Tarek jerked awake, golden energy crackling along his skin.

  The amber ring on his right hand pulsed with urgent light, burning against his flesh with an intensity that bordered on pain. Eliza's message, channeled through the connection they shared—not mere words but raw emotion, fear and determination intertwined.

  *The Order has breached the boundary deliberately. They've brought something back.*

  He sat upright in the massive royal bed, the sheets falling away as amber light spilled from his skin, casting eerie shadows across the chamber walls. Outside, rain still lashed against the windows, but the storm had diminished since the previous night, as if exhausted by its own fury.

  "Eliza," he whispered, closing his eyes to focus on the fading impressions coming through their connection. Distance weakened the bond, but he could still sense her—her resolve, her apprehension, and beneath it all, a current of deep affection that mirrored his own.

  Without conscious thought, he poured his own feelings into the amber ring that held a fragment of his Bloodright. *Be careful. Come back to me.*

  A fleeting sensation of warmth told him the message had reached her, however faintly. Then the connection ebbed, leaving only the cool weight of the ring against his skin.

  Tarek slid from the bed, moving to the window. Dawn was still hours away, but sleep would not return. Not with this news. Not with Eliza placing herself in danger hundreds of miles from his protection.

  He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, trying to order his thoughts. House Solari had always been ambitious, their loyalty to the crown pragmatic rather than passionate. But to risk the boundary, to potentially unleash horrors from beyond—that went beyond ambition into madness.

  Or desperation.

  A soft knock at his chamber door broke his reverie.

  "Enter," he called, not turning from the window.

  Captain Frost's reflection appeared in the glass, the older man's weathered face grave in the dim light. "Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty. I saw the light beneath your door."

  Tarek turned, not bothering to mask the amber energy that continued to pulse beneath his skin in response to his agitation. "What troubles you at this hour, Captain?"

  Frost's gaze flickered briefly to the magical display before returning to Tarek's face. "The same thing that troubles you, I suspect. I received a coded message from Darian an hour ago. Lady Vantian plans to infiltrate House Solari tomorrow night."

  "I know." Tarek moved to a side table, pouring water from a silver pitcher. "She sent word through... other means."

  Understanding crossed Frost's features. He was among the few who knew of the magical connection Tarek had established with Eliza before her departure—a precaution that now seemed prescient rather than paranoid.

  "Then you know the situation is worse than we anticipated," Frost said. "The boundary weakens in multiple locations. The keystone's power diminishes by the day."

  "And the Order of Whispers has breached the boundary," Tarek added, a hard edge entering his voice. "Brought something back with them. Something that can control people."

  Frost's expression darkened. "The message I received mentioned nothing of this."

  "It wouldn't. Darian's report would have been written before Eliza's meeting with her contact." Tarek drank deeply, then set the cup down with deliberate care. "We need to move faster than planned, Captain. How quickly can you assemble a force?"

  "The palace guard stands ready—fifty men could march within the hour. Assembling a larger force from the city garrisons would take until midday." Frost hesitated. "But Your Majesty, a royal army marching south without official explanation would create... complications."

  "Political complications," Tarek clarified, his tone bitter. "The Great Houses would see it as overreach, especially if we're marching against one of their own."

  "Precisely. Without irrefutable evidence of Lord Solari's treason—"

  "People are dying, Frost." Amber light flared more intensely around Tarek's hands. "The boundary is failing. What more evidence do we need?"

  "Evidence that would convince Lord Pellinor and the Council of Nobles." Frost's tone remained steady despite the magical display. "Evidence that would prevent the other Great Houses from viewing this as a power grab by the crown."

  Tarek turned away, struggling to contain his frustration. The captain was right, of course. Six months on the throne had taught him the limits of royal authority—how easily the Great Houses could obstruct his will when united in opposition. Lord Pellinor, as Lord High Justiciar, could technically block any military action against a Great House without formal charges approved by the Council.

