drum.

I tilted my head, eyes never leaving his.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” I said calmly. “Even if you manage to land that slap, you’ll wake up in the royal chamber surrounded by fire.”

The man faltered, visibly paling.

“You can’t threaten me—” he started, his voice cracking with that oh-so-noble whine.

But Theron waved his hand dismissively, bored. “Enough.”

The man stepped back, cowed.

My eyes fixed on Theron, no mask, no pretense. Just exhaustion and fire.

“What do you want?” I asked again, this time sharper.

Because Theron never came for pleasantries. Only schemes.

Theron’s eyes narrowed slightly as he circled the sitting room, the velvet hem of his cloak whispering along the stone floor. His royal sophisticates fanned out behind him like smug shadows, still rattled from Kaelith’s thunder but too proud to admit it.

“How did you summon magic during the Blackbind Run?” he asked, keeping his voice smooth and sharp. “The Hallows are warded with some of the strongest protections on the continent.”

I leaned back in the chair, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Kaelith did that,” I said plainly. “She’s older than any of your wards. If you want answers, you’ll have to askher.”