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ominus rode to the paddock in the early rise of dawn as the sun melted the belligerent chill of the night before. A ghoul attendant untacked the hippogriffs as they shook their shaggy, silken manes and fluffed their spacious wings.

Dominus reached out with a leather-gloved hand to pet the gnarled curve of Talon’s beak, then into one of the feeding buckets to toss him a dead white mouse. Talon speared it on the edge of his spiked teeth with one quick jerk of a neck and chewed appreciatively at his catch.

Since Darius’ arrest Dominus had acted as expected, absconding deep into the woods for a lengthy getaway. He hadn’t wanted to be seen nor spoken to, instead burrowing deep into the wound of his anger and disbelief at having watched his older brother be carried away in chains after trying to murder his beloved.

He flexed his gloved hand in a subconscious gesture, remembering how right it had felt when he’d enclosed both around Darius’ long, elegant throat. He’d watched his face become a deadly shade of cyan to match his eyes as the pipe to his air grew slimmer and slimmer. He’d have wrenched his head from his shoulders right there had the Lightshields not been quick to disarm him with a lightning bolt and briskly escorted his brother away.

He couldn’t understand why his brother would’ve wanted to hurt Laila, why it seemed Darius always wanted to cause ill to anything he happened to hold dear. He tried to recall a time when they were boy-cubs and the worst quarrel they ever had was deciding which hippogriff was theirs. In the end they’d made a bet at midnight to take turns climbing onto the back of their chosen mount and whichever one was quickest to be tossed off would be the one who declared the loss.

It had gone wrong though, as things often did, and in their bid to fulfil their petulant childish needs they had soon set loose five hippogriffs. Ten. Twenty. They’d stampeded past the barriers of the stable gates and once free began to soar their way to liberation.

He and Darius had spent the entire night wrangling them, eventually having to awaken the stable master and his attendants to join them in their lassoing and coaxing. Darius had decided to assume the blame in the aftermath, a gesture for which Dominus had found himself eminently grateful. For even though his father had never raised a hand against him, he still lived in eternal fear of his disappointment.

So he had watched as Darius unburdened his shames onto their patriarch with meek-mouse eyes and timid apologies. He should’ve known, of course, that his brother could never talk his father’s incendiary rage into a ceasefire, that he would only ever see his son’s contrition as a show of soft underbelly. Darius extended a hand and his father repaid him by crushing it.

His kneecaps next.

Dominus didn’t quite remember all that had happened, when his father had finally stopped beating Darius, but he did remember the way he had cowered behind his knee all the while, smooth and unblemished as a newborn.

Perhaps that had been it then. The sad, cyclical tragedy of it all. His father hurt Darius and so Darius in turn hurt him. And on and on and on it went. He should think it would be good that they were rid of each other now, that his arrest had severed the chain. But all Dominus could think of was all he had yet to say, all the questions he needed yet answered.

He tossed another mouse to Darius’ hippogriff, Razer, before his ears picked up the frequency of light footfalls that could only belong to a ghoul.

“Yes?” Dominus asked as he inhaled a breath of mint-refreshing air.

“His Majesty requests your presence in the Eyrie.”

Dominus straightened the cuff of his gloves and followed the ghoul at once.

Once inside, he scaled the steps to the council room in search of his father. What he was met with instead was a blackness so dense it almost appeared corporeal. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the murk before he entered.

“Papa?” Dominus called out. He edged a toe into the room and saw the curtains were drawn, the fireplace long snuffed, the sconces and chandelier similarly smothered.

The room looked long abandoned and yet Dominus could scent the pungent vapour of his father’s sweet graviji wine through the air. He used his predator senses to scan about the room until he found him, a thickened bloat against the wall.

“Close the door behind you,” Lanius ordered.

Dominus did as he was told. As he did so a flame struck into existence with a fizzle as Lanius lit each branch of a candelabrum held within his fingers.

“What is the meaning of all this?” Dominus asked, stepping forward with arms spread.

“Keep your voice down,” Lanius whispered harshly. The candelabrum was lifted close to his face, presenting him with a ghoulish visage. “I need them not to know I’m here.” His eyes darted. “Eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Papa,” Dominus sighed, struggling to control his volume, “what are you talking about?”

Lanius crooked a finger to beckon him near. “They’re plotting against me.”

“Who are?”

“Everyone. All of them. I know not who I can trust.” As he said this, Lanius swung around again with the candelabrum brandished. It was as though, to him, even his own shadow was in on the plot. “Can I trust you, my boy?”

“Of course you can,” Dominus said, eyes softly earnest. He hated to see this, his own proud father reduced to a skittish maniac afraid of his own voice. He felt a deep anger stir in him, belly deep, at those responsible for his ails.

“Yes, yes.” Lanius nodded to himself. “I always have been able to trust you haven’t I, my boy? You are a good boy.” He reached out to affirmatively grip his shoulder. “Not like that other one.” He made a disgruntled noise upon reference to Darius. “A disappointment all the way to his own grave should the solarites be merciful.”

“Yes,” Dominus said, swallowing the swell of anger that rose. “I only wish I could understand the inner workings of his mind.”

“Well, it was obvious, was it not?” Lanius’ brows raised in incredulity that Dominus hadn’t reached the conclusion himself. “He was jealous of you. Always has been. He saw you return home with a foreign princess on your arm like a trinket and thought himself entitled to her. He’s always wanted what you had, Doma. Ever since you were boys.”

“Yes,” Dominus said, unable to deny the truth of it. “Yes, you’re right.”

“If there is one bright spot in all his treachery it is that we are both well rid of him. I beg you to put him out of your mind, son. Spare him a thought no longer. We have other matters to attend to.” Lanius brushed past him towards the table and settled the candelabrum down.

