Page 114 of Crown of Wrath

GethinRahnwastheoldest of his generation of Conduits. He was born almost immediately after his father had been made the first King of Steel. He was stronger, faster, and often cleverer than the rest of his generation. He was raised to believe in himself more than any other.

He was a dutiful son, and he would become a wonderful King of Steel.

When his father and the other Conduits gave up their thrones together, he did not shed a tear. He understood—even more than the other Conduits in his generation—that power comes at a cost. He had watched his father age. His father had gone from being the strongest man he’d ever met to a shadow of his former strength.

He knew the weight of the Thrones.

When he claimed the Throne of Steel, he immediately went to Calyr for advice. His father had introduced him when he was still very young, before any of the other Conduits had children.

He was not afraid when he walked into Calyr’s cave and saw the golden scaled dragon, and he did not flinch when the dragonleaped from his bed of gold. Even when Calyr sniffed him, and he first smelled smoke wafting from the dragon’s open mouth, he remained calm.

Only Calyr’s words scared Gethin Rahn.

“Son of Strength,” Calyr says. “You have come for advice.”

Gethin isn’t nervous when he responds. “I have. I am the King of Steel, and I would like advice on how to be the best ruler of the House of Steel I can be.”

Calyr moves closer, his long thin neck curling up like the handle of a teacup, and he stares down at the newly crowned King of Steel. “Your reign is the last one I can see. Ruin is coming, but you could stop it altogether. You will notice the Thrones beginning to fail when the steel begins to fail. You will be the one who can stop it all, but you won’t.”

Gethin wanted nothing more than to be as good a King as his father, so when he hears that his reign is doomed, he takes note rather than disbelieve the dragon. “Why? What can I do differently?”

Calyr pauses for a moment, and his eyes turn bright gold as he stares into the future, his mind walking paths that no other can. After several moments have passed, they become that beautiful myriad of colors again, and he says, “The Conduits will refuse to leave their Thrones. Be vigilant, Son of Strength, for when the steel fails, the Conduits must return to the Thrones and allow others to claim them.”

Gethin smiles at Calyr. He knows the signs that a King has sat on the Throne for too long. He will stay vigilant. He will make sure that no one overstays their time on the Thrones, regardless of what they say. He, the King of Steel, will force the other Great Houses to adhere to the tradition that their parents and the dragons have set. He is strong enough to make sure that no one refuses to leave.

“Thank you, Calyr. I will be vigilant. I will do what it takes to protect Nyth, just as my father did. I have one other question.”

Calyr doesn’t make a sound, so Gethin continues, “My father returned to the void along with the other Conduits, but I have nightmares where I don’t. I feel as though I won’t follow in my father’s footsteps. Instead… instead, I will die elsewhere, far away from the Throne.”

Calyr’s eyes turn golden again, but only for a moment. “If ruin comes to the world, you will not survive. You will die at the hands of a man who was tempered by pain. He will wield a black sword and have dark hair, and he will rip your Throne from you.”

He will wield a black sword and have dark hair. He will have been tempered by pain.

Gethin closes his eyes and nods. He would do everything he could to prevent ruin from coming to Nyth, but if he couldn’t, at least he would know who would kill him. At least there would be no doubt who his greatest enemy was, and if he could defeat that one person, then he and his Throne would be safe.

But first, he would be vigilant. He would watch. He would be the greatest King Nyth had ever seen.

Chapter 57

Never fight one of the Conduits. I cannot stress this more. Do not fight the Conduits. They are nearly immortal in the truest sense of the word, and you are nothing but an ant crossing their path, destined to be crushed under their boot.

~Sir Alistair Hawking, Magical Combat for Humans

Maeve

Power is a strange thing. It’s all relative. When I was a Wyrdling trying to get to Draenyth, a few strands of shadows felt impressive. Then I trained with Cole, and I felt like I could do anything even though I didn’t know I was a part of the House of Earth.

All of that was nothing compared to the power that came with the Painted Crown and the awareness of my Earth bloodlines. Now, I am a Conduit, and I feel like a completely different person. At the same time, I’m terrified that I’m too weak.

Gethin killed Roderic when he had wielded these powers for thousands of years. I’ve been the Conduit for an hour. At the same time, now I understand the difference between the Conduit and literally anyone else.

The ground in front of me swirls in a vortex. Yes, the very ground in this clearing has become liquid, roiling about like a whirlpool. It slowly climbs into the air, a tornado of stone, and then it all collapses as I lose control.

Peace thunders through me, controlling my body and my mind and giving me true ownership of everything that I stand on. The ability to make it move and shift and become more than it knew it could be. The rhythm of Earth… no, the rhythm ofStoneflows through me. It’s soft, unnoticeable to anyone but myself, but it’s impossible for me to miss.

“If you were so inclined, Calyr would give you an audience to ask questions about your future,” Casimir says from beside me. He doesn’t mention the collapsed vortex of stone. He doesn’t mention very much these days, actually.

“I don’t particularly want to know anything that Calyr has to say right now,” I respond. It’s strange to think of Casimir as anything but the enemy, and I know Cole won’t ever think of him as anything else. I know what it’s like to let the power that’s flowing through you take control, though. My emotions have ruled me before. I nearly got Cole killed. I did more to break that obsidian tower than Casimir ever did.

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