Page 47 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

That was exactly what Kaelith feared. That my magic wasn’t just immature, it was uncontrolled. That it might one day bend notwithher… butagainsther.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on the knot forming in my stomach.

Because the castle doors swung open with a metallic groan, and the crowd on the Ascension Grounds went still.

The king emerged, cloaked in crimson and gold, flanked by Theron and several guards in polished armor and a few members of his council. His crown caught the sun like fire.

They strode in silence toward the podium where Major Ledor already waited.

Zander broke from Crownwatch without hesitation, moving through the ranks like a shadow drawn to fire. His cloakwhipped behind him, boots silent on the stone as he crossed the field to fall in step beside his father.

The king didn’t acknowledge him.

His gaze was wild, unfocused, his golden crown askew on his brow, the crimson cloak billowing dramatically behind him as if he walked into battle rather than across the Ascension Grounds. Theron matched his stride on the opposite side, his expression unreadable, hands clasped tightly behind his back like he was afraid they might betray his tension.

But before the king even reached the podium, he stopped.

His voice shattered the quiet like a thunderclap.

“You think I don’t see you all watching me?!” he bellowed, arms flung wide as if daring someone to meet his madness. “Scheming behind silk curtains and council meetings, sipping wine while the blood of dragons drips beneath your boots!”

Everyone stilled.

Even the dragons lowered their heads in eerie silence.

The king pointed toward his council members, shaking with fury. “You! Khevaran—you’ve been speaking against me in the lower courts. Don’t bother denying it. I’ll have your tongue mounted to your family crest before dawn!”

A stunned gasp echoed through the guild lines, but no one dared speak.

“And you!” he snarled, swinging to another noble in the back. “Plotting with healers. Thinking I don’t notice when my guards vanish. Do you wish to replace me?” He threw his arms out. “Well then, take your shot, cowards! Let’s see what power dares to challenge me here, on the sacred ground of the guild!”

A terrified councilwoman dropped her scrolls.

The king rounded on his own guard, eyes bloodshot. “Fetch the executioner. I want the tower cleared. No more whispers. I will rule from fire and fang, and they will remember. They will all remember.”

Zander was the first to move.

He stepped close, one hand reaching calmly toward the king’s arm, his voice low and composed. “Father, the council serves at your will. Let them witness your strength, not your wrath.”

But the king shook him off. “You think I don’t see your betrayal too, Zander? You and your quiet little missions. Your alliances with lowborns. You would let dragons choose commoners!”

Theron stepped in next, voice smoother, colder. “Your Majesty,” he said carefully, “perhaps we should return to the castle. Let the council prepare the hall for your decree.”

The king looked between them, eyes darting, pupils too small.

For a moment, it looked like he might lash out at both sons.

But then he let out a ragged breath, torn and trembling, and turned his back on the crowd.

“No more secrets,” he muttered as he walked away. “No more lies.”

The guards followed closely.

Zander hesitated at the base of the podium, his jaw clenched, hands curled into fists at his sides.

No one spoke.

No one moved.