Castian pulled out a dagger from his boot and began to sharpen it with a flint from his back pocket.
I wasn’t wrong, Chrystal mused. He avoids looking at me.
For a long moment, Castian said nothing.
Then, with a slow, measured tone, punctuated by the sharp ring of his blade on the whetting stone, he spoke quietly.
“The Shadow Council has ruled from the dark for centuries,” he murmured.
“They decide who rises and who falls. They control the throne, the bloodlines, the alliances. They keep their hands clean, but their power is absolute.”
Chrystal swallowed hard, her lips parting slightly as her breath quickened.
Castian’s gaze darkened. “Your father is one of them,” he growled.
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
My father? Part of a secret cabal of manipulators and murderers?
