Chapter 22 · The Execution Blade

"You remember this, don't you?"

Gareth's voice cut across the ice before Valen saw the blade. Then the torchlight caught it—scorched steel, angled edge, the same weapon that had burned the mark off his skin ten years ago.

Valen's arm throbbed. Phantom heat crawling up to his shoulder.

"You were what, sixteen?" Gareth stopped three paces inside the blood circle, flipping the sword like it was nothing. "Seventeen? Hard to tell with all the screaming."

Valen's hands were empty. He'd left his weapon outside the ring when the judges called him forward. Stupid. But he hadn't expected the coup lord's son to walk into a royal trial holding an execution blade like a trophy.

"Gareth." The chief judge's voice cracked. "This is not—"

"I invoked the law." Gareth didn't even look at him. "We both bled into the crystal. That makes this legal. You want to overrule your own ceremony?"

The judge's mouth worked. Nothing came out.

"Valen." Eliza's voice, low and tight behind him. She'd tried to follow him into the circle, but Kael had caught her arm. Smart. The wards would burn anyone who crossed uninvited. "Don't do this."

He didn't answer. Couldn't.