Page 73 of A Fate Everlasting

Dante’s voice rang through the Sanctum. “Indeed. Evermore was founded by High Daemons centuries ago, it was built as a war college. A place where students were trained not to fear the Rift, not to fear Elsewhere, but tofightfor it. We’ve lost our way.”

“We are here to see Evermore returns to its former glory.” Verrine nodded, deferent. Theywereworking together. Verrine and Dante…all this time.

Dante’s eyes found mine through the throng. For a split-second, everything else fell away—the crowd, candles, even Verrine’s wicked smile. His words, when they returned, felt likethey were meant for me. “There is only one way forward now. Evermore must remember what it is. I am here to see it done.”

Verrine glided to his side. Her hand brushed against his back, a cruel smile curling her lips. She turned to the crowd, a swell in her chest. “While the High King is away, Evermore will answer to its rightful regent.” She beamed at him. “Dante Darkblood, the Prince of Elsewhere. The rightful heir and true protectorate of the Rift.”

There was not a single gasp or murmur. The entire room stilled, like the beating heart of Evermore had stopped.

The words didn’t register at first. They felt wrong in my ears, like static.Dante. Prince of Elsewhere.I couldn’t piece them together, they didn’t fit. They echoed again and again, circling until they twisted into an unrelenting ring. I blinked, but the world wouldn’t come back into focus.

He couldn’t be.Couldn’t be. Couldn’t be.Whatever connection I felt with him, with the Thread, wrenched away. And in the hollow it left behind, something dark bloomed.

Verrine was smiling. Dante wasn’t denying it.My skin turned cold. Of course he hadn’t warned me. Of course he’d let me step blindly into this. All Dante ever did was lie. Whateversmall thingI’d felt for him curdled in my chest.

The crowd erupted in forced applause, the sound muffled in my ears. I couldn’t hear. Couldn’t breathe. Dante wasn’t scanning the room, drinking it in. He was watching me. Dorian’s hand gripped tight to my thigh.

As Dante ascended the steps to the throne, the ether in the air bent, flickering, and all at once every student was forced to their knees. I felt the pull, but I was used to the Thread manipulating me, practiced in this. I resisted.

“Evermore hasn’t used the Sanctum throne room since the Scission War,” Dorian murmured. “We haven’t had a regent since Evermore was agreed to respect the balance.”

The urge to kneel intensified. I felt my wound tug at its seams, but willed each and every muscle to lock, to fight it. Warmth bloomed under my ribs again, turning resolve into agony. Dorian’s hand snaked around my wrist and tugged,hard.My knees buckled, the pain sharp. Against my will, I complied.

Dante flicked his wrist idly, his sleeve shifting. I saw it then, the glint at his wrist, Lumen wrapped around it like a trophy. I shuddered at the thought that it was protecting him from harm.

All of this was his fault. All the things I hadn’t let myself think came crashing to the surface. Ruby. My mother. The cards. The Rift.

I surged, Dorian’s grip fighting to pull me down, but I wormed my wrist away. “If Evermore is truly yours,” I called out, voice cracking. “If you are itsrightful regent,why did you have to steal and manipulate to take it?”

A hush circled the room as Dante’s head snapped in my direction. “I didn’t steal Evermore. I didn’tstealanything. You did, Arabella Davenant. Remember?”

“Sitdown,”Dorian pleaded, his grip on my wrist more urgent. “Arabella, don’t do this. You are bleeding again.” His voice broke like he was tired of watching me fall apart all week.

“You manipulated me.” My voice trembled, but I forced the words out. “You manipulated everyone.” Blood soaked my sleeve. I staggered, the world yawning sideways. “Take your throne, take Evermore if that’s what you want, but let the rest of us go. Just—let us go.”

He let out a cold, quiet chuckle. “You know we can’t do that.”

Behind me, two Daemon guards seized my arms, yanking me upward. They pulled me toward the center aisle, inches from Dante, black spots swarming my vision. He motioned for me to come closer and I felt the force of hands against my back.

Dante descended, his silver eyes dragging over me, slowlyuntil his face was inches from mine. I could smell the hazy scent of Elsewhere that clung to his skin, smoke and cinnamon. “Now,” he smirked. “Kneel.”

I stared up at him, my knees locked. I’d felt him in every shadow. Trusted the Thread over myself. This was the cost. “No.”

His eyes flicked over my face, impassive. “Kneel before me, or?—”

“What?” I snarled. “It’ll bruise your ego? You’ve got the Lumen to heal that.”

Dante flashed a cold smile. He turned, already bored, and raised a hand. “Remove her.”

Arms wrenched me backward and I winced, my stitches straining. I felt the heat of blood pool below my ribs again, leeching through my uniform shirt. Dante paused then, surveying.

Dorian shouldered forward. “Let her go.” The room snapped tight, a hush sweeping through the pews. Verrine barked at him to sit down.

Dante paused, his head turning slowly. “Careful, Dorian. I never liked you.”

Verrine’s face was more neutral than it should have been. Godwin withered. Dante looked at Dorian not like a rival, like something to bedealtwith.

“She needs medical attention.Rest.She’s been wounded!” Dorian shouted again, all exasperation. “She willdiebefore she makes it to the Rift!”

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