Page 9

T he percussion of drums vibrated in my core. The court musicians had begun, and the crowd quieted. Hollow, rhythmic strikes reverberated off the vast stone walls, echoing like distant thunder.

The throng of people parted, revealing Johan and Nico at the center of the great hall. Adolescent males stood around them in a semicircle, each bearing a banner with emblems etched in black and crimson, rippling in a wind that didn’t exist.

“They represent the noble Houses of Hiraeth,” Fallon whispered in my ear, answering the question that had only just formed in my mind.

“The shifter bloodlines that have ruled these lands for generations. The falcon for the House of Rapere. The buck for the House of Steggr. The wolf for the House of Lycaon, and of course, the bear for the House of Bruin. These alliances have held since the dawn of our existence—until tonight.”

“Is there a chance you could be wrong?” I whispered as a heavy silence fell.

Before she could answer, Johan began to speak.

“Welcome, my fellow Hiraethians! I can only speak for myself when I say, I am so pleased that all of you are here to bear witness to a new chapter in our history. It’s time for Hiraeth to turn the page and begin anew.

What a glorious night indeed! Now comrades, join me…

TO THE THRONE ROOM!” he bellowed, and wild cheers erupted.

Fallon’s cold fingers clamped down on my arm as the drums resumed, horns joining the raw, guttural music as the banner bearers led the march out of the hall.

I was fully immersed in the spectacle. It was a relief not to be the center of attention anymore, but I couldn’t shake the feeling someone was still watching me.

I scanned the crowd until my eyes locked with Gunner’s.

While the rest of the princes marched solemnly behind Nico, he was staring at me.

When he realized he’d been caught, his lips tugged into a half-cocked smile.

He raised a hand in salute, as though signaling the real game was about to begin.

A polished bow rested over his shoulder, a quiver of arrows strapped at his side. He’d kept his promise to Fallon.

The warmth of his attention and his playful demeanor somehow eased my nerves, as if he were telling me everything would be alright. I wanted to believe him.

My eyes darted around the crowd, feeling exposed, wondering if anyone had noticed our exchange—but all eyes were on Nico. As the procession passed, the crowd closed in behind them. The press of bodies was overwhelming, but Fallon’s cold grip held me in place against the flow.

“Shouldn’t we follow?” I whispered.

“Not yet. I need space to see what’s coming.”

When the crowd thinned, Fallon pulled me forward, leading us into the adjacent throne room.

Unlike the communal ambiance of the great hall, this place was built for ceremonies.

Rows of soldiers in polished armor lined an elongated chamber designed to fit hundreds.

Immensely tall ceilings arched overhead, and lancet windows stretched from floor to ceiling.

The full moon was perfectly framed within the intricate lattice of a rose window looming above a tiered dais, where a large throne sat at the center.

As we approached, I realized it was a morbid composition of interlocking bones from various animals.

“The throne is made from the remains of the original leaders of the founding houses. The magic of our ancestors flows through the seat of power in Hiraeth,” Fallon said, once again reading my thoughts before I could voice them.

“And who is he?” I asked, pointing to a cloaked figure behind a stone altar.

“He’s the sage. Our holy man. He’ll oversee the transfer of power.” Fur-lined robes hung heavily from his thin frame, casting his face into shadow.

“Do you trust him?” I asked.

“With my life. But it’s not him I’m worried about.

” Fallon pulled at my hand, dragging me into a dark alcove carved into the eastern wall.

Deep shadows played across the arched recess, cast by flickering candlelight arranged around a small altar.

Intricate iron lattice scrolled over thick glass, entombing a book within the wall.

“May the Divine forgive me,” Fallon whispered, pulling a skeleton key from her clutch.

A subtle click, and the lattice popped open, revealing solid glass beneath.

She fished into her clutch again, replacing the key with a tiny silver pistol.

I jumped as she slammed the butt of the gun against the glass.

A spiderweb of cracks raced across the surface.

Two more blows, and the case shattered in a splintering crash, leaving a plain, leather-bound book exposed in a sea of glittering shards.

“What are you doing?” I hissed as she pulled it from the debris.

“Here. Hold on to this for me. Tuck it into your dress.” She shoved it into my hands.

“Seriously? What are we doing, Fallon?” I tried to stare her down, desperate for answers. Ignoring me, she turned, blowing out the candles at the altar, cloaking everything in darkness before I could even see a title.

