Page 33 of Blood Court (Cursed Darkness #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY

LYSITHEA

The chains turn to a golden snake that slithers up Verik’s thighs, hissing as they cross the molten veins of his throne.

He struggles against it, hellfire sputtering uselessly against its ancient magic.

I try to rise, to go to him, but I’m pinned to my own seat by an invisible weight.

Dathan and Evren are in the same predicament, prisoners on their own thrones.

“Is this you?” he growls at me.

“What?” I croak. “No!”

“I think he means your familiar,” Dathan says, staring at the snake. “It looks similar.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Not me,” I grit out.

“Fair enough,” Dathan says, hands up.

The snake decides to abandon Verik and turn on Dathan.

“Teach you to keep your mouth shut,” Verik says, relief on his face as Dathan becomes the focus.

But the snake soon decides Dathan isn’t worth bothering with and turns its attention to Evren.

The snake tilts its head and slithers over to the Bone Harbinger.

The golden snake coils around Evren’s wrist, its scales gleaming against his pale skin. He doesn’t struggle like Verik did. He just watches it with that unnerving stillness of his, like he’s cataloguing its movements for future reference.

“You,” the snake hisses, making my blood run cold.

“No!” I shout. “Evren is not standing trial!”

The snake turns to me and hisses sharply. “Not the Harbinger. His resurrector.”

Evren’s eyes widen, but he makes no sound. He doesn’t know who it was, and now he is about to come face-to-face with whoever brought him back from the dead.

I watch in horror as the snake’s golden coils tighten around Evren’s arm. His face goes completely blank, that mask of ice settling over his features like armour. But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his free hand grips the bone armrest of his throne.

“Who brought you back?” the snake hisses, its voice like silk over steel. “Who dared to cheat death itself?”

Evren’s mouth opens, then closes. No sound emerges. Not because he chooses silence this time, but because he genuinely doesn’t know. The confusion in his pale eyes is stark, vulnerable.

“Answer,” the Court’s voice booms, making the chamber tremble.

“He doesn’t know!” I shout, fighting against the invisible force pinning me to my throne. “Leave him alone!”

The snake’s head whips toward me, its eyes like molten gold. “The Nox Siren speaks for the dead?”

“I speak for him, so he doesn’t have to,” I snarl, my shadows trying to respond but finding nothing to grasp. “Always.”

Verik’s hellfire flickers, testing the boundaries of whatever’s holding us. “This is bullshit. You can’t judge someone for something they didn’t do.”

“The resurrection was performed,” the snake states, uncoiling slightly from Evren’s arm. “Someone used forbidden magic. Someone broke the natural order.”

“You should know who you are accusing if you are accusing someone,” I state with as much authority as I can.

The snake’s golden eyes narrow to slits, and I can feel its ancient rage radiating through the chamber like heat from a forge. “The Court knows all, Nox Siren. The question is whether justice will be served.”

“Justice?” I laugh, the sound sharp and brittle in the oppressive silence. “You want to punish someone for giving him life?” My voice cracks on the last word, raw emotion bleeding through my attempt at defiance.

The snake uncoils completely from Evren’s arm, dropping to the stone floor with a soft thud. It grows, its golden scales expanding until it towers over us, a serpent the size of a dragon. Its head hovers directly in front of my throne.

“The resurrection was performed by one with great power.”

“Who was it?” I grit out, trying not to breathe in the scent of this creature from the depths of hell.

If snakes could smile, that’s what it is doing right now.

“Someone you all look up to. Someone you know.”

It hits me like a ton of bricks. “Thane Blackgrove.”

The golden serpent’s eyes gleam with malicious satisfaction as the name hangs in the air between us. Blackgrove. Of course it’s fucking Blackgrove.

“The Headmaster of DarkHallow Academy stands accused of violating the natural order,” the serpent hisses, its massive form coiling around the base of our thrones. “He raised the dead without permission. Without payment.”

My mind races. Blackgrove brought Evren back? Why? The questions pile up in my skull, but one thing cuts through the chaos with crystal clarity. They want to punish him for saving Evren.

“Good,” I snarl, my voice echoing off the chamber walls. “I hope he violated every fucking law you have.”

The serpent’s head snaps toward me, those molten gold eyes burning with ancient fury. “You approve of this transgression?”

“I approve of Evren being alive,” I shoot back, my shadows finally responding, creeping along the edges of my throne like living ink. “Judge me for it.”

Dathan growls softly. “Careful, Thea. Don’t give them ideas.”

