Page 62 of The Reckoning of Starlight

“Your warriors have enough among them who can portal,” Vesryn said. “They’ll make it back to Asharyn safely if the raid turns.”

Reassurance, then. Useless.

Lykor’s shoulders twitched. “I wasn’t worried. They know what’s required. If they’re captured, they’ll die before they give the elves anything useful.” He didn’t wait for agreement. “Which wing first?”

Vesryn didn’t slow, attention fixed on the corridor ahead. “I’m sure there’s a feast we can interrupt. Your wraith should pull the capital’s attention away from the palace.”

“A lot of hopes.”

Vesryn cut him a sidelong glance. “We’re getting Jassyn back.”

“If he’s not already dead.”

The prince halted as his illumination drifted overhead, light throwing their shadows long against the corridor walls. “You don’t believe that. You wouldn’t be here if you did.”

Lykor locked his jaw until pain sparked in his temples. “Something happened to him.”

“He’s too valuable. They wouldn’t kill him.”

“There are fates worse than death.”

Vesryn ran a hand over the shaved side of his scalp, but he said nothing. He turned down the corridor and flicked his wrist toward the door at its end.

A pulse of force struck the stone. The door cracked open, grinding against the silence.

Two soldiers stood posted on the other side. Both jerked back, hands flying to hilts as Essence flared around their fists.

“Wait,” Vesryn snapped, throwing an arm out as Lykor ignited his power. “They’re likely coerced.”

Shadows raced from the prince’s fingers, winding around the soldiers in restraining coils. They halted in place, limbs bound, Essence still shimmering.

Lykor sneered as he stared down the immobilized guards. “Save the conscience for when this is over.”

“Some are forced to serve.”

“Saundyl wasn’t compelled when he handed Serenna over.”

Kal had been fool enough to try to stand between Lykor and killing. Vesryn didn’t get to inherit the dead male’s place.

Lykor shouldered by.

The prince didn’t block him.

Lykor slammed his claw into the first soldier’s chest and reached past flesh, past bone, into the bright root of his Well. His awareness closed around the magic. One strike, and he severed it.

The warrior didn’t scream. His stare remained fixed ahead, blank with obedience, as Lykor plundered his power.

Compelled, then. Vesryn had been right.

The prince’s shadows unraveled when the body collapsed, limbs twisting and darkening, remaking itself as wraith.

Lykor kept the stolen magic at a distance, leashed in his orbit. Still close enough to bind. Still close enough to be tempted to augment his power.

He’d been that creature before. Gorged. Mindless. Jassyn had hauled him back. But he wasn’t here now.

Vesryn’s mouth tightened. Yet when Lykor stepped aside, the prince drained the second soldier and cast the siphoned abilities into the ring of power circling them.

They climbed from the dungeons into the lower keep, then to the palace proper.