“Step away from it, or the King dies.”
The cold edge of steel pressed so hard against Cassian’s throat that a thin line of red rose beneath the blade. Behind him, stepping fully out of the shadows, was Commander Drake. The commander's eyes gleamed with a quiet, ugly satisfaction beneath the iron rim of his High Council helmet.
"Hands where I can see them, girl," Drake barked, his voice rattling off the stone walls of the hidden vault. "One move toward that silver chest, and I carve his throat open right here."
My breath hitched in my chest, every muscle in my body freezing in place. The open chest sat on the obsidian altar only inches from my hands, humming with the faint magic my parents had died to lock away. But my gaze couldn't leave the dark crimson drop tracing down Cassian’s neck