The serpent ignores him, its massive head weaving hypnotically as it studies me. “The Headmaster must answer for his crimes. He will be brought before this Court.”

In the next instant, Blackgrove is standing in the middle of the Blood Court, a look of murderous rage on his face.

His midnight-black coat is immaculate despite being magically yanked from wherever he was.

His glowing blue eyes scan the chamber, cataloguing threats with the clinical efficiency of a predator.

When his gaze settles on the four of us, magically pressed into these thrones, something dangerous flickers across his features. More dangerous.

“Thane Blackgrove,” the serpent purrs, its massive head swaying like it’s about to strike. “You stand accused of violating the natural order. Of raising the dead without divine sanction.”

Blackgrove doesn’t even glance at the creature. His attention remains fixed on us, and I can see the wheels turning behind those cold eyes. He’s calculating. Planning.

“You idiots destroyed the old Court,” he says, and it’s not quite a question.

“They had it coming,” Dathan snarls from his shadow-wreathed throne.

A ghost of a smile touches Blackgrove’s lips. “Quite.” He finally turns to face the serpent, straightening his cufflinks with deliberate calm. “You want to discuss resurrection magic? Very well. But first, release my students from this Court.”

The serpent’s laughter is like glass breaking in reverse. “Students? These are Arbiters now. They chose their path when they slew their predecessors.”

“They chose survival,” Blackgrove corrects, his voice dropping to that dangerous register I’ve heard him use on particularly stupid students. “Something you might consider seeing as who you are threatening.”

I chew the inside of my lip. We are up shit creek in a boat with a big hole that is leaking in. We are trapped between Blackgrove and the Blood Court, and I don’t like our odds. Where is the damn grimoire when you need it?

The serpent’s golden scales ripple as it shifts its attention back to Blackgrove, and I watch the standoff between two forces I can’t begin to comprehend. My throat feels raw, my magic still sluggish despite being back.

“Thane Blackgrove threatens this Court?” the serpent hisses, its voice dripping with amusement.

Blackgrove’s smile is like winter frost. “That would appear to be the case.”

The snake lunges forward, stopping inches from Blackgrove’s face. Blackgrove doesn’t even flinch.

“Settle the balance. A life for a life,” it spits out.

“Do you have anyone particular in mind?” Blackgrove asks, bored as fuck by all accounts.

The snake slithers back. “Your choice.”

“Very well,” he says and snaps his fingers.

I gasp when Reena stumbles into the Blood Court, summoned by the Headmaster of DarkHallow Academy.

“No,” I say slowly, as the realisation hits me in the heart. “No!”

A stake appears in Blackgrove’s hand.

“No!” I roar, making the Blood Court tremble under the force. The snake recoils from the onslaught, and Reena’s eyes bleed.

“Fuck! Fuck!” I gasp, shoving my hands into my hair. There is nothing I can do. Blackgrove is immune to my power.

I watch in absolute horror as Blackgrove slams the stake into Reena’s chest and she explodes into a cloud of dust.

Reena is gone. Dust and memory scattered across the Blood Court floor. I’m speechless. The guys are silent, but I can sense a wave of relief coming from them that makes me grimace. I wasn’t friends with Reena long enough to form any sort of major bond with her, but wow. Blackgrove is cold.

He doesn’t even look at me. His eyes are fixed on the golden serpent, which has coiled back on itself, apparently satisfied with the sacrifice.

“The balance is restored,” the serpent hisses, its massive form shrinking back to its normal size. “The debt is paid.”

I open my mouth to blast Blackgrove from here to next week when he holds up one finger to me, still not looking at me. “Reena was her father’s daughter,” he states before he turns to face me fully.

I blink, wondering what he means, before it sinks in and my face hardens. “She is the one who poisoned me?”

He nods once.

“What do we do now?” Verik asks from the other side of the chamber, clearly over this shitshow and Reena’s death already.

Blackgrove’s cold gaze sweeps over us, taking in the sight of four reluctant Arbiters chained to ancient thrones. “Now you learn to do your jobs properly.”

“Our jobs?” I spit. “We didn’t ask for this!”

“You destroyed the previous Court,” he states matter-of-factly. “Monsters need a court. Someone must serve.”

“And if we refuse?” Dathan asks.

The golden serpent, now coiled around the base of my throne, hisses softly. “The Court is eternal. Arbiters serve until death or replacement.”

“Replacement,” Verik growls, testing the bonds holding him to his molten seat. “You mean until we find some other poor bastards to take over.”

Blackgrove’s smile is razor thin. “Precisely.”

“Don’t fancy it, do you?” Verik shoots back.