Page 22 of The Blood Crown

And that’s when she felt it—a prickle of heat creeping up the base of her skull.

Looking down, light softly crackled between her bound hands. They must have passed through the wards of the Nostari Kingdom . . . which meant their magick had returned to them. She closed her eyes for a moment, pulling at the golden threads of her power. Reaching for the heat that was buried beneath her skin.

It answered, faint and flickering.

Ven’s thighs pressed into hers. “Not here,” he warned, “The shackles suppress magick," he lifted the metal bands around his wrists. "and their weapons are coated in demon venom."

That explained the burning along her wrists, why her cuts weren't healing as quickly.

Their party slowed, and Aurelia lifted her head. The horses followed the curve of the rugged path, and the cliffs fell away into gaping darkness on either side of a narrow bridge.

A sheer mountain face rose above them. The black stone was cut and carved into a fortress. Cleaved from the very mountains as Ravenstone was, Mountveil was all harsh lines and hard edges—none of the meandering beauty that she had come to know. Smudges of white and red moved along its narrow walls, guards patrolling the ledges cut into the cliffs.

Dark arches disappeared into the mountain at intervals, but there were no windows to be seen. Everything about the fortress seemed to swallow up the darkness as they passed under theblack gates. Snow white banners snapped above their heads, emblazoned with a bright red crest—a bleeding fist clutching a dagger.

The Court of Flame.

Chapter 12

Rough hands pulled Aurelia and Ven from their mount, herding them into the belly of the fortress.

Mountveil.

The illusive place Aurelia had only ever seen on the map carved into the moonstone table at Ravenstone. The Wraiths had only spoken of the other court in passing, but what little they said told her enough.

The smell of death clung to the stone walls, her skin crawling—her body begging to find a way out as they went further into the fortress.

Where Ravenstone had been a haven; a beautiful sanctuary carved into the mountains, this place was a cold, dark, prison. A place to contain monsters that could not bear to look at the light.

A dim tunnel stretched forward, emptying into a windowless cavern full of staircases roughly cut into its walls and leading away into the gloom. Torches lined the halls, staining the dark stone black with soot. Even the air felt oppressive here, like it was trying to snuff out the remainder of life inside the mountain.

They were led up a wide series of steps and into another cavern. A dais carved from the black stone sat at the front of the room. In the massive throne lounged a handsome male that looked like he might have been her father’s age if he’d been human. He possessed the ethereal beauty of the Blood Folk, but marring the alabaster skin on the left side of his neck was a wicked scar. A burn mark if she had to guess, but what kind of fire could brand immortal skin permanently?

His hair was a silken sheet of white that flooded down his shoulders. The planes of his face were sharp and unlined, but his eyes were ancient. A pale, milky red, as if time had desperately tried to leech what it could from him.

Adorning his brow was a jagged crown forged from iron that cut into his white skin, leaving streaks of blood so deep red that they looked nearly black as they trailed down his temples. But it seemed it must be a mark of pride, for he did nothing to remove it despite the blood it cost him. At its center was a deep amber colored stone, and in the torchlight it nearly seemed to pulse.

The Nostari King had sided with the King of the Void during the war three hundred years ago—but how many centuries had he lived before that? How many lifetimes had this monster seen?

Flanking either side, pale, grotesquely beautiful faces leered at them, fangs exposed in silent threat as red eyes watched carefully from every direction.

Aurelia looked straight ahead, refusing to show her fear in this mockery of a court. Squaring her shoulders, Ven stalked beside her, doing his best to mask his limp. Karro had been taken away somewhere, and maybe it was a small relief that he was still unconscious and unaware of where they were.

The two kingdoms had been in a stagnant war with each other for centuries. The Captain had taken the ring from her. So why had the Nostari saved them in that clearing?

Fear prickled at the back of her neck as they were brought forward. If the Nostari found out that the King of the Void hunted her—she had no doubt that they would willingly hand her over.

Snarling and hissing erupted as she and Ven were shoved into the center of the room, but the king raised a pale hand and silence fell.

The white female stalked ahead of them, dropping to a knee, clutching her fist to her chest before she stood again. The king smiled at her, the smallest amount of warmth seeping into his expression as her long legs made the ascent to his throne and she handed him the ring.

“You’ve brought me gifts,” he purred, white brows raised in dark delight.

“We found them at the eastern border,” she replied, taking her place at the edge of the throne room.

She must have been the Commander of the guard or some sort of trusted advisor with the place she took beside his throne. Much younger than the rest of the males and females that stood in places of honor, and yet nothing about her demeanor made it seem that she was beholden to any of them. The King’s Justice, maybe.

The king braced both of his pale, powerful arms on the carved throne, standing to his considerable height. His steps were slow and measured as he descended from his dais, and she could nearlyfeelthe power seeping from him as he drew closer, circling like a bird of prey.

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