Chapter 29 · The Crown's Final Command

"Don't touch him!" I slammed my palm into Rafe's chest before he could reach Marek.

The throne room jolted beneath our boots.

Not an attack. The blackstone crown hanging over the judgment dais was grinding its metal teeth against the air. Every soldier in the fortress turned their weapons toward us.

Rafe caught my wrist. His fingers burned against my pulse.

"Helen. Get behind me."

"That crown owns your army. It doesn't own me."

"It will in three breaths."

Across the cracked floor, Marek laughed through blood-streaked teeth. His shirt hung open, exposing the red seal carved over his heart.

Beneath it, something dark pulsed against his ribs.

Blackstone.

A core.

And the crown was feeding it.

"You finally see it," Marek said. "The throne never needed my loyalty. It only needed my body."

A soldier behind me raised his spear.

Rafe twisted, shoved me down, and caught the spearhead on his forearm. Metal tore through his sleeve.

He didn't even grunt.

"Rafe!"

"Stay down."

"I'm not hiding while the throne turns you into its knife."

"You're not listening." His jaw locked as another soldier advanced. "Every order I give them passes through the crown first.