As the overlord of Fourth Hall, she knew the rules better than anyone. She would sooner die than allow Jared to claim her body against her will. Enaricus’ charge was nothing but mud flung to darken her name.
Behind her, the Celestial Guards tightened their formation. Armor clinked. Knuckles whitened around spear shafts, all silent vows to shield their mistress or fall in the attempt.
Isabel stepped up beside them, rage flickering in her gaze. Had she possessed the strength, she would have cut Enaricus down where he stood.
Enaricus motioned lazily over one shoulder. At once, his disciples surged forward, fists flexing, mouths curling into predatory grins, eager for sanctioned violence.
“Today, I will lead my men into the Celestial King Palace. We shall see whether you have turned that sacred hall into your private estate,” he declared, threat carved into every note of his voice.
“Insolence!” Onneas’ retort boomed, reverberating down the carved colonnade and leaving ears ringing.
“The palace is not a market stall you may wander through at whim,” she said, tone steel-hard. “Without the King’s command, no one crosses its threshold. Secrets and treasures lie within, secrets far safer without your greedy hands.”
“The King is at level nine.” Enaricus sneered. “That means I give the orders here.”
He strode forward. His followers poured after him like a breaking wave, aimed straight at Onneas’ slender line of defense.
Swords rasped free. Onneas and her guards formed a living wall, faces set, wills unshakable, each stance proclaiming that passage would be bought only with their corpses.
“Enaricus, you force entry into the palace—do you intend to rebel?” Onneas asked, voice low, eyes cold enough to freeze blood. She knew one trespass could unravel every law that held their world together.
Enaricus’ face twitched before he composed himself. “Rebellion? I am safeguarding the law. You commandeered the guards and barred me from inspection. Who can say what treachery breeds behind those doors?”
The excuse fell flat even to his own ears.
Tension stretched to a breathless snap, then a shadow loomed across the courtyard.
It swelled, resolved, and two figures descended through the sunlight, Prince Percival Wulverton, robes billowing like storm clouds, and the grand elder, Esorin, silver hair whipping in the wind.
Their combined aura pressed upon the assembly, an invisible weight that bent knees and stilled tongues. Hearts hammered as every soul present understood, judgment had arrived. A soft, almost mocking chuckle drifted across the marble courtyard.
Percival stepped out of the violet dusk with the swagger of a raiding falcon. The crooked curve of his lips carried open delight, as though the whole confrontation had unfolded precisely according to the script he kept hidden behind his eyes.
Onneas found no humor there.
“People of the Malevolent Path Hall, what business could you possibly have in the Celestial King’s Palace?” Her voice rang like tempered steel, colder than the mountain air that rustled the palace banners.
Color drained from her cheeks, yet her gaze never wavered. The Malevolent Path Hall had never crossed paths with the Celestial Palace, no feuds, no alliances, nothing but wary distance.
Then understanding slashed through her thoughts. She pivoted toward Enaricus. Suspicion gathered between her brows like storm clouds.
“Enaricus!” A single name cracked across the stones. “You invited them, didn’t you? You stand here hand-in-hand with the Malevolent Path Hall. Do you feel no dread of the penalty that awaits a traitor?”
Enaricus froze. They had agreed, he would slip inside the palace first, unlock its inner defenses, and only then would Percival and Esorin appear. The plan lay half-built, and exposure now would crush him beneath its rubble.
