Page 23

The air was thick with the stench of death and the lingering mist of Lucian’s spells crept across the trampled grass and caressed the bodies of the traitors he had drained of their magic.

I was glad he’d sent Avril away.

She didn’t need to see this.

But she’d already seen too much.

I couldn’t protect her—

Dark shapes moved through the courtyard, dragging even darker shadows behind them. Families of the traitors were gathered like trembling cattle at our feet, and their sobs rose into the frigid night air.

Lucian’s gaze burned with violent light as he brushed off his hands and adjusted his jacket.

“The families,” he said.

I didn’t like his tone. “What about them?”

“Execute them,” Lucian replied.

“What?”

I hadn’t meant to argue, but the word slipped out before I could stop myself.

Lucian’s pale eyes flashed with anger as he met my gaze.

“End them,” he commanded.

The guards he’d brought with him moved to do their master’s bidding, and my brothers flexed their fingers.

Trembling cries of the gathered families closest to us rose in a haunting chorus.

I could almost taste their despair, thick and cloying.

I forced myself into detachment—I knew the same fate could easily be ours if our plans unraveled.

“Weaklings. The whole fucking lot of them.” Bastian stood nearby, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the crowd. His blond hair was like a strange halo and his pale eyes were almost colorless in the torchlight.

“They had no idea we would come for her,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I don’t know why they thought they would survive this.”

“Do you think they planned to kill her?” Bastian asked. “That would have been stupid.”

“I would have burnt the city down,” Valen growled.

Bastian chuckled, but he didn’t argue.

Valen was only saying aloud what we’d all been thinking.

Lucian would have been well within his rights to kill all of them.

I wanted to kill all of them.

The thought of the danger they’d put Avril in—the harm they’d done to her.

“Finish them quickly,” Lucian called out.

Finish them.

But what had they been planning?

Surely they hadn’t just taken her for… nothing? For no payoff? Knowing they would all be slaughtered?

“No,” I said.

Valen’s eyes darted toward me, surprised, while Bastian’s mouth curled into a twisted grin.

Lucian’s expression flickered from impatience to pure venom. The orb that floated at his shoulder pulsed in a steady rhythm, but the mist that swirled around it darkened. “What did you say?”

My shoulders straightened as I faced my father’s cold wrath. I knew he wanted to lash out with his magic. But he hadn’t—not yet.

“If we leave them alive, they’ll be indebted,” I said coolly. “These families could be bound to you through gratitude rather than fear.”

Lucian didn’t blink. “And you think fear is not effective?”

A woman’s scream split the air, and I forced myself not to flinch. Lucian’s icy eyes bored into mine, daring me to challenge him.

“Hatred can replace fear,” I said. “You know that well enough. A true debt is harder to replace.”

I was feeling bold. And angry.

Part of me didn’t care if Lucian lashed out at me.

I kept my eyes focused on him and not on the pulsating orb that floated just behind his shoulder.

Lucian laughed, a cold, harsh sound that bit through me.

But then his laughter stopped as abruptly as it started, and his face contorted with rage.

“Careful, boy ,” he said, “I’m not in the mood for insolence.” His voice dripped with menace, but I didn’t move.

My hands itched for my magic, and I could feel my brothers behind me— what if we struck now?

If I made the first move, they would follow.

But Lucian had just stripped the power of three of his followers—it was barely contained. If he struck back, there was no telling how strong he would be.

It needed time to settle.

Lucian’s fingers twitched at his sides, and the mist that swirled around the glowing orb thickened and spilled down over Lucian’s shoulder.

He had killed for far less than my defiance.

His icy gaze swept over me like a blade. “Perhaps I should set an example.”

I adjusted my stance, just a little, as I prepared for the blow I was certain would come.

But then his face shifted from rage to eerie calm. His pale eyes held a glint of calculation—perhaps an interest in how far he could push me.

Then his focus drifted.

What was happening?

“I shall show mercy,” he said suddenly, “for Avril’s sake.”

The sound of her name on his lips made my insides twist.

“She has…” A small smile curved over his lips and he brushed his fingertips over them.

Vile.

