Page 66

He stood near the cabins, or what was left of him.

His body looked sewn together like a butcher’s afterthought, sunken eyes staring from a face I barely recognized.

His limbs were too thin, his skin stretched too tight, and everything about him felt wrong in the way only the dead do when brought back as something else.

This wasn’t resurrection. It was reconstruction.

Caius faltered, his voice unsteady. “What in the Gods is that?”

Guards rushed in before I could reach him, dragging me backward as I thrashed.

“KLAUS!” I screamed, flames sparking along my wrists, vision blurring with tears. “Where are you taking him?”

“That’s not Klaus,” Caius barked. “Stay back!”

Rok snapped his fingers, sharp and final. “Enough. Back to sparring.”

But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Not with that standing just feet away, and the sound of my brother’s voice still echoing in my skull.

What had I done?

Kian’s gaze met mine. He’d seen it. He knew I’d touched Klaus. And if Damien had broken into his mind that night I’d searched for water… maybe he’d seen it, too.

Klaus might be too far gone. But Naraic wasn’t. I’d brought him back.

Kian stepped closer and murmured, “I’ll distract Rok. Go.”

I gave a single nod, heart pounding in my chest. While the others returned to sparring, I slipped into the shadows and ran in the direction I’d seen the guards drag him.

I had to find him. I had to know what was left—if there was anything left at all.

Behind one of the cabins, I spotted Callum.

He twirled a blade between his scarred fingers, stationed like a warden outside the door.

I needed to get in. But the windows were laced with coiled wire and barbed thorns, ready to tear through anyone desperate enough to try.

There had to be another way.

A cold hand clamped around my elbow, halting me mid-step. A severed finger scraped along my sleeve. I twisted away, heart pounding. “Bridger,” I hissed once I was free, “let go.”

“I know you want to see him,” he said. “But storming into a cabin full of guards won’t save him. They’ll let you watch. Then they’ll tear what’s left of him apart.”

“He’s my brother,” I snapped. “They’ll destroy him.”

“That’s not your brother anymore.”

“I know. A ripper beast found him. I saw it at the academy.”

Bridger didn’t look away. “Rippers wear the skin of their prey. They bind to the darkest part of the soul and use it as a host. That thing may look like Klaus—but it’s not him.”

“I know,” I whispered. “It sounds like him.”

His gaze drifted toward the cabin. “Damien was right. Ice pours from both my hands. But your flame… it’s fractured. Maybe you didn’t inherit all of it.”

“I still have shadows,” I said, fisting the crescent relic in my other palm. “Ciaran gave them to me.”

Bridger tilted his head. “Are they?”

“What are you saying?”

“They came from him,” he said flatly. “Archer gave you those shadows. You’re not some divine, chosen legacy, Severyn. You don’t have a drop of Night blood in you.”

The air between us shifted. “How do you know that?”

“If Myla were in your place,” Bridger added, quieter now, “I would’ve done the same. ”

“Well,” I said, the words came out before I could stop them, “Myla’s seeing someone else, so maybe don’t.”

The flicker in his expression didn’t satisfy me at all. If anything, it made me feel like a complete asshole. Hearing that news about Myla had hurt him more than I expected, more than I was ready for.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Who is she seeing?”

“Nothing.”

“She’s seeing someone?”

“I wanted to hurt you,” I whispered. “And now I feel like an asshole.”

His jaw clenched. “That certainly felt like a dagger to the heart.”

“You should talk to her. It wasn’t my place to say anything.”

He closed his eyes. “Give me a name.”

“I don’t think you want to know.”

“All I’ve ever wanted was to win. To look you in the eyes and say I beat you. Now tell me who the hell Myla slept with.”

“Then say it,” I challenged. “Say you won.”

“Fine. I won. I claimed the Northern title. I beat the Blanches.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” he said dryly. “Been holding that in a while.”

I let out a breathless laugh. “Then I guess now’s a terrible time to admit Myla slept with my brother.”

His mouth dropped open. “Are you serious—?”

But a scream shattered the night, sharp enough to split the air. It came from inside the cabin.

“I need to get in,” I said, moving toward the door.

