Page 112 of Crown of Wrath

I have spent a thousand years watching the world, mostly alone, and I have come to conclusions the few priests would share. The most important is this: no one exists in isolation. Mortal or Immortal, all are bound in a web unseen. The farmer depends on the blacksmith who shoes his mule. The blacksmith needs the baker who kneads his bread. The baker survives on the grain the farmer sows. And all of them are tied to the guard they pass in the market each week.

These bonds are more than duty or habit. They are threads of soul and spirit, pulsing with shared moods, unspoken fears, and unacknowledged desires. People covet what their neighbor has not out of greed alone, but because their fates—whether they know it or not—are intertwined.

And the looming shadow of an ending is felt by them all.

Shadows wrap around the weapon dealer’s hand and tighten. He’s an ironwight. Pale skin and paler eyes, he skirts between the physical world and the spiritual world, never completely solid unless he’s been touching metal. The steel he works is hisanchor to the world, and without it, he’d be lost in the ether, barely more than a spirit.

On his pale wrist lies a single black tally mark, a debt for the time that he had lost his place at the market. Without customers to buy his work, he couldn’t afford to have more steel to work, and his anchor to this world would slowly fade.

I made sure he wasn’t pushed out of the normally bustling market of the Hammer District purely because of his race. A small bit of intimidation changed an administrator’s opinion of who could and couldn’t pay for a license to sell their wares. It saved Ferrin’s sanity.

That was seventeen years ago. “Good morning, Ferrin,” I say as he glances down at the shadows around his wrist.

His eyes go wide as he sees me. “It’s time to pay your debt.”

The black mark tingles on his wrist as the magic activates. “What do you need?” His voice is a soft baritone, not gruff like you’d expect from someone who spends most of their days around a forge. Then again, like so many others, when someone was born to do the thing they spend their days doing, it rarely affects them the same way it does others.

“I need you to open the gates to the city for me when the time comes.” My words travel only to Ferrin as I use one of the many tools I gathered when I was playing the role of the Shade: a Siren’s song. I grip the shell as I speak only to him. “I need you to do it silently and without letting anyone know what you are doing.”

He stares at me wordlessly for several long moments. “You are attacking the city,” he says.

“Something like that.” The mark on Ferrin’s wrist burns brightly, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by the pain. Then again, what steelworker is bothered by a bit of a burn?

“You want me to allow you to come into the city and destroy it.” He looks around the market that, while not exactly bustling,is still full of people. “I can’t do that. I will burn out before I help you destroy this place.”

I glance down at the mark that is glowing bright red and beginning to spread up his forearm. I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to destroy Draenyth. I want to save it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” I look into Ferrin’s eyes, and I pull the cloak hood off.

“Prince Cole,” he says softly. “I’d heard whispers, but I hadn’t believed them…”

“I want to give the people the lives they deserve. Not the one that is being forced on them. It’s time to return to the old ways. No more slaves. No more being punished for who or what you are. It’s time that the world stopped being the High Fae’s playground and the rest of the world’s cage.”

Ferrin nods to me. The glowing mark on his wrist disappears almost instantly. “I will do as you say. I will open the gates.”

I nod to him and pull my hood back up, covering my face in shadows once again. Ferrin stops me, his hand going to my arm, and I can feel the strength in him. “Don’t destroy this place. Things need to change, but this city…”

“The city and its people will be as protected as I can keep them. I only need to kill one Immortal, but there will be others that die. That is what happens during…endings.”

Ferrin nods to me and releases my arm. “I will do what you ask.”

I say nothing else as I fall through the world into the void. There are so many debts to call in, and if each is going to take this long, I don’t have nearly enough time.

And it’s time that someone very special gets released from her prison.

Chapter 56

There are five pieces of each Great House. The Throne is the anchor and produces the magic that the world needs so badly. The Conduit allows that magic to flow into the world. The Keep protects the Throne and the Conduit from the rest of the world. The Guardians of each House serve the Conduit. Then there’s the Dragon…

~Maeve Arden, The Future of Magic and Dragons

Maeve

Teeth and claws made of stone are the only things that matter as I stand in front of Echo and try to remind myself that this ismyThrone Room. These aremyGuardians. Whatever they are.

“Stop,” I command as strongly as I can. “I am the Queen of Earth. I wear the Painted Crown, and this is my Keep.”

Most of the sculptures stop moving, their carved eyes focused on me and Echo, but a single one moves from the wall. Standing taller than Rhion, it’s made of a brown agate. Thin lines of varying colors making wave patterns along its body. Long horns extend from its head and curl like a ram. Long canine teeth extend below the creature’s stone lips as a low growl rumbles. Built like a man, it stands on its back legs—legs that end in wicked claws that shine in the sunlight. Wide wings extend, dust shaking from them as it stands ten feet away from me.

“The Queen of Earth?” it asks. Its voice is like two stones grating against each other, rough and unstoppable. “You are not. The Throne has not accepted you yet. Kasan’s power flows through you, but that is not enough to command us.”

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