  And Pellinor had made no secret of his resentment toward Tarek's "unconventional" claim to the throne.

  "How long would it take us to reach Sunspire?" he asked finally.

  Frost blinked. "Us, Your Majesty?"

  "You, me, and a small company of your most trusted guards." Tarek turned back, his decision made. "We can travel faster than an army. Be in Sunspire within four days if we ride hard."

  "Leaving the capital without a king is—"

  "Leaving the kingdom without its boundary is worse." Tarek cut him off, moving to the cabinet where his informal attire was stored. "The Council can manage affairs of state for a few weeks. Lady Vantian may need immediate support that an army moving at march pace cannot provide."

  Frost fell silent, his internal struggle visible only in the subtle tightening of his jaw. His duty to protect the king warred with his loyalty to the crown's larger mission.

  "Twelve men," he said finally. "My most trusted. We travel light, along the old hunter's roads rather than the main highways. Less chance of being recognized or reported."

  Tarek nodded. "Make the arrangements. Quietly. We leave at first light."

  "And what reason shall I give the council for Your Majesty's absence?"

  "Tell them..." Tarek considered briefly. "Tell them I'm making a pilgrimage to the Western Keystone shrine to commune with the Bloodright. A spiritual retreat. Lord Chancellor Harrick can serve as royal proxy in my absence."

  "Harrick is ambitious," Frost warned.

  "Precisely why he'll accept without question. The taste of power will keep him occupied and compliant." Tarek's lips curved in a humorless smile. "Besides, he's too cautious to attempt any meaningful changes in a few weeks."

  As Frost turned to leave, Tarek added, "And Captain? Have Lord Commander Vaulen place extra guards on the Highcrest Keystone. Discreetly."

  "You think the capital might be targeted as well?"

  "I think we know too little about what we're facing." The memory of Eliza's fear, transmitted through their magical connection, lingered like a cold weight in his chest. "Better to err on the side of caution."

  After Frost departed to make the necessary arrangements, Tarek moved to the ornate chest at the foot of his royal bed. From it, he withdrew a simple leather-bound case. Inside lay the dagger his father had given him on his sixteenth birthday—long before anyone suspected Tarek might one day wear the crown.

  The blade was plain, practical, designed for utility rather than ceremony. Nothing like the jewel-encrusted daggers nobles wore as fashion accessories. This was a weapon meant to be used, and used well.

  Tarek slid the dagger into his boot, then reached deeper into the chest for the other item he would need—a small crystal vial filled with golden liquid that seemed to move with a life of its own.

  Concentrated Bloodright essence, extracted from his own veins during the ritual that had stabilized the newly restored Covenant. The royal physicians had warned him that removing even this small amount had been dangerous. That he should never attempt to use it except in the most dire circumstances.

  But if what Eliza had discovered was true—if something from beyond the boundary now threatened the kingdom—dire circumstances might be precisely what awaited him in Sunspire.

  He secured the vial in an inner pocket of his riding vest, where it rested against his heart. Then he began the practical work of preparing for the journey ahead, selecting clothing and equipment suited for speed and stealth rather than royal dignity.

  As he worked, he felt the Bloodright stirring within him, responding to his heightened emotions. Not just the fear for Eliza's safety or concern for the kingdom, but something darker, more primal—anger at those who would threaten what was his to protect.

  *Control*, he reminded himself, consciously slowing his breathing as the amber light beneath his skin intensified. *The magic serves you. Not the other way around.*

  But in the deepest hours of night, with no one to witness his struggle, Tarek Blackthorn could admit a truth he concealed from everyone else—that with each passing day, the line between himself and the ancient power he carried grew less distinct. That sometimes, in moments of strong emotion, he wasn't entirely certain where the king ended and the Bloodright began.

  That the voice of the magic, whispering in his blood, grew ever more persuasive.