Bridger grabbed my wrist. “Let me go first. Callum won’t question me. He thinks I don’t give a damn about you.”

I froze. But he was already moving, slipping inside before I could stop him .

I stayed behind, pressed to the tree, lungs dragging in air too fast, too thin. Klaus was alive. He was here.

“Naraic,” I whispered into our bond.

“I know,” came the answer.

“Klaus is alive.”

“It isn’t him.”

Another scream tore through the air, sharper this time. More broken. I couldn’t wait any longer.

I shoved the door open and stormed inside, heart hammering like a war drum against my ribs. “Don’t hurt him!” I shouted, voice cracking from the force of it.

The air reeked of blood and char. A dim torch guttered in the corner, casting long, flickering shadows across the cramped interior. Callum turned slowly from the door he was guarding deeper inside. His blade gleamed. His mouth curled into that familiar, smug sneer.

“Stay out of this, false heir,” he said.

I nearly flinched at the name but forced my spine straight. “We’re still connected,” I said, stepping forward. Desperation bled into every word. “Naraic... he’s still bonded to him. If you hurt him, it’ll destroy everything.”

Callum took a step toward me, and I felt it then, that invisible tether between Naraic and me quivering like a thread pulled too tight. My skin prickled. My breath caught in my throat.

“He’s still in there. Please, Callum.”

For a moment it was silent.

Then Naraic’s voice slammed through the bond, harsh and unforgiving. “Why are you lying?”

Callum laughed. “And I’m supposed to care?”

He wanted me gone. And he wasn’t going to stop until I was broken enough to leave willingly.

I looked up at Callum. “Please,” I said, my voice cracking. “I just want to see him. ”

He didn’t answer. Just turned down the hallway without a word.

I stepped after him, one hand braced against the wall to keep steady. “You don’t have to torture him,” I said quietly. “Please.”

“Torture?” a voice echoed mildly through a second door.

Charles emerged from the shadows, calm as ever. “Quite the opposite.” He tipped his head toward the room behind him. “You want to talk to him? Fine.”

I paused at the threshold, heart racing. “Are you going to kill him?”

Charles didn’t answer right away. The torchlight hit the hollow of his cheek, throwing harsh shadows across his face.

“That depends,” he said finally. “On what you see. And whether you still believe he’s worth saving.”

Then he turned and disappeared into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

I followed.

The moment I stepped inside, the breath left my lungs. Klaus was shackled to a table, hunched over. His nails were torn down to the quick. Blood spattered the wood in erratic strokes, each smear more frantic than the last.

He was writing.

Words scrawled in red stretched across the surface. They weren’t random. They were sentences. Pleas. Accusations. Names.

I turned to Charles, nausea curling in my gut. “You bastard.”

“He demanded a quill,” Charles said flatly. “We refused. So, he used what he had.”

Klaus sat bound, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His breathing was ragged, unsteady. But his eyes locked on mine with wild intensity. “She claimed my dragon,” he snarled. “Stole my power. Fucked my best friend. ”

His mouth pulled into a jagged smile, lips splitting over bared teeth. The gold in his eyes was gone, replaced by sunken pits—dark and hollow. Just like Mother's had been in the end.

“What’s next, little sis?” he hissed. “Shall I write your death? Archer’s?”

“Klaus,” I whispered, stepping closer, each breath harder to take. “This isn’t you. You love me.”

His voice turned sharp. “I told Mother I would die. And she sent me anyway.”

The chair rocked beneath him, the legs scraping against the floor in a slow, rhythmic tilt, like a cradle turned wrong.

This wasn’t the return I had yearned for.

“Klaus, come back,” I whispered. “Please. Come back.”

He strained against the rope, muscles jerking, fingers writhing like they had minds of their own. “You stole my power,” he groaned, the words growing more guttural. “And I want it back. I want it back. I want it back.”

He was gone.

Whatever sat in that chair wasn’t Klaus anymore, it was a monster wearing his skin. A soul twisted into something feral.

And I had done it.

“I did this,” I whispered.

Charles’s voice came like a blade from behind. “A moment alone, Severyn.”

