Page 152 of The Edge of Darkness

Ramil tried to speak again, but Fallon squeezed tighter.

Morah reached for the dagger at her chest, pulling it from its sheath slowly, letting her father hear the hiss of the blade as it came free. His eyes darted to the right, searching for what he knew he’d heard.

She twirled the weapon next to his face, allowing him to see it out of the corner of his eye as she said, “I swore to myself long ago that I would expose your corruptness to the world and see my brother avenged. I built an entire army underneath your nose and you never even saw it coming. Your greed was your downfall.” She paused the twirling. “And I am your death.”

Ramil mouthed his daughter’s name, begging, but his plea did nothing to sway her, and when Fallon released his hold, Morah sank the dagger into her father’s neck. She paused for only a moment before taking the blade’s hilt with both hands and ripping it through him with such force that his head came clean off. It tumbled into his lap, then rolled to the floor between her and her brother.

The entire room was frozen in shock.

When Morah straightened, she stared up at Fallon, whose face had gone solemn. He was breathing hard through his nose, his blind stare landing on where his father’s head had just been.

He reached his arm out to his side, and Morah tucked herself beneath it, wrapping her own arms around his waist and closing her eyes.

“It’s done,” she whispered.

Fallon brought his other hand up and placed it on her head, holding her to his chest and pressing a kiss to her hair. But he said nothing more.

Across the room, Killian was wide-eyed and kicking his legs against the wall as my shadowfire continued to pin him in place. “Murderers!” he cried out.

I smoothed the lapels of my jacket. “Oh, my apologies. We were supposed to vote on Ramil’s judgment, weren’t we?”

I spun on my heel and took a few casual steps around the former High Lord’s headless corpse, then raised my voice as I addressed the audience. “For the crimes committed against this court and his own . . . All those in favor of sentencing Ramil to death by . . .” I glanced down at his severed head. “Decapitation?”

The entire audience raised their hands.

“All those opposed?” I asked, just for good measure.

No one moved, except for Killian as he heaved flustered breaths.

I turned back to face the woodland lord and gestured toward Fallon. “There is a new High Lord of Benmoor now.”

At the edge of the altar, Vanir pounded a fist against his chest in recognition of Fallon’s new title. Laurent followed suit. Then I echoed the motion.

“Oh, and I suppose there is one more thing you should probably see,” I said to Killian. I then nodded at Maeson, who commanded the Alatyr one last time.

An image flickered to life—the view from the Alatyr around Ramil’s neck as he tried, and succeeded, to break into Killian’s vault to steal the talisman of Lyceius.

It was quite satisfying to watch Killian’s outraged expression fall into disbelief the moment he realized he had been betrayed on every possible front, especially by the one male he thought was his friend.

“That was Ramil’s point of view, by the way,” I reminded him.

His upper lip pulled back, and his fists balled at his sides as the image cut out.

No one needed to know that Ramil didn’t actually take the talisman. As far as Killian now knew, Ramil had taken it. And with him dead, the talisman seemed to be as good as lost, given that no one else knew that we had it.

“This justifies nothing!” Killian spat.

“Would you not agree that traitors should die for their transgressions? You should have nothing left to be angry over, unless there is some sort of agenda you two we’re working toward that involves the betrayal of your own kind.”

His eyes flared, but my shadowfire tightened around his body, cinching him higher up the wall, and denying him the opportunity to utter whatever demeaning statement he was about to conjure up. I allowed the flames to sear his skin, just enough to feel the burn—a burn so cold that it was deadlier than a touch of fire.

He groaned through clenched teeth and thrashed. The fae nearest to him slunk away, unsure of the situation and my power.

Realizing he couldn’t win against the restraints, Killian spat on the ground and sent a promising glare in my direction. He’d never been one to practice control over his emotions, and he wasn’t about to start now. Certainly not with me continuing to bait him like I was.

But I couldn’t help it. Something about exposing his corruption and watching his demise play out before me just as Ramil’s had, was enticing. And my power was relishing it.

“You will regret this,” he said, before shifting his glare to Auren. “Both of you.”