Page 140 of The Blood Rites

“You’re... dangerous,” he breathes.

A sound interrupts us—a slow, mocking applause—and we break apart instantly.

Atheron stands at the entrance, his expression bright with delighted contempt.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Quite the show, boys.” His lips curl in a sneer. “I expected better from you, Prince. You can’t both survive. My apologies. Let me rephrase that. Neither of you will survive.”

Kael steps in front of me, shielding me with his body. He is slightly taller than Atheron, but the Fireborn heir radiates malevolence like heat from a forge.

Atheron leans against the entrance, arms folded. “You know, your little Airborn friend almost did it,” he says. “Almost. Then poor Maleiros just had to throw himself in the way.”

He grins at me, all teeth and malice. A caricature. Theatre dressed up as cruelty. I saw him on the dais. Maleiros’ death shook him.

“I won’t make that mistake,” he continues. “When the time comes, I’ll do what needs to be done. You should prepare for that.”

He gives Kael a look of pure loathing. “The games are over. Your father would be so disappointed. If my daughter behaved like this, I’d have her put down.”

Kael doesn’t flinch. He just stands there, a wall of shadow and bone.

Atheron pushes off the frame, straightening. He looks at me, then at Kael, then back at me. His expression can’t settle between hatred and disgust.

“Pathetic,” he spits. “Stop getting in my way, little rabbit, or I’ll make sure you suffer the most.”

“Don’t call him that!” Kael snaps, and I almost laugh. Rich coming from him.

Atheron leaves, a trail of embers hissing in his wake, and the silence that follows is thick with the aftershock.

Kael turns to me, jaw clenched, the beginnings of shadow curling through the whites of his eyes.

“I’ll protect you,” he says, the words almost a snarl. “You’re my little rabbit.”

He says it like it’s different when it comes from him.

But I believe him.

I also know what it’s going to cost.

Loyalty. Brotherhood.

I lean into his chest, letting the rhythm of my heart slow his.

A soft golden light slips from me, grazing his shadows, softening them where they meet between us.

For a while we stay like that.

I don’t think about the future. I don’t think about the next trial or the threats hanging over our heads. I think only of now—the warmth and weight of his arms, and the way the guilt and fear go quiet with him here, holding me up.

The dining hall smells of salt and meat, but Atheron’s words have left ash on my tongue. The tables have been rearranged, their neat lines broken by the absence of so many bodies. The chairs don’t feel empty.

I enter late, trailing the echo of Kael’s touch. He is already there, a shadow among shadows. But Marissa is sitting with him, and she is smiling. That almost shocks me more than anything I’ve seen here. Kael looks up, and our eyes meet. He nods, just once—an invitation.

But I don’t go to him. I spot Morwen, alone at the edge of the hall, her hair pinned in a pale halo, almost washed out against the blue of her uniform. She could be a ghost herself. She sits with perfect posture, as if her spine has been replaced with iron. A plate of food sits untouched in front of her.

I change direction, moving towards her. Kael watches, unreadable, his attention following me across the hall. He turns his focus back to Marissa, though I still feel him on me.

I take the seat across from Morwen. She acknowledges me with a small, dignified tilt of her head.

There are no words. She cannot speak in any case. Just as well. There is nothing to say.