“Fallon… what is this?” I asked as she turned her back, peeking out at the crowd from our hiding spot.

“What?”

“The book? What is it?”

“It’s nothing. Just keep it hidden and forget about it. It won’t help us now. Watch!” she commanded, ending the conversation. I wedged the book into the stays of my corset, silently cursing the fact that I was blindly going along with whatever outlandish plan she was concocting.

The sage raised his arms, the feathers woven into his cuffs rustling like wings. His deep, rasping voice grated through the murmur of the crowd.

“By the bones of the land and the breath of the sky, by the blood that binds beast to spirit, we gather beneath the eye of the Divine. Tonight, the mantle of the realm passes from one hand to another. From the steward, whose shoulders bore the weight of the crown-less years, to the king, chosen by blood.” He turned to Nico, who dropped to his knees.

“Nico of the Bruin,” he intoned, holding a gnarled hand over his bowed head.

“The ring is not only a source of power, but it represents the bond that links spirit and beast, land and ruler. With the Bloodstone Sigil, do you swear to protect these lands, to honor its people, and to wield this power with wisdom and courage, as the Divine decrees?”

“I swear it.” Nico’s voice carried over the crowd, and I felt a knot of tension begin to loosen.

Maybe I’d been too quick to judge. I’d stupidly let Fallon play on my emotions.

Not only would I have to write Gwen immediately and insist she tell Lu my letter had been a false alarm, but now I’d have to explain to the princes why I’d helped steal an obviously important artifact.

The book dug into my skin, a painful reminder of my poor decisions.

“What are you doing, sister?” Fallon and I both jumped at the graveled whisper behind us.

“Gunner!” Fallon slapped his shoulder, scowling. “You know why I’m here. I wasn’t about to stand with our house. We all may be cursed, but I’m not about to give them an easy target.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Look, the ceremony’s going as planned. Nico’s given the oath. All that’s left is for the sage to stop rambling and initiate the transfer of the ring.”

“I’m being ridiculous?” She gestured to a small golden orb at his belt. “I asked you to bring a weapon, not a solric. That thing will blow us all to the afterlife, not just our enemies.”

“One can never be too prepared. Besides, you owe me. I know that you’re wrong, but I brought a weapon anyway. Or did you miss the bow on my back?”

“Once Nico is king, then you can tell me I’m wrong. Until then, I’m staying put.” Fallon turned, focusing back on the ceremony.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a flashy dress if you wanted to hide in the shadows. You’re like a beacon, refracting light like a distress call.”

“Fuck off, Gunner. No one asked you. Go back to being a lapdog for our brother.”

I had to stifle a laugh, which became nearly impossible when Gunner chuckled.

“Johan of the Rapere, your watch has ended. You have been a shield in the storm, a light in the shadowed wood. Do you relinquish the Bloodstone Sigil and with it, the burden of rule?”

The room held its breath. This was the moment Fallon had been so afraid of. I, too waited with bated breath while the entire realm teetered on a precipice.

Johan twisted the ring on his greasy finger. The silence was deafening.

“It has been the honor of my life to be one of many to serve Hiraeth,” he began, his voice echoing off the walls.

“Our realm has seen many great rulers come and go. From the dawn of our kingdom, the Divine granted Hiraeth with the gift of sight. Prophecy was given to the chosen few so that we, the people, would know the Divine’s will. ”

“Curse the damn fates! We don’t need a history lesson. Get on with it, Johan,” Gunner muttered, his stance shifting. He was getting nervous.

“The House of Bruin has led for centuries—a glorious and storied dynasty. But I am ashamed to admit that the Divine’s word has been lost to us.

Lost because some kings refused to share it.

Evil kings, who twisted prophecy to their favor.

Now that I bear the Sigil, it’s revealed all of the secrets the kings before me kept. King Artos was the worst of them all!”

The crowd gasped, chaotic chatter erupting.

“Fucking bastard,” Gunner hissed, reaching for his bow.

Nico stepped forward, fists clenched, restraint etched deep in his scowl. “Johan, you’re skirting a fine line.”

“My father, Herold, was one of Artos’s closest friends. That didn’t stop him from murdering him in cold blood.”

“That’s a lie and you know it!” Nico growled.