  *They threaten what is yours. They endanger her. Make them pay.*

  Dawn was still hours away. By the time the sun rose, he would have his emotions firmly in check, the mask of the composed monarch firmly in place. But for now, alone in his chamber with only his thoughts for company, Tarek allowed himself to feel the full measure of his rage—and to wonder, in the secret corners of his heart, whether Eliza had been right to fear what he was becoming.

  ---

  The Western Gate of Highcrest stood quiet in the predawn glow, mist rising from the river that flowed beneath the city's massive walls. Guards saluted as Captain Frost approached, leading a group of thirteen riders mounted on the finest horses from the royal stables.

  Twelve of the riders wore the muted green and brown of King's Foresters—an elite scouting unit whose presence beyond the city would raise no eyebrows. The thirteenth, his face partially concealed by a hooded cloak despite the mild morning air, rode a magnificent black stallion that seemed almost too fine for a common soldier.

  "King's business," Frost told the gate captain. "We ride to assess game populations in the western forests. His Majesty desires fresh venison for the autumn feast."

  The gate captain nodded, not bothering to check their papers. Captain Frost's authority was unquestioned, his word sufficient to open any door in the kingdom.

  "Safe hunting, Captain," he said, signaling for the massive gates to be opened. "Though if you're after proper game, you'd do better heading south. Heard the western forests are thin pickings these days."

  "His Majesty's instructions were specific," Frost replied with a thin smile. "West it is."

  As they passed beneath the ancient stone archway, Tarek allowed himself one backward glance at the city that had been his home all his life. Highcrest rose behind them, its towers catching the first light of dawn, the royal palace at its heart gleaming like a crown atop the central hill. From the highest tower, the Highcrest Keystone pulsed with steady amber light, visible even at this distance—a reassuring beacon of magical stability.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  For now, at least.

  The disguised king turned his gaze forward. They would indeed head west initially, maintaining the pretense of a hunting expedition until they were well beyond the farms and villages that surrounded the capital. Only then would they turn south, taking the less-traveled paths through the borderlands between provinces.

  Four days to Sunspire, if all went well. Four days during which Eliza would be alone in the lion's den, with only her wits and a handful of disguised guards for protection.

  *Hold fast, Eliza*, he thought, his hand unconsciously moving to the amber ring. *I'm coming.*

  Whether she could sense his determination across the distance between them, he couldn't know. But the ring warmed slightly against his skin, and for a moment, Tarek allowed himself to believe it was her response.

  They rode in silence as the city fell away behind them, the rhythm of hoofbeats on packed earth a steady counterpoint to Tarek's thoughts. The twelve guards Frost had selected were veterans all, men who had proven their loyalty during the chaotic days following the old king's death. Men who would die before betraying their monarch's confidence.

  Men who, like Frost, had witnessed the full extent of the Bloodright's power during the battle for the Covenant—and chosen to serve Tarek anyway, despite what they had seen.

  Around midday, they stopped to rest the horses beside a clear stream that cut through a small meadow. As the guards attended to the animals and prepared a simple meal, Frost approached Tarek, who stood apart, gazing southward.

  "We're being followed," the captain said without preamble, his voice pitched low.

  Tarek didn't turn. "Since when?"

  "Since the city gates, I believe. Very skillful—keeping well back, using terrain for cover. If Jorven didn't have the sharpest eyes in the King's Guard, I might not have noticed at all."

  "How many?"

  "Two riders. Moving like professionals."

  "Assassins?" Tarek's hand drifted to the dagger in his boot.

  "Possibly." Frost's weathered face revealed nothing of his thoughts. "Or spies for one of the Great Houses. Perhaps even agents of House Solari, if they've indeed turned traitor."

  "Can we lose them?"

  "In the western forests, perhaps. The trails there are tangled, easy to double back." Frost glanced at the sky. "But it would cost us half a day, at least."

  Tarek considered their options. Half a day's delay might mean the difference between reaching Eliza in time and arriving too late. Yet leading potential enemies directly to Sunspire could compromise everything.

