Page 41 of A Trial of War
The guards didn’t know where to look. At the flames, at my brother, or at me—the madman grinning with a forced calm in the middle of a potential massacre.
“Alright, everyone, let’s all take a collective breath,” I said, sweeping my arms out as though I was the conductor of this orchestra of panic. “Preferably before we all turn into a delightful pile of cinders. It would be a shame to destroy such a beautiful palace.”
Skylar’s gaze snapped to me, sharper than the alpha’s dagger. Her flames flared in warning, a shimmering wall separating us from the humans.
“Castor,” Daxton said with a quiet edge.
“I’m handling it. One of us has to keep their head.” I glanced at the wolves at Skylar’s side.
So much for diplomacy.
I raised my voice again, flashing the guards my most disarming grin. “Gentlemen! Let’s think this through, shall we? Two shifters are prepared to rip your faces off, and you have one very angry alpha with fire literally pouring from her hands. Maybe put the swords down before someone’s eyebrows end up permanently singed?”
One of them flinched as Skylar’s flames snapped closer, licking the edge of his armor. He stumbled, sword clattering to the marble. The rest followed in a rush of panic. The ring of dropped steel echoed like rain against stone.
“There we go,” I said brightly, clapping once. “That’s the spirit. Cooperation. I love it. Now, Skylar…”
The flames hesitated, then drew back, curling toward Skylar’s palms like obedient serpents. Her breathing was uneven, the glow along her skin dimming.
Daxton was freed and stepped toward his mate. His voice was low as he spoke to her, soothing her nerves as they reunited. I caught the faint shift of Skylar’s shoulders, a tremor of relief rolling through her as the flames flickered.
The humans, to their credit, remained wisely quiet.
“Well,” I exhaled, surveying the mage’s blood staining the floor. “That could have gone worse.”
Daxton shot me a look—one that said this wasn’t over, and I’d better not entice them further.
So, naturally, I grinned wider.
I glanced around at the trembling humans, the scorched banners, and the melted gilding dripping from the throne like candlewax.
“On the bright side,” I murmured, “they’ll never forget this meeting.”
“No, you won’t.”
Every fiber and muscle in my body tensed as she glided in, flanked by two guards who looked far too calm for the carnage they’d witnessed. Her voice still haunted my nightmares.
“Minaeve,” I breathed, the name tasting like rotten fruit on my tongue.
Daxton went still beside Skylar. Her fingers clenched around his sleeve, and for once, my brother’s composure cracked.
The human king rose from his throne, his smile wide and shining like polished bone. “Ah,” he said, his voice carrying over the silence like oil over water. “I see you’ve all had your… reunion.” He gestured grandly toward the woman now standing before him. “Allow me to introduce my new queen.”
Réalta’s face paled beside her father.
Interesting, she clearly didn’t know about this little twist either.
My laughter broke the silence before I could stop it—an incredulous sound that bounced off the scorched marble.
“Youmarriedher?” I asked, voice dripping in disbelief. “There weren’t any other offers worth your time?”
The king’s smile didn’t waver. Minaeve’s eyes, however—those cold, perfect turquoise eyes—found mine.
She smiled, slow and deliberate. “You talk too much, Castor.” Her voice slid across the air like silk over a blade.
I forced a grin anyway. “And you still have terrible taste in men, I see.”
Her expression didn’t change, but the faintest curl of power lifted her hair. The space around her warped like a heated haze.
