Page 9 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Drowning suspended.

Only when Saundyl sagged did Lykor release him.

He collapsed at Lykor’s boots, sputtering water, every breath scraping wet.

Vesryn stood unmoved, shadows still binding the soldiers left kneeling. He knew whose brother lay choking on the deck. Knew exactly what mercy would cost.

But Vesryn’s expression had gone to stone.

The surviving crew didn’t fight. The remains of those who’d tried lay strewn across the planks at Vesryn’s feet.

Lykor crouched, hooked his talons beneath Saundyl’s breastplate, and wrenched him upright once more.

“One chance,” he snapped. “Use it.”

Saundyl’s mouth parted.

Hesitation flickered.

Lykor extended his free hand.

A lash of force seized a soldier and dragged her across the deck into his grip. She screamed before his fingers closed. Lykor drove his will beneath her ribs and latched onto her Well.

Magic ruptured, bright and pulsing.

Essence tore free in a blinding spiral, talents scattering in starlit globes. She flailed, fingers lengthening into claws, skin bruising dark with indigo as crimson burned through the brown of her eyes.

When Lykor released her, she crumpled to the deck as a wraith, her stolen abilities drifting above.

The talents stayed there.

Waiting.

Whispering.

This was the line. Power severed and passed through another hand could be borne without poisoning the Well. Power ripped loose and bound in the same act became an endless hunger.

That path wore the face of the king—silver eyes spinning with madness, ambition vast enough to make every Well an offering.

The talents still begged to be claimed, to sharpen the violence already crouched in Lykor’s blood. Even with Jassyn’s life hanging somewhere beyond reach, he refused to shape himself in Galaeryn’s image.

Because Jassyn—stars scorch him—had looked at the worst in Lykor and still believed there was something worth hauling back from the dark.

So Lykor left the stolen talents spinning, untouched.

Across the deck, Vesryn’s eyes met his. Cold. Hollowed down to the same need.

Answers first.

Lykor turned back to Saundyl, still clutched in his grip.

Saundyl stared at the wraith collapsed on the deck, then at the talents orbiting above her, then back to Lykor.

Lykor tilted his head. “You’re not scared enough.”

Saundyl went still, water dripping from his jaw to the planks.

“I remember your sister begging for your life the last time we met,” Lykor said. “Said you had a family.”