I stumbled into the cold. The air bit at my skin, sharp enough to anchor me in the moment. Charles followed, his expression grim, shadowed beneath the weight of what we’d just seen.

“Whatever you think you’re going to say,” I said, my voice shaking, “I already know. That’s not Klaus.”

He said nothing. He didn’t need to. His silence was confirmation enough.

“At the academy,” I whispered, forcing the words past the knot in my throat, “I saw it. A ripper beast found his body. It wore him. I thought...” My voice cracked. “I thought I killed him when he went after me.”

Charles’s gaze didn’t flinch. “Then you understand what must be done. This is why your power is forbidden. Not because it’s wicked, but because it can undo what was never meant to be.”

He paused. “I never tried to strip it from you at the king’s estate... not because I believed you were innocent. But because I feared what might happen if I did.”

“You never tried?”

“No. I couldn’t. Not after Klaus.” And for the first time, Charles broke. “Our family was never the same. I couldn’t lose you, too. But I did.”

I don’t know what compelled me to hug him—but I did. “It’s okay.”

“No. Don’t forgive me.”

My chin pressed against his shoulder. “I want to. I desperately want to.”

I had never seen Charles cry. Not in my twenty-two years. “No,” he said. “Don’t forgive me, Sev.”

I pulled back. “Is it possible for Naraic to bond with him again?”

“Dragon roots are complex,” he said, voice low. “But they’re permanent. Like a root threaded through your blood. If we kill Klaus, it could harm you. We won’t know unless Naraic confirms it.”

“Well, shit.”

“Naraic may not have had a choice,” Charles murmured. “He might not even know. When he found Klaus, it was familiar blood. That could’ve been enough.”

My hands started to tremble. “He could choose him again.”

“No.” His eyes locked on mine. “He wouldn’t. And you know it.”

“How can you be sure? ”

“I’m not.” He dragged a hand through his unruly blond hair, the gesture tired, almost boyish. “But I believe he’s still yours.”

“When will you kill him?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” The words scraped out of him. “This is beyond me. It’ll probably come down to a vote.”

I swallowed hard. “Charles... I need you to promise me something.”

He stilled. “I can’t promise anything. But say it.”

I took his cold hand. “If Rok tries to use the civilians of Demetria to control my quell, if they threaten them to force my power—I need you to kill me.”

His jaw clenched. “You think it was easy?”

A tear slid down his cheek, half-frozen. I reached up and caught it before it could fall.

“I forgive you,” I whispered.

Charles buckled. Years of silence and sorrow collapsed with him. I held him as he sank to his knees. “He would’ve been captured,” he said, voice raw. “Forced to write until he died. Killing him was the only mercy I had left.” He choked on the words. “And I live with it every godsdamned day.”

I pulled him closer. “Are there any more secrets?”

His silence was an answer in itself.

“Did you know?” I asked. “Did you know I wasn’t Father’s blood?”

“Hadrian. Hadrian Sinclair is your father.”

“Why would she—why would Mother have a child with him? Do you know what they do to barrens in Wrathi? They sell them. Enslave them.”

Charles’s face fell. “Because our father promised his firstborn daughter to a man who was always two steps ahead.”

He shook his head slowly. “Call it revenge. Call it love. Call it survival. But don’t pretend it was easy. Mother wouldn’t have sent you if she didn’t believe you could earn your name back. ”

“I asked you a question. Did you know?”

He looked at me then, fury rising to the surface. “Now look at you. Heir of Night. In love with the bloodline that tried to ruin us.”

“I had no say in any of this!” I shouted. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you finish at the academy? What happened?”

“Because I failed, Severyn. I gave years to that place, and I was never good enough. Father had more children after me. He never expected us all to fail.”

“You’re lying,” I said, pulse pounding. “Cully told me you were expelled. He said he was the reason.”

Charles’s golden eyes turned to frost. “Then believe I’m the villain, Sev. Because that story? It’s not mine to tell.”

My voice cracked. “Then since I’m not your full-blooded sister… killing me should be easy.”

His breath caught. “I will not,” he said.

And for the first time, I wished he would lie.