Chapter Thirty-Five · No Witnesses

Syveris was already there, head bowed, waiting in the Lapis Chamber.

King Eryndar took his seat and motioned to the guards.

“Seal the doors. No one enters.”

The chamber fell still. Even breath carried.

The King tapped a hand against the armrest.

“Chancellor. Sit.”

Syveris did not move.

Eryndar watched him for a long moment.

“Speak.”

Syveris lifted his head. For the first time, the deference in his eyes was gone.

“Do you know why I’m here? I doubt Your Majesty will want to hear it.”

“Hmm?” The King frowned.

Syveris let out a soft laugh.

“All these years… you’ve never called me anything else.”

Eryndar leaned forward.

“What are you saying? Didn’t you request this audience to report on the traitor?”

Syveris flicked his sleeve. Violet light flashed.

The bolts slammed into place.

Silence dropped, heavy.

“That’s true,” Syveris said.

“But I think… it has been a long time since we spoke as brothers.”

Eryndar leaned forward, one elbow braced on his knee, studying him.

“Very well.”

Syveris clasped his hands behind his back and began to circle the Lapis Chamber, unhurried.

“Magnificent place.”

A glance at the vaulted ceiling.

“You’ve lived here a long time.”

He stopped. Met the King’s gaze.

“Wearing the crown every day… watching them kneel.”

A beat.

“And me…”

A quiet laugh. Barely there.

“All it ever took… was one look from Father.”

Eryndar’s hand tightened.

“Syveris—”

“I thought…

If I did better. Just a little. One more time.”

He exhaled. Shook his head.

“Never enough for him.”

Silence pressed down between them.

“Why bring him up now?” Eryndar’s voice lowered. “He’s dead.”

Syveris turned sharply.

“He never looked at me like a son.”

His gaze snapped to Eryndar.

“But you—”

Eryndar rose, one hand braced on the armrest.

“No, he didn’t.

But you chose to make that wound yours.”

Syveris did not answer.

His fingers brushed the dark lapis set into the walls, tracing the cold seams between the stones.

“You never had to ask why you were chosen,” he said. “I always had to ask why I was not.”

Eryndar did not move.

“And?”

Syveris’s gaze hardened.

“He didn’t choose.”

A breath.

“He let sentiment decide.”

“Father built this kingdom by teaching every clan what fear meant,” Syveris said. “Then he handed it to the son who still wanted to be loved.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

“His mistake was pretending a throne won by cruelty could be kept by mercy.”

Eryndar’s jaw set.

So that was it. Syveris had taken an old wound and dressed it as judgment.

Syveris reached into his coat and drew out a small portrait.

Aethrador.

He blew.

Flame caught.

It climbed slowly, devouring the painted face.

Eryndar didn’t move.

He watched the flames take the portrait.

“Careful, Syveris. Some things burn longer than paper.”

Syveris didn’t look at the King.

He went on.

“I thought the problem was me.”

He exhaled.

“Turns out…”

The fire guttered out in his hand.

“He never saw me.”

Heavy. Unmoving.

“I had to live my whole life with it.”

Eryndar stepped away from his chair and moved toward Syveris, unhurried.

Syveris let out a quiet scoff.

“How naive.”

Syveris’s gaze lingered on the blackened scrap in his hand.

Then he closed his fingers around it.

It crumbled to ash.

Eryndar looked at Syveris.

No sound came.

Something in his chest gave, just slightly.

For the first time, it wasn’t a King looking at his Chancellor.

It was a brother looking at his brother.

He understood. Almost all of it.

But there was nothing he could change.

The Lapis Chamber fell into a suffocating silence.

Suddenly, Syveris turned the ring on his left middle finger.

“The princess…” he said, his gaze sliding to the King in quiet provocation.

“She should have been powerful from birth.”

A beat. The air trembled.

“If not for me.”

Eryndar’s expression changed at once.

Whatever sympathy remained was gone.

“What did you just say?”

A thin arc of lightning flickered at his fingertips. The air strained under the pressure.

He seized Syveris by the collar.

“What did you do to my daughter?”

Syveris didn’t flinch. He only looked at him.

“You think it was misfortune?

Some random curse?”

He tilted his head.

“It wasn’t.”

Violet light thickened around him.

“I was there.”

A breath.

“From the very beginning.”

Eryndar lashed out. Lightning struck the wall with a crack. The scent of burning filled the chamber.

His control slipped.

“You bastard.” His voice shook.

Syveris shoved him back.

“The ones you think are loyal…”

A faint smile.

“They may not be.”

Eryndar steadied himself.

Pieces fell into place.

What he had thought was an accident.

Lyra’s sealing.

It had been planned.

To crush the rightful heir before she could rise.

His brother.

Unforgivable.

His fists tightened. Storms began to coil around his hands.

His breath came sharper now.

Syveris curled his lip.

“Cavren… I gave the order.”

Wind spiraled at Eryndar’s feet.

It surged, no longer steady.

The pressure in the chamber spiked.

Eryndar raised both hands. The storms gathered from the air itself.

“The traitor…” His teeth clenched.

“is you.”

The fury crested.

Syveris stilled. He looked him in the eye.

“And the Queen…”

A faint smile.

The chamber erupted.

A bolt of white lightning tore through the air, driving straight for Syveris.

He flicked his hand. Wind bent the strike aside.

Darkness surged, swallowing the light.

The impact rang out like metal crushed inside a storm.

Eryndar swept his arms in wide arcs, drawing the air into twin storms.

But the chamber had been sealed from the start.

No fresh wind could reach him.

His magic could not fully form.

Syveris turned.

Two streams of dark wind surged toward Eryndar.

They struck.

Eryndar staggered.

Syveris stepped into the opening.

No hesitation.

He closed the distance until he stood directly before the King.

Syveris watched the fury take him.

A dark blue glow sank into his palm, coiling inward until it became a dense, hollow sphere.

“You never had to understand what it means to be cast aside.”

His voice was low.

“I lived with it.”

Then his hand touched Eryndar’s chest.

The dark blue glow vanished into him.

A soundless impact passed through the King’s body.

Something broke inside.

Bone. Flesh.

Eryndar froze.

Too late.

Everything stopped.

The chamber fell silent.

He looked at Syveris, as if to speak.

Then his body gave.

He collapsed.

The storm around him died with him.

Syveris turned away.

He did not let himself look for long.

His hand lowered slowly.

His chest tightened. He forced it down.

A moment passed.

Footsteps gathered outside the door.

“Your Majesty?”

A knock.

Syveris drew a breath, steadying himself, then stepped out.

“His Majesty is not to be disturbed.”

The guards bowed and withdrew.

He closed the doors of the Lapis Chamber behind him.

Darkness seemed to settle over the palace.

There was no moon that night.

The stars had dimmed.

In the Turquias Chamber, the Queen waited.

Something was wrong.

A storm of broken sound pressed against her thoughts.

Her heart tightened.

No reason.

“Obewich. We’re going to the King.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She threw the doors open.

Spears crossed in front of her.

Obewich flinched, stepping forward to shield her.

The guards—unfamiliar.

They were not the ones the King had posted.

The Queen frowned.

“Move. I have urgent business.”

The captain stepped forward.

“By order of the Chancellor, no one leaves this wing.”

“What?”

She went still.

A tremor ran through her.