Page 18 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Serenna’s throat closed around Fenn’s name as Ayla crossed to his cell, stolen light revolving around her hand.

Fenn shoved to his feet and backed away. He managed one step before Taryn tightened her grip on his gem.

His legs locked, wings snapping shut, their talons clenching hard enough to shake.

“This is a gift, brother.” Taryn’s voice softened as if for him alone. “In time, you’ll see.”

Fenn bared his fangs as the talents tore from their orbit and hurled toward him in a storm of light. They struck his chest and shattered, brilliance sinking through scorched leather.

Serenna knew there’d be no pain with power given, yet being turned to an arch elf wasn’t what Fenn would’ve chosen.

But choice was the first thing Ayla had taken.

Serenna still hadn’t cried for the children Ayla had weaponized her lightning against, their bodies left blackened in the arena sand. Their screams still rang in her skull, sealed where grief couldn’t yet reach.

But for Fenn, tears blurred her sight as she watched him transform.

His fangs retracted first, vanishing completely. His claws followed, folding back into fingers. Limbs shortened, inches lost like ground surrendered. He staggered, a sound tearing from his throat as the fire in his eyes flickered once, then froze to glacial blue.

He stood panting, wings trembling, fury carved into every line. When he lifted his head, he looked past Ayla. Past Taryn.

Straight to Serenna.

Her chest seized.

The braids she’d once helped weave lost their darkness strand by strand, night bleeding into a gilded lie. The storm-dark glow of his skin paled, erasing the wraith body he’d always worn with pride.

The face staring back at her belonged to an elf she’d never met.

But Fenn was still there, trapped behind different eyes. In the way he held himself motionless, every instinct leashed because she would pay for any mistake. In the way his wing claws twitched toward her, straining across the corridor.

“I’m sorry,” Serenna whispered.

The words fell between them, small and useless.

Taryn’s attention slid to Serenna. “And what do we do with her?”

Ayla scoffed. “We don’t waste power on a half-breed.”

The word struck the oldest bruise, the one that never healed. As if Ayla hadn’t been born with human blood herself, no matter how fiercely she denied it. As if that tainted blood hadn’t made her useful to the king in ways no pure-blood could be.

Heat climbed Serenna’s throat, bitter as lingering smoke.

She spoke before caution caught up.

“Is that why the king chose you?” Her voice held steady as she straightened on her knees, the burn across her chest pulling viciously with the movement. “Because you can carry his spawn while a pure-blood can’t?”

Ayla’s hand flew to her middle.

Then jerked away, too late.

For one instant, her nostrils flared, the mask slipping. Fury split the court-bred polish before she sealed herself again and crossed the distance to Serenna in three clipped strides.

Ayla’s backhand cracked across Serenna’s face, snapping her head sideways.

Pain burst through her cheek. Her teeth cut into her lip, and copper flooded her mouth as she swayed on her knees, held upright by spite.

Serenna laughed then, breathless and half-mad, blood trickling down her chin. Ayla had given her all the confirmation she needed.