The spell of his memory seemed to dissipate, and he inhaled sharply and looked up at me once more. “She has shown me an affection I did not expect,” he continued. “But I wish to encourage such behavior … She asked for their lives to be spared, and so I shall do this… for her.”

“You want to please her?” I said through gritted teeth.

I saw it. The flicker in his eyes as I asked.

His hand moved from his side and clamped onto my shoulder. I braced for the wrench of power or the snap of bone, but his grip was almost light.

“If I did what honor commands I do—” He paused, considering. “She would be quite upset. She is a delicate, melancholy creature. I want her... happy.”

Rage boiled beneath my skin.

How dare he play the part of a caring lover.

I wished I could rip the lie from his mouth and make him choke on it.

I exchanged quick glances with Valen and Bastian. Their eyes flared with anger before they shifted to careful neutrality.

I couldn’t let him see my hatred.

Lucian turned to the guards, an unsettling smile on his lips. “Leave them alive.”

The families were pushed toward the entrance, stumbling over bodies as they went.

Lucian released his hold on my shoulder and whispered as he passed, “You’re slipping, Titus. I won’t always be in such a forgiving mood.”

He turned away, dismissive and arrogant.

“Burn it all down,” he said without looking back.

The guards leapt into action, dragging bodies toward the fortress as the families of the surviving traitors hurried from the courtyard with their loved ones.

This kind of mercy was unexpected—especially from Lucian.

The fact that Avril had kissed him—it made my skin crawl.

I knew she’d done it for a reason.

It had to be an act.

I didn’t want to think about it.

I strode toward the fortress. Lucian’s burly guards threw the last of the bodies through the doors and into the hallway. I could just see the edge of their robes in the darkness.

“At least we get to burn it,” Bastian said as he fell in beside me while Valen trailed a few paces behind. “Father gets what he wants in the end, doesn’t he?”

I clenched my jaw until it ached. “Not everything.”

Valen’s gaze was like a weight on my back, and I spun around to face him. “Spit it out. Whatever you have to say—say it now.”

Valen’s dark blue eyes held mine. “She didn’t mean it,” he said. “She wanted to save them—he would have taken all of their power.”

Bastian snorted. “She was doing us a favor. Is that what you’re saying?”

Valen nodded. “Avril hates him almost as much as we do—maybe more. She would never—”

His voice trailed off.

“We don’t have time to argue about this,” I said.

“Titus, we’re running out of time,” Valen said in a low voice. “If we don’t act—”

“We will,” I said, cutting him off.

I turned back to the fortress and glared at the dark gray stone structure.

Lucian’s guards stood to the side, arms crossed over their broad chests.

“Are they all inside?” I called out.

A nod in response.

I didn’t wait, and my brothers knew what needed to be done.

We stopped mid-stride and the pressure of their magic vibrated in the surrounding air.

“At your command, father,” I said.

The pale blue of Valen’s magic lit his features, and darkness seemed to gather around Bastian as they drew on their power and hurled their projectiles in unison. Valen’s streaked into the shattered door and after a moment’s hush, blue flames erupted from the darkened hallway. Bastian’s projectile, a smoking ball of black flame, struck the side of the tower and sent a tremor through the building as masonry crashed to the ground.

Bastian laughed wildly as he hurled another ball of flame at the fortress. I added my own violence to the attack, and it didn’t take long for pale green flames to burst from the windows of the second floor cells.

“Let’s go,” Valen urged.

“You go ahead,” Bastian called out. His expression was on the edge of crazed as he watched the bright flames consume the Spire. “I want to watch it come down.”

Valen hesitated, but I pushed his shoulder to make him move. “Leave him.”

He nodded and fell into step with me as I strode across the courtyard. The ground shuddered as more stones fell, but I didn’t turn.

I didn’t need to.

A dinner party.

After everything he’d done. After the attack on our family, on Avril. He wanted to put us on display…

Fucking ghoul.

Bastian had tried to get out of it, but attendance was mandatory.

That had been clear enough.

My brothers were angry. I was angry. But there was nothing we could do.

Lucian’s revenge on the traitors had been performative.

But I stayed silent as we entered the dining hall.

The room was full, but the atmosphere felt wrong. The energy was strange.

The remnants of Lucian’s followers and Messana’s elite mingled like nervous cattle in a slaughterhouse.