  "We'll deal with them now," he decided. "Set an ambush at the next suitable location. I want them taken alive if possible. Dead if necessary."

  Frost nodded, turning to relay instructions to the waiting guards. As he did, Tarek felt a strange sensation creep up his spine—a prickling awareness that had nothing to do with physical senses and everything to do with the magic that flowed through his veins.

  The Bloodright was responding to... something. A presence at the very edge of his magical awareness.

  He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation as Eliza had taught him during those first chaotic weeks after his ascension. The magic responded, extending his senses beyond normal human limits. The forest around them came alive in his awareness—birds in the branches, small creatures burrowing in the earth, fish in the stream.

  And something else. Something wrong.

  "Captain," he called, opening his eyes. "Those followers of ours—did Jorven describe them?"

  Frost returned to his side. "Two men on bay horses. Plain traveling clothes. Why?"

  "Because there's something else out there." Tarek lowered his voice. "Something that doesn't feel... human."

  The captain's hand moved instinctively to his sword hilt. "Beyond the boundary creatures?"

  "I don't know. It's different from anything I've encountered before." Tarek shook his head, frustrated by his inability to articulate what the Bloodright was sensing. "Not quite physical. A presence without substance, like a shadow without an object to cast it."

  "Magic?"

  "Perhaps. Whatever it is, it's aware of us." Tarek turned in a slow circle, scanning the forest edge. To normal eyes, nothing appeared amiss. But through the enhanced awareness granted by the Bloodright, he could sense it—a cold void moving among the living energies of the forest, leaving emptiness in its wake.

  Watching. Waiting.

  "We need to move." He turned to Frost. "Now. Forget the ambush—we'll deal with our human followers later. This is more urgent."

  The captain didn't argue, instantly recognizing the seriousness in Tarek's tone. Within minutes, the small company was mounted again, moving at a brisk pace toward the dense forest ahead.

  As they rode, Tarek felt the strange presence keeping pace, maintaining its distance yet never losing them. It moved with unnatural speed, sliding through the forest like smoke through cracks.

  By midafternoon, they had abandoned all pretense of heading west, turning directly south once they entered the deep cover of the ancient forest. The paths here were narrow, forcing them to ride single file, branches scraping against their shoulders as they pushed deeper into the green shadows.

  The human followers had dropped far behind, unable or unwilling to match their pace through the treacherous forest trails. But the other presence—the void that the Bloodright sensed—remained, inexorable as death itself.

  As dusk approached, they emerged from the forest into a small clearing dominated by a weathered stone circle—one of the ancient shrines erected in the days before the Covenant, when the Old Magic still flowed freely through the land.

  "We'll make camp here," Tarek decided. "The old magic in these stones may provide some protection."

  Frost raised an eyebrow but didn't question the decision. He'd seen enough of the Bloodright's power to trust Tarek's instincts in magical matters, even when he didn't understand them.

  As the guards established a perimeter and prepared a small fire, Tarek moved to the center of the stone circle. Here, the ambient magic was strongest—not the focused power of the Bloodright, but an older, wilder energy that lingered in the land itself. Placing his palms against the central altar stone, he closed his eyes, extending his senses once more.

  The presence remained at the edge of the clearing, seemingly unwilling to approach the ancient stones. Through the Bloodright's enhanced awareness, Tarek could almost see it now—a writhing darkness, neither fully physical nor completely ethereal. It pulsed with a sickly green light that was visible only to magical senses, not physical eyes.

  And it was watching him specifically, with a focused intensity that felt almost... hungry.

  Without opening his eyes, Tarek spoke to Frost, who stood nearby. "Captain, have the men prepare their weapons. Steel won't harm what's out there, but the old iron might. Have them take arrowheads or daggers from the offerings."

