I laughed, both an insult to Trevyr and a compliment to Theron. “Well, I can see how that could be payment enough.”

I leaned into his side, pressing a kiss to his neck, and the soldiers near us erupted in laughter. Trevyr’s face flooded crimson as he glanced around the assemblage.

“You say you are not a whore, yet your jewelry says differently,” Trevyr spat.

My voice hardened. “This tiara is my birthright.”

He scoffed, venom in his eyes. “Oh, I’ve heard the rumors of your little Sálfar tricks. But I don’t believe it. No one has seen a Sálfar in decades. If you have that kind of power, why would you use poison on Rhazien?”

Anger coursed through my veins, consuming me at the mention of Rhazien. The surrounding air crackled with static and the sandy ground began to writhe and twist as if alive as I tapped my power. The particles of sand twirled and swiveled in time with the undulation of my magic, swaying and shifting erratically beneath our feet. Soldiers shouted as I lifted my hand, causing the sands around us to rise and form into writhing serpents. The Vennorins claimed the viper as theirs, but I’d show them who had fangs.

“My name is Kaella Helekian,” I growled and Theron shot me a startled look. Had I never told him my surname? I made one of the sand vipers snap at Trevyr, causing him to stumble backward. “Do you doubt that I’m a Sálfar now?”

Chapter 8

Theron

Iwatchedthesandat our feet hiss and shift, coiling into vipers, their sinuous forms rising and looming over Trevyr and Tykas. The searing desert air was thick with tension, the very grains of sand crackling with magic. My gaze locked onto Trevyr, whose shock was mirrored in the eyes of every soldier that surrounded us.

Helekian.My thoughts raced as the world spun around me. Kael was a Helekian. Understanding flared within me as if Ydonja’s stars themselves had whispered the truth. The tales of Tiordan Carxidor’s cunning, his betrayal of Eiran Daelor, and the fall of the once-mighty Sálfar were the songs of my childhood. My ancestors had claimed the throne, leaving the Helekians in the dust of history.

But Kael was here, a living testament to the forgotten bloodline. She was royalty... Her magic flowed through the sand like the lifeblood of the desert itself. I looked back, my eyes meeting Zerek’s, shock coating his features. Every soldier gazed upon Kael as if they beheld a legend given form.

“Enough,” Trevyr’s voice sliced through the still air like a knife. “You may have these desert rats enthralled with your parlor tricks, but I am not so easily fooled.”

A snarl ripped through me. “You called for this parlay, Trevyr,” his name twisted in my mouth. “I thought you wanted to discuss handing over my men, not insult my queen.”

Trevyr’s lip curled in a sneer that could rival a viper’s. “Queen? Empress Nyana sent me to crush this pitiful slave revolt and reclaim Adraedor.”

I waved a hand towards the city walls, my soldiers lining the battlements, their armor shining in the desert sun like beacons. “Does it look like I need help handling Adraedor?”

Tykas laughed, the sound resonating through the air like a thunderclap. He was a large man, taller and wider than any elf I’d met before and his laugh matched him. Trevyr’s glare could have melted earthborn iron. “Shut up, you lumbering oaf.”

But Tykas wasn’t cowed. He met my eyes, an unspoken understanding passing between us. Kael’s fingers intertwined with mine, squeezing them in support.

My focus drew back to Trevyr as he spoke. “We’re here to discuss the terms of your surrender. Theodas has ordered you to stand down and relinquish Adraedor to my control. You will—“

My expression hardened as I cut him off. “There will be no surrender.”

“You’ve made a grave mistake, Theron,” Trevyr said, his tone dripping with arrogance, the metallic gleam of his false eye unnerving.

I squeezed Kael’s hand. “We’ll see.”

Trevyr’s calculating gaze swept over me, and the gathered soldiers that had edged closer, a predator assessing its prey. His words cut through the hot air. “We should discuss this inside the tent.”

“Why?” My voice rang out defiantly, a challenge. “I have no secrets from my men.” I met the eyes of the surrounding soldiers, my tone unwavering as I claimed them once more. We’d battled side by side for decades, and I was banking on the fact that they’d prefer me over the snake in front of me.

“Empress Nyana has commanded that I—“ Trevyr began, only to be cut off by my raised hand.

“I do not recognize my mother as Empress,” I said, my voice hard as steel. “Nyana and Theodas, your snake of a brother, killed Varzorn and stole the throne.”

Mutterings of anger rippled through the crowd, a chorus of discontent echoing my words. I could see the realization dawning on Trevyr’s face that the men held no love for him. “That’s rich after you killed Rhazien.”

Kael narrowed her eyes. “Theron didn’t kill the Beast. I did.”

“Before Varzorn left for Athain, he reinstated me as Lord Marshal of the Niothe and Warden of the West,” I declared, turning to look over the gathered army. “You said I made a mistake before and you were right. I should have never listened to Varzorn and left my men to come to the desert. For that—for leaving them in Theodas’ incompetent hands—I will never forgive myself.”

Trevyr scoffed as a murmur ran through the encampment. “Theodas made more progress in Eomith than you ever did.”