Chapter 4

The throne room did not look like the one I grew up in.

It did not look like the place where my father once lifted me onto his knee to show me maps. It did not look like the hall where I learned protocol or where the council lectured me on decorum for breathing too loudly. It did not look like the sanctuary of our ancestors.

It looked like the inside of a nightmare someone had decorated with a generous budget and absolutely no supervision.

The walls, once lined with ancient banners and polished shields, now pulsed with burning sigils. They crawled across the stone like veins of molten gold and black smoke, and not in an aesthetically pleasing way. Candles lined the pillars, but their flames bled red wax that dripped in slow trails to the floor. The scent was thick and metallic, clinging uncomfortably to the back of my throat.

Somewhere beyond the throne, something snarled.

The sound ripped through the chamber like claws tearing fabric. The air trembled. The hair at the back of my neck stood straight up.

The guards dragged me forward in heavy chains. Iron shackles scraped the stone behind me. Each step sent sharp pain through my wrists and ankles. Nobles lined the sides of the hall, clutching at their collars, their pearls, their sleeves. They refused to look at me as if eye contact might summon a demon. Judging by the décor, they might not have been wrong.

A few looked up only long enough to glance from me to the sigils and immediately decide that life was too short for whatever this was.

Whatever ritual Lysandra had planned, even they feared it.

The air hummed with magic. Violent magic. Forbidden magic. The kind whispered about in childhood stories, the kind that made adults pale and say things like, “Do not go near the cursed woods,” which of course made children immediately go near the cursed woods.

I stumbled when the chains pulled too tight, hitting my knees hard enough to echo through the hall.

“Get up,” a guard growled, jerking the chain. My shoulder nearly separated itself from my body.

I forced myself upright.

My eyes locked on the throne.

My father sat upon it.

He looked worse than he had the night before. His skin had taken on a sickly gray cast. His eyes were rimmed with red, glazed and hollow. His hands trembled where they rested on the carved armrests. The sight of him carved straight through me.

“Father,” I whispered.

He did not react.

Another sound cracked through the hall. A roar of magic so sharp I flinched.

I turned.

Behind the throne, the air itself was tearing open.

A swirling rift split the space, a violent spiral of black and blue light clawing at the edges of reality. The portal writhed like a living beast. Wind whipped outward in furious bursts, scattering scrolls and sending nobles’ carefully styled hair into absolute chaos.

The floor beneath it had cracked, spiderwebbed with glowing lines that sizzled with unstable energy.

I stepped back on instinct.

The guards shoved me forward.

“What is that?” I demanded. “What are you doing? What is this?”

No one even pretended they might answer.

A mage stepped out from the shadows, robed in midnight colors. His hands were covered in intricate tattoos that glowed faintly with every movement. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, which was deeply comforting. Nothing reassures a person like their fate being determined by someone who looks like they have not slept since the last eclipse.

“You stand before a passage between realms,” he intoned. “A doorway to a world devoid of power. Devoid of allies. Devoid of return.”

My stomach twisted so hard I nearly folded in half. “No,” I whispered. “No, you cannot.”

He blinked at me like I had suggested something inconvenient, such as rescheduling my execution.

“You are to be exiled beyond the reach of magic. Beyond the reach of this kingdom. Beyond the reach of all who might protect or follow you.”

“No return?” I gasped. “No way back? No path home?”

“You will walk among mortals,” he said. “You will forget this life. This place. This realm.”

Forget.

The word hit harder than any chain.

I turned back to my father.

“Father,” I cried. “Please. Stop this. Please stop this madness.”

For the first time since the trial, his gaze shifted.

Barely. Trembling. Fragile.

But he looked at me.

Tears built in my throat. “Please,” I whispered. “Fight it. I know you are still in there.”

A flicker of recognition tightened his jaw.

His fingers clawed weakly at the armrests.

His lips parted.

“Ave…” he rasped.

My heart lurched. “Yes. Yes, Father, please. Please speak. Please tell them the truth.”

But Lysandra stood behind him like a shadow made of venom. Her nails dug deep into his wrist. Irritation curled her lip.

She bent down, whispering into his ear.

The change in him was immediate.

The flicker vanished. His gaze glazed over. His expression hardened into a mask. The enchantment slammed down on him like a stone wall.

“No,” I whispered. “No, please do not let her do this to you.”

Lysandra held my gaze and smiled like she was hosting a tea party.

A councilor stepped forward with a scroll. The banishment decree. The paper trembled as he held it out.

My father’s hand shook violently as he lifted the quill. A drop of ink splattered onto the parchment.

“Do not sign that,” I begged. “Please. I am your daughter. You know me. You know I am innocent. Please, Father.”

His eyes flickered.

A crack.

Lysandra’s nails dug in deeper.

He flinched.

And his signature dragged across the page.

The sound of quill on parchment echoed like a death toll.

“No,” I screamed. “Father, please, please wake up!”

The portal roared louder, swirling with furious light. Wind tore fabric from the walls. Sparks exploded across the chamber. Nobles screamed and ducked like startled pigeons.

The mage raised his hands.

“It is time,” he announced. “Her exile begins.”

“I am innocent!” I screamed. “This is wrong. You know this is wrong!”

My knees buckled. I collapsed, palms scraping against stone.

The guards hauled me upright with all the gentleness of hauling a sack of potatoes.

“Let me go!” I thrashed. “I will not be cast away like this. I will not go quietly.”

A lie. I was absolutely going to scream the entire way.

The portal howled.

Wind slammed into me so hard I lost my breath. My chains rattled violently. My hair whipped around my face, probably creating a look Seraphine would call unflattering.

“Father!” I sobbed. “Please, look at me. Please do not let them take me.”

He did not move.

But then…

A whisper.

Barely more than a breath.

Forgive me.

My heart fractured.

“Father?” I whispered. “Father, did you say that?”

His gaze flickered. A final spark. One faint trace of the man he used to be.

The man who taught me swordplay.

The man who tucked me in at night.

The man who told me I was destined for greatness.

Then the shroud swallowed him again.

The guards lifted me off the ground.

The portal’s light seared my vision.

“No,” I sobbed. “Please. Father. Please save me. Please wake up.”

The mage spoke the final command.

“Cast her into the mortal realm.”

The wind exploded.

The portal grabbed me.

The throne room vanished in searing light.

My father’s silhouette blurred.

Lysandra’s smile gleamed like polished poison.

Seraphine lingered behind her, eyes bright with triumph.

And the last thing I heard before the world ripped apart was my father’s broken whisper.

Forgive me.

Then the light swallowed me whole.