Page 54 of The Sun King's Noon

Richard skidded to a stop before the platform. His chest heaved. The panicked clamour around him fell away, drowned out by a high-pitched buzzing in his ears.

No.

The mark at his neck pulsed, and a voice came from behind. A voice that crooned in his nightmares, that roused memoriesof wandering hands and promises of conquest. Low, silken and intimate.

“It has been too long, beloved.”

Richard turned.

And Galdran smiled.

CHAPTER 22

Richard swung his sword, arcing it towards the pale column of Galdran’s throat, every instinct screaming to kill, kill,kill?—

Galdran caught the blade an inch from his neck, pinching the flat of the steel between two fingers.

“Ah-ah.” He clicked his tongue, golden eyes dancing. “Careful where you swing, beloved.”

A shiver crept up Richard’s spine. He had forgotten the elf’s cruel beauty. The sharp cheekbones, the pointed ears jutting through whitish-blond hair, the luminescent skin. He had also forgotten the way his own heart thundered, and his knees trembled.

Galdran released the sword and adjusted his emerald robes. They pooled to the floor, the silver stitchwork of leaves and vines shimmering under the light. From angular, wing-shaped shoulder guards, a gauzy cape flowed.

“I advise you to keep your blade down, Lumethain,” Galdran said. “You would not wish me to lose my concentration, lest I stop their hearts as well as their limbs.”

Richard’s sword dropped as he took in the terrible silence surrounding him. Slowly, he swivelled. His stomach rolled, andfor an instant, the urge to vomit rose too sharply. But he clenched his jaw and took in a deep breath.

Every soul in the Great Hall stood frozen.

The duke Richard had shoved past was mid-stumble, a leg lifted, arms splayed. The baroness who’d been fleeing had her mouth open in a soundless scream. Servants, soldiers, diplomats, musicians—hundreds of bodies locked in place.

But their eyes moved.

Pupils darted, rolled, and flicked in all directions. A serving girl’s lashes fluttered wet in quick, panicked blinks. At the far right wall was Kaelen. His eyes were narrowed, tracking Richard with a desperate strain. He held an arm outstretched against Corwin’s chest. Briony clung to Corwin’s waist, and by them, Elara glared daggers at Galdran.

Richard sheathed his sword. “Blood magic?”

Galdran laughed, folding his hands behind his back and rocking back on his heels.

“Is that what Ardenians call it? We call it the Bind. One of my many gifts.” Galdran strolled through the frozen crowd. He passed a serving girl, peered at her tray of pastries and selected a slice of custard pie.

“Delightful,” he said, chewing. “Your kitchens are inspired, but the filling is grainy, and the bottom a touch unbaked. You must inform them to lower the oven temperature.”

Richard sneered. “What do you want, Galdran?”

The elf stopped before Dianara, who stood by the main doors. Unlike the others, Dianara’s fingers were moving, their eyes blazing purple.

Galdran hummed. “Your Chief Mage resists my Bind too well. It would be better for them to sleep.”

Richard’s breath hitched. “Do not?—”

Vines erupted from the marble floor, cracking tiles and whipping up Dianara’s legs and torso. The mage slammedagainst the doorpost. Their head struck wood with a sickening crack, and they collapsed limp, staff clattering away.

Richard blinked, and Galdran was in front of him.

“Have you missed me?” Galdran asked.

Richard eyed the unicorn heart slung around the elf’s neck. It glowed white, the heart of a First Creature, granting Galdran the power to appear and reappear where he pleased.