The gate to the Thrynn Chambers groaned open. The room stretched wide into the gloom, its walls carved from black stone that seemed to drink the violet firelight of the torches.
A dozen Veythar were already assembled, their tall, motionless figures like statues carved from the night itself.
This was no council of advisors; it was a court of predators, and the air hummed with the electric tension of a hunt.
At the center of the chamber knelt the remaining High Court guard. His wrists were locked in shadow-forged cuffs that hissed with an energy that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end.
He was a pathetic sight—pale, slick with a feverish sweat, his body racking with tremors.
His eyes darted with a frantic, unfocused energy, his head jerking as if he were recoiling from unseen lashes.
I lingered in the mouth of the archway as Talon stepped past me. He moved with a deceptive grace, carrying himself as though the dagger had never tasted his blood.
Not even a wince twitched in place of that stoic mask.
The Veythar shifted almost imperceptibly, their heads bowing the smallest fraction in recognition of their leader.
Talon’s booted feet stopped before the guard, the toes of his shoes close enough to touch the guard’s kneeling knees.
“You arrive in my city unbidden,” Talon said, his voice calm. “You struck at me within my walls. Now, I urge you to speak. Why did the High Court send you here?”
The guard shuddered, his lips working soundlessly. His eyes rolled back briefly, and when his voice finally broke through, it was hoarse.
“We were told… the fugitive was released,” he gasped, his gaze flickering toward me for a heartbeat before wrenching back to the Talon.
My stomach clenched, heat rising beneath my skin.
“The High Court does not breach the borders for whispers,” Talon said, his quiet tone making the guard flinch. “How did you know he had been freed?”
The man’s breathing became a series of frantic hitches. He shook his head violently, his fists striking his own skull in a desperate attempt to quiet whatever voices were screaming in his mind. The clang of the cuffs against his bone echoed through the hollow chamber.
“They are always watching,” he choked out, his voice dissolving into a whimper. “They see everything. Nowhere is safe from their eyes.”
A frown tugged at my brow.
My mind flashed to Leona, to the way she manipulated the ancient vines of the keep to see through the stone and soil. But I brushed the thought away as quickly as it came.
That was a Veythar power, a manipulation of spirit and earth that no mortal could ever hope to replicate. Humans were blind to such things. They must have stationed spies near the border, or perhaps there was a traitor whispering in the dark.
The guard’s eyes found mine, wide and spilling over with a terror that made my knees weak.
“You,” he whispered. “They wanted you. You are the reason—”
“Silence,” Talon commanded.
The man’s words died in his throat. He sagged forward, his chin dropping to his chest as sweat dripped onto the obsidian floor.
Talon bent over the guard’s slumped figure. He loomed over the man, his shadow stretching long across the floor, swallowing the guard whole.
“I hope you understand that your kingdom has failed you. They sent you here to die.”
“Please,” the man begged. “I am only a soldier. I have a family… a life.”
For a moment, I could not breathe. The raw desperation in his voice cut through my defenses. He was a person. He was a father, or a son, carrying out orders he likely feared to disobey.
Talon did not waver. He looked down at the man as one might look at a rusted, useless tool.
“By sending you here, the High Court has offered us a gift,” he mocked. “And we are not a species who waste what is given.”