Page 171 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

And yet, the grandest thing in the room was the silence.

An unnatural, suffocating silence.

The three Fae sisters sat at the table in eerie stillness, unmoving. Unblinking.

Kage took a step forward, his muscles coiled, every fiber of his being screaming in warning.

Something was wrong.

Flora sat at the head, her face tilted slightly downward, dreadlocks falling over her shoulder in thick, white ropes. The very tips of them were dark. Red. So were her hands, where they rested delicatelyupon the table.

Kage moved to her side, hesitating only for a moment before reaching out.

Gently, he lifted her chin.

His breath hitched.

A single, perfect line cut across her throat, her skin parted so cleanly it looked almost delicate. The deep crimson spilt down her chest, soaking the fabric of her dress, pooling upon the table in a grotesque display of elegance.

Her sisters had suffered the same fate.

A murder executed with precision. With skill. With intent.

The door behind him clicked shut.

Slowly, Kage straightened.

A figure stood in the doorway, her silhouette outlined in the dim glow of torchlight.

A woman.

Young.

Familiar.

A dangerously wicked smile painted across her face.

‘Vera?’ Kage’s voice was barely above a whisper. His mind warred with what his eyes saw. It was her, and yet… it was not. The likeness was uncanny. Identical, even. But there was something wrong, something in the air that sent every instinct in his body into battle readiness.

The girl’s dark brows furrowed slightly before amusement kindled in her eyes.

A heartbeat later, she lifted her hands, and green magic crackled across her fingers like vines of fire. Before he could react, a blast of power erupted from her palms, slamming into his chest.

Pain tore through him as he was flung backward, his body colliding with the heavy wooden table. The force sent the legs snapping beneath its weight, the sound of splintering woodechoing through the room as he crashed onto the floor amidst the wreckage.

His head spun.

His ribs burnt.

But it was the way she stood over him—grinning—that unsettled him the most.

She crouched, fingers curling as her nails traced over his cheek in a mockery of curiosity. A slow, deliberate scratch, just enough to sting.

Her gaze flickered to the bodies surrounding them, then back to him, her lips parting, tongue darting out as if she could taste the chaos in the air.

Then, she whispered, ‘How doyouknow my sister?’

It is terrifying how all those you love so deeply could so easily turn their backs on you.

---