Chapter 32 · The Throne Knows

The cup hit the floor.

Amy's blood splashed across white marble. It spread in thin red lines, following the carved grooves she hadn't noticed before—patterns that stretched from the dais all the way to where she stood, breathing hard, her wrist still bleeding.

Eli stared at the broken cup. Then at her.

"You—" His voice cracked. "You ruined it."

"Good." Amy pressed her hand to the cut. It wasn't deep, but it wouldn't stop. The blood kept coming, hot and slick, dripping between her fingers. "Whatever the hell that was, you're not finishing it."

Karl was behind her. She felt him there, close enough that his breath brushed her neck. He wasn't saying anything. That scared her more than Eli's face.

"You don't understand." Eli's crown mark pulsed, brighter now, angry. "The rite doesn't stop because you broke a cup. It's already begun."

The throne flared.

Not light. Not heat. Something older. The air bent around it, and the carved patterns on the floor lit up all at once—white-gold lines racing toward the dais, pulling Amy's spilled blood with them.

"No." Karl's hand closed on her shoulder. "Amy, move—"

She tried. Her legs wouldn't answer.

The blood reached the throne.