Chapter 31 · Don't Bleed for Me

Karl's wrists are burning.

The chains aren't silver—they don't need to be. They're old. Older than the family crest hanging behind Eli's chair. Older than the blood rite Eli's about to twist into something it was never meant to do. The metal's soaked in centuries of oaths and deaths and power transfers, and right now it's wrapped tight enough that Karl can feel his pulse hammering against it.

He's kneeling. The throne room's packed—council members in the gallery, cameras aimed at the platform, Eli standing three feet away with a glass cup in one hand and a blade in the other. The kind of blade you use when you want the cut to look ceremonial.

Eli's smiling.

"This won't take long," Eli says. He's talking to the cameras, not Karl. "The rite of succession requires the prior heir's consent. Blood given freely. My brother understands that."

Karl doesn't move. His jaw's locked. He can taste copper already, like his body knows what's coming.

Eli steps closer. The blade catches the light. "You walked away from this once, Caleb. You don't get to walk away twice."

The gallery's silent. Karl can feel their eyes. Some of them remember him.