Every smile seemed false, and their eyes darted too quickly.

They were frightened—terrified.

And Lucian reveled in it.

“She’s not here,” Valen said under his breath, eyes scanning the crowd.

“That’s obvious,” I snapped.

I knew where Avril was.

Locked in her cage.

At least she was safe.

But we hadn’t seen her since the rescue—hadn’t spoken to her.

She was in the house, but still out of our reach.

Her absence burned more than I wanted to admit.

The grand table stretched out before us, gleaming with polished silver and velvet drapes. Crystal chandeliers cast a ghostly light that bounced off the fragile smiles of the guests.

“They don’t look happy,” Bastian said in a low tone that sounded more amused than anything.

“Should they?” I hissed. “They all know what Lucian’s capable of.”

Bastian snorted. “As if they didn’t know before.”

The conversation was the same as it always was—trite and boring. But there was something else, too. I could hear the murmur of speculation about the wedding, and someone even dared to discuss the fates of the remaining members of the Council. They spoke in hushed tones, careful not to let their fear slip through the cracks.

Lucian stood near the bar and a table set with towers of exotic finger food. He held a glass of blood-red wine, but his pale eyes scanned the crowd of guests. His presence dominated the room, commanding attention with an aura that was both charismatic and lethal.

I wondered how he had managed to gather so many of his followers together at a time like this—so soon after the violent reckoning that had played out in the Spire's courtyard.

It was purposeful, of course.

A display of our power and nonchalance.

They had struck at the very heart of Lucian’s control—and he seemed untouched by it all.

Purposeful.

He raised his glass, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and tapped the blade of a blackened silver dagger against the side. The clear chime of it rang out over the hum of conversation, and the voices hushed almost instantly.

“My friends,” he said with a smooth smile that was equal parts menace and charm, “you have all been waiting for this news.” The crowd seemed to lean toward him—like moths to flame. He took a breath. “I am finally ready to announce— After far too long a delay, I shall, once again, be the happiest of men. In three days’ time, there will be a wedding at Withermarsh.”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

It had seemed so far away—the finality of it.

But the months had swept by.

Bastian’s smile froze, and only the faintest twitch of his lips betrayed his shock. Valen’s face drained of color and his fingers tightened around the cut crystal glass in his hand.

I forced myself to stand still.

Lucian’s gaze swept over us, lingering for just a moment before he continued.

“A celebration of strength and loyalty, something that is long overdue.”

“Fucking unbelievable,” Bastian muttered.

He and Valen exchanged urgent looks.

We had expected an announcement, but not so soon.

Not with such finality.

The window of time for us to act was shrinking fast—

Three days. We didn’t have much time.

Applause rippled through the room and rose in volume as Lucian moved among his guests with the grace of a predator. He offered charming smiles and empty reassurances, but left a trail of whispers in his wake.

“Where is the bride?” someone called out. “We must congratulate her—”

Lucian’s laughter was light and indulgent. “My dear Avril is preoccupied with the wedding plans,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “You understand, Janna. Fittings for her gown—the flowers—”

More applause followed his words, and my stomach churned.

“We have to talk to her,” Valen said, his voice almost lost in the din of forced laughter and stilted conversation. “Tonight.”

I watched Lucian work the room, but more importantly, I saw how the guests flinched at his approach even as they feigned delight at being singled out for a conversation.

“I don’t think that’s going to be possible,” I said and took a long swig of whiskey. “Not after this little show.”

Lucian lingered over each interaction, making sure that everyone saw how at ease he was. As though nothing had happened.

As though Avril hadn’t been stolen and tortured—as though the Council hadn’t rebelled against him in the most vile way possible.

He clasped a loyalist’s shoulder with false camaraderie and leaned in to murmur something in the man’s ear. I saw the slight tremor in the man’s hand as he nodded, a smile frozen on his lips.

“Do you think he’s lying?” Valen asked. “Do you think she’s really planning this wedding?”

Lucian’s eyes caught mine from across the room, and I forced myself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t know,” I said.

I could imagine how he’d told her.

I could picture her pale face and the way she might have reacted.

I hated him for that. For everything.

