Page 92 of The Blood Rites

The Overseers float around in eerie silence, their featureless faces somehow more attentive than usual, like they’re cataloguing our emotional decline so that they can weaponise it in future trials.

The Airborn are here—Alaris and Fen, both haunted by the absence of the third. The Waterborn pair sit with Callen, speaking only to each other, their eyes never straying from their bowls.

Marissa sits stiffly at my side, hands in her lap, staring at her food like it might poison her.

Kael is not at our table. He sits across the hall with Nyxen and Vaelis, perched on the edge of his seat, watching. He’s not eating. He’s not even pretending. His focus is fixed on Atheron and Rask, who sit a few tables over, speaking in low voices that occasionally break into laughter.

Something ugly hangs in the air between them.

Alaris keeps glancing around the room. Marissa's hands shake so badly she can barely hold her fork. Even the Overseers seem restless.

I try to eat, but it’s like chewing rocks. Every few seconds I look up to see Kael’s eyes on Atheron, then, unexpectedly, on me. When I lock eyes with him, it’s like the room is tilting. My throat constricts and I look away fast.

I sense the break before it happens. The way Kael’s shoulders rise. The twitch of his lips.

A moment later he’s up, striding across the hall.

A collective hush falls over the room.

Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.

Everyone knows exactly where he's going.

Kael steps in front of Atheron and Rask. His fingers flex at his sides, slow and dangerous. “You think this is funny?” he asks, voice flat but biting.

Atheron leans back with casual confidence. “I think many things are funny, Prince. Care to specify?”

Kael ignores him, turning his attention to Rask. “You killed Sorin. You probably killed your own man too. And don’t for a second think I forgot what you did before the trial. I will end you in the next. You’re fucking dead.”

Rask grins, all teeth and gums. “I’d like to see you try.”

“You will,” Kael says. “You’re the first on my list.”

Atheron snorts. "Threats bore me, Prince. I hope you'll be able to hunt down Rask here whilst protecting your little pet. Who knows what might happen to him while you're... distracted."

I freeze, heat rising up my spine. Atheron’s gaze flicks to me, then back to Kael, his mouth curling in satisfaction.

Kael’s facial expression doesn't change, but the shadows around him do.

The light overhead warps, as if it’s being sucked into a void. For a moment, Kael is nothing but shadows and teeth.

Rask stands, a head taller than Kael.

Kael moves first, placing a hand on the table, and every shadow in the room ripples outwards, writhing and deadly, converging on Atheron and Rask. The room darkens and the table itself trembles.

“Sit down,” Kael says to Rask.

The words are softly spoken, but something in them is absolute, like they came from someone else entirely.

Rask falters, then, as if compelled, drops into his seat.

Atheron remains standing, mask never slipping, but I see the agitation in his clenched fists.

“Impressive show,” he drawls. “But theatrics won’t save you when the time comes.”

Kael leans in, close enough that Atheron has the good sense to look away.

“Perhaps not,” he says. “But I’ll take you down with me, whatever the cost.”