  The captain looked puzzled, but moved to obey, instructing the men to examine the small tokens that pilgrims had left at the shrine over the centuries—coins, arrowheads, small knives, all showing the patina of extreme age.

  "Cold iron from before the Covenant," Tarek explained, opening his eyes. "Forged with the Old Magic, before the boundary was established. It may prove effective against... whatever that is."

  "And what exactly is it, Your Majesty?" Frost asked quietly.

  "I believe," Tarek said grimly, "it's a scout. Something sent to watch me. To measure the Bloodright's strength."

  "Sent by whom?"

  "By whatever came through the boundary at Sunspire." Tarek straightened, decision made. "Wake me at midnight, Captain. I'll take the middle watch. And keep the men within the stone circle, no matter what they see or hear beyond it."

  As night fell fully, the forest around them came alive with normal sounds—owls calling, small creatures rustling in the underbrush. Yet not a single living thing ventured near the edge of the clearing where the presence lurked.

  In his bedroll near the central altar stone, Tarek lay awake long after the others had settled into uneasy sleep. Through half-closed eyes, he watched the darkness beyond the firelight, waiting for some sign of the watcher's intentions.

  None came. Only the sensation of being studied, evaluated, measured.

  Finally, exhaustion claimed him, pulling him down into restless dreams filled with whispers just beyond comprehension—voices speaking a language that resonated with the deepest currents of the Bloodright.

  He woke suddenly, hours later, to Frost's hand on his shoulder.

  "Your Majesty," the captain whispered. "It's midnight. Your watch."

  Tarek sat up, instantly alert. "Anything?"

  "Nothing visible. But..." Frost hesitated, uncharacteristically uncertain. "The men have been having dreams. Strange dreams, all similar—a green light calling them beyond the stones. Three had to be physically restrained from walking into the forest."

  A chill ran down Tarek's spine. "Have them drink from the spring behind the altar stone. The water here is blessed by the Old Magic. It may help clear their minds."

  As the men moved to obey, Tarek took position at the edge of the stone circle, facing the direction where he still sensed the watching presence. The Bloodright stirred within him, responding to the proximity of whatever lurked in the darkness.

  For nearly an hour, nothing changed. The watchers on the previous shift settled into their bedrolls, while those assigned to the middle watch took up positions around the circle's perimeter.

  Then, without warning, the air before Tarek shimmered, coalescing into a figure that stepped forward into the moonlight.

  It wore the shape of a man—or something that had once been a man. Tall, painfully thin, with skin that seemed stretched too tight over its frame. Its eyes were the worst part—entirely black, with tiny flecks of sickly green light that moved independently, like insects trapped beneath glass.

  "King of Lore," it said, its voice a dry whisper that seemed to bypass the ears and speak directly to the mind. "Keeper of the Bloodright."

  Tarek stood perfectly still, feeling the magic rise within him, ready to be called forth. Around the circle, he sensed rather than saw the guards tense, hands moving to weapons.

  "What are you?" he demanded, infusing his voice with the authority of the crown.

  "A messenger." The thing's mouth didn't move properly with its words, as if the act of speech was unfamiliar. "From those who ruled this land before your kind erected the boundary. From those who would speak with the Amber King."

  "Speak, then."

  The creature tilted its head at an impossible angle, those terrible eyes fixed on Tarek with unblinking intensity. "The breach at Sunspire is but the first. Others will follow. The boundary weakens with each passing day, with each drawing of power from the keystones."

  "By House Solari," Tarek said, seeking confirmation.

  A sound emerged from the creature that might have been laughter, had it contained any hint of human emotion. "House Solari serves, as all your kind will serve when the way is opened fully. They simply embraced their destiny earlier than most."

  "And what destiny is that?"

  "To return this realm to its rightful rulers." The creature took another step forward, stopping just short of the invisible line where the stone circle's protection began. "Those you know as the Order of Whispers were merely servants, preparing the way. Now their masters come to claim what was always theirs."