Bastian slammed his empty glass down on the table beside us. “I can’t believe he’s going through with it.”

“I can.”

I turned my attention back to Lucian as though studying his movements would give me the answers I needed.

The surrounding guests wore masks of civility, but the fear was unmistakable.

They didn’t know where their loyalties should lie, not with the rumors of the Black Council’s failed rebellion.

Not with the looming shadow of Lucian’s cruelty.

“he’s going to just… pretend it didn’t happen,” Bastian said. His voice held a note of what could have been mistaken for awe. But I didn’t want to suspect that my brother couldn’t be trusted.

Not now.

“We can’t let this happen,” Valen said.

The crowd parted like water around Lucian as he accepted more congratulations and promises of support and favor.

“We won’t,” I said.

But the words felt empty as they slipped from my mouth.

What was he planning?

Whatever it was, if we didn’t move fast, we would all end up on the wrong side of it.

The party had been grotesque, but Lucian hadn’t gone out of his way to speak to us.

He’d wanted us there for the announcement.

Nothing more.

As the festivities continued in the ballroom, and they opened new crates of wine and champagne, we found our exit and took our leave.

My head buzzed with the whiskey I’d drunk, and I knew it would be easy to wallow in desperation.

If I were weak or prone to despair, a fresh bottle of whiskey would have been in my hand.

I wouldn’t even have needed a glass.

We descended into the bowels of Withermarsh, swallowed whole by the sprawling beast of the mansion.

Darkness enveloped us.

Suffocated us.

Comforted us.

The air was damp and cold. If it wasn’t so familiar, it would have been oppressive.

The faint blue glow from Valen’s magic lit the pathway, and our strides were quick and sure as we made our way to the hidden chamber.

Bastian pushed ahead of me and leaned into the wooden door to push it open. He reached the weapons rack first and pulled daggers from the wall with quick, agitated movements. Valen followed, but more slowly.

He’d brought the whiskey with him.

No glass.

“She’s as good as his,” Bastian said. He tossed a dagger into the air and caught it deftly by the blade. “He’s mocking us, you know that, right?”

“I’m starting to wonder if he planned everything,” Valen said. “You saw the way he controlled them— It all feels purposeful.”

“Are you insane ? He didn’t plan the Council’s revolt,” I argued. “The old man can’t control everything.”

But I couldn’t be certain.

Was Lucian’s nonchalance really an act? Or was it something else?

Bastian laughed, a cold, humorless sound that bounced off the damp stone. “It doesn’t matter. After those words are spoken, she’ll be bound to him forever.”

I picked up a knife and tested its balance.

None of us wanted to think about that.

She was ours.

Those were the words that mattered.

Ours.

We took turns throwing blades at the target on the far wall, each thud echoed in the room as our suspicions festered in our brains.

Valen took a swig of whiskey from the bottle and picked up a knife. “We should have killed him in the courtyard,” Valen said. He threw the blade, and it quivered in the wood as it struck the target dead center.

“Do you really think that would have worked?” I asked, my voice tight with anger. “If we’re dead, Avril is— Who will protect her from him?”

“That’s not fair,” Bastian said as he sent another blade into the wood with lethal precision. “She’s not as weak as you think she is, Titus. She might survive a few days without us.”

I felt the blame before they voiced it: the accusation that it was my hesitation that put us in this situation.

“We underestimated him,” Valen said, his eyes narrowing. “We should have known better.”

“We had no fucking choice,” I snapped. “Lucian has been… unpredictable. His paranoia is dangerous.”

Valen’s gaze met mine. He wanted answers, wanted to know if I could admit I’d been wrong.

That wasn’t fucking happening.

“We’re out of time,” Valen said. “When it’s over— We won’t get near her.”

“He’ll be watching her like a hawk,” Bastian agreed, and then he shuddered. “Don’t make me think about the wedding night—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled. “He’s not going to touch her.”

A cold certainty filled my veins like poison. Valen was right. We were running out of time, out of options.

“Tonight we plan. If we fail, we’re all dead.”

Bastian chuckled and flung another blade at the target.

Valen took a swig of whiskey.

We were all thinking it, but no one wanted to say it.

If the wedding was allowed to go ahead, Avril wouldn’t survive it.

None of us would.