  Tarek felt cold rage building within him, the Bloodright responding with increasing intensity. Golden light began to shimmer beneath his skin, illuminating the clearing more brightly than the fire.

  "This realm belongs to its people," he said, his voice deepening as the magic infused it. "And I am its protector."

  "You are its doom," the creature countered. "The Bloodright you carry is not what you believe. It was never meant to protect. It was meant to open the way."

  The claim struck deep, resonating with fears Tarek had harbored since first manifesting the Bloodright's full power. He pushed the doubt aside, focusing on what mattered now.

  "What have you done with the people taken for 'quarantine' in Sunspire? What happens in the sealed wing of House Solari?"

  The creature's mouth stretched into a grotesque approximation of a smile. "Transformation. Illumination. The first of many to receive the blessing of our touch." It raised a hand, revealing elongated fingers that ended in translucent claws. "As your companion in Sunspire will soon discover."

  Eliza. It was speaking of Eliza.

  Rage exploded through Tarek, the Bloodright surging in response. Before he could master himself, golden energy erupted from his outstretched hand, a spear of pure magical force that pierced the creature's chest.

  Rather than falling, the thing stared down at the amber light impaling it with an expression almost like satisfaction. Then it raised its gaze to Tarek's face once more.

  "We will meet again, Amber King," it whispered. "When you come to Sunspire. When you see what becomes of those you love."

  Then it simply... unraveled, its form dissolving into mist that dissipated on the night breeze, leaving behind only a lingering sense of wrongness in the air.

  The golden energy retracted back into Tarek's palm as his rage gave way to cold dread. The creature hadn't feared his power. Had seemed almost pleased by his display of the Bloodright.

  *The Bloodright you carry is not what you believe. It was never meant to protect. It was meant to open the way.*

  He turned to find Frost and the guards staring at him, their faces illuminated by the amber light still emanating from his skin.

  "We ride for Sunspire," Tarek commanded, his voice hard with determination. "No more stops. No more rest than absolutely necessary. Lady Vantian is in far greater danger than we realized."

  As the men hurried to break camp despite the late hour, Frost approached Tarek, concern evident in his weathered features.

  "Your Majesty, what was that thing?"

  "A harbinger," Tarek replied grimly. "And a warning of what awaits us in the south." He looked down at his hands, where amber energy still pulsed beneath the skin. "Captain, if I should... change. If the Bloodright should overwhelm me—"

  "It won't," Frost said firmly.

  "But if it does," Tarek insisted, meeting the older man's gaze directly. "Your first duty is to the realm, not to me. Remember that."

  Understanding dawned in Frost's eyes—understanding and a deep sadness. "I have served three kings of the Blackthorn line, Your Majesty. I will not fail the fourth."

  Whether this was acceptance of the grim order or rejection of its premise remained unclear. But it was the closest thing to a promise Tarek was likely to receive.

  As they mounted up and rode south through the moonlit forest, the king of Lore felt the Bloodright churning within him, responding to emotions he could scarcely control. Fear for Eliza's safety. Rage at the threat to his kingdom. And beneath it all, a growing suspicion that had taken root the moment the creature spoke of the Bloodright's true purpose.

  What if everything he thought he knew about his power was wrong? What if, in using it to protect the realm, he was unwittingly playing into the hands of whatever lurked beyond the boundary?

  Worse still—what if Eliza had been right all along? What if the power was changing him, preparing him for some darker purpose he couldn't yet comprehend?

  Questions without answers. Doubts without resolution. And ahead, a race against time to reach Sunspire before whatever dwelled in House Solari's sealed wing claimed the woman he loved.

  Tarek Blackthorn, First of His Name, King of Lore and Keeper of the Bloodright, rode south beneath the cold stars, the amber energy of his birthright glowing like a beacon in the night—a light that might guide the way to salvation or illuminate the path to ruin.

  Only time would tell which.

  And time, he feared, was the one resource they could not afford to waste.