“Such as?” Dominus asked.

Lanius gripped the table’s edge, drumming his fingers against it. “My enemies grow numerous by the day and it is certain they will soon come knocking. They will first, however, seek to corrupt you against me.”

“That will never happen!” Dominus exclaimed in indignation. “I would sooner gut a traitor with my own hands then turn against you. I will only ascend in the event you ask it of me, Papochka. No sooner.”

“Of course, of course,” Lanius said, chuckling softly, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Yes. Still, you will need to be prepared for this. Expect treachery everywhere you go. Don’t cede ground to anyone. I simply need to burn a fire hot enough to wipe out this corrupt growth and once it is ashes—” He brought a piece of paper to the fire and let it ignite. “We can continue to the next step.”

“Which is?”

Lanius turned to him slowly, his smile faint. “The conquest of Soleterea.”

“Papa?” Dominus didn’t know what to say.

Lanius seized his son’s shoulders and held him firm. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it? Don’t you see you have the opportunity to benefit most of all? You want to take the star princess as your bride, yes? Do you think she would ever relinquish her right to rule to join your side? This way you don’t even have to ask, you may simply take. You cannot tell me such a thought has never once occurred?”

Dominus’ mouth floundered, wordless. Should he ever have cast a thought to conquer her homeland he knew Laila would never again forgive him.

“What do you say, son?” Lanius bared his teeth like a shark. “Join me in the makings of our empire.”

Dominus opened his mouth, closed it again. He felt adrift with no anchor.

“Of course, this is overwhelming,” Lanius said, his grip softly receding. “I’ll give you time to think about it. But I expect you to be at my side, my son. As you always have. I trust you will not fail me.”

Dominus paused after a swallow. “Yes, Papa.”

He retreated to his mother’s quarters after. There she and Laila sat, awaiting him, bloodied wolfsbane left to puff smoke on the fire.

“Doma!” Vasilisa exclaimed brightly as soon as her son darkened the doorstep. “Oh, thank Calante , you've arrived. We’ve been waiting for you all morning.”

“I’ve just gotten back from speaking with my father,” Dominus explained, scratching behind his ear before he took his mother’s hand. “I strongly feel he is unwell, Mamochka. You should go to him at once.”

“Yes, of course,” Vasilisa said, guiding him towards the divan, “that is what we were hoping to discuss with you.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, it is as you say, Dominus,” Laila said, reaching for his hand. She realised it had been the first in an age they had ever touched each other. “Your father is unwell. Deeply unwell. Several in the kingdom have begun to fear for his health to the point where—”

“What is this?” Dominus asked, snatching his hand away. “What are you talking about?”

“Doma, please,” Vasilisa begged, “I pray you listen.”

“No.” He burst up from his seat. “I see what you mean to say. You believe he is unfit and thus should be forced to abdicate.” He paced around the room, rubbing his temples. “You know, he did say I should expect treachery from every corner but I had not expected this.”

“Dominus—” Vasilisa chastised.

“No, Mother,” Dominus roared back. The taut sinews in his neck flared. “You are supposed to be his wife. You pledged yourself to him. An eternity of loyalty and devotion. And now you go behind his back and conspire against him?”

“Don’t you dare speak to me this way!” Vasilisa cried, voice shrill and eyes blackened, “I have done nothing but stay steadfast by his side for centuries. Even while he constantly sought the ghost of another in my face. I was a good wife to him. Loyal and devoted and true. But I have seen the way that he has degraded, Doma, even as you remained adamant in blinding yourself to it. I have seen whatever was salvageable in him depart as he slinked further and further into cruelty and indifference. And my only fear, my one consideration, was that I cannot sit back and wait until he turns on you. So yes, I turned from him. Because the only thing that might surpass any duty I feel towards him is the love I carry for you—” Her voice broke, face rippling into sobs.

Dominus knew he couldn’t face her then. He loathed nothing more than to see his mother’s tears. Yet his father’s own words still dug their claws into his mind and whatever guilt he may feel for hurting her, he could not let himself be stirred to treason.

“I can’t hear much more of this.” He turned on his foot, making haste towards the exit.

“Dominus.” Laila got immediately to her feet. She blurred past him until she was obstructing the way. “Listen.”

He took a step forward, looming over her. But she remained rooted.

“If you won’t hear your mother then at least hear me. I know you and I haven’t always seen ourselves on the greatest of terms as of late but. Please—” She took his jaw in her hand “—if you have any softness in your heart left towards me, I am asking for your help.”

Dominus’ throat bobbled as he saw the quiet desperation in her gaze. He began to look away.

“We can be together, you and me, on the throne in Mortos.” Laila took his other jaw in her hand and turned him to face her. “We can face your father down together. Stand up to him, for once. Just please, help us.” She closed her eyes and projected a reel of images of them together in the Audience Room’s blanched white chill, both seated on their thrones of bones. Him dour in black velvet, her in festive red by his side. A mirror of his parents. “Please,” she asked again, pulling back to look up at him with tear-clouded vision.

“Laila,” Dominus exhaled softly, leaning against her forehead. “You know I’d do anything for you, but I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Laila persisted, “your father has already tried to order my death once before. If he isn’t stopped there’s no saying when he will attempt it again—”

“What do you mean he ordered your death once before?”

“Darius told me that—”

“Darius,” Dominus chuckled dryly, “oh, and you believe him?”

“He was under oath and illumination enchantment,” Laila said, indignant at his mirth, “he couldn’t lie to us.”

“I think my brother has proven he’s more than capable of overcoming enchantments.”

“And I suppose your father was the one who told you he acted alone?”

“Yes,” Dominus snarled, “and I trust him a great deal more than my snake of a brother. I can tell you that.”

“Then you are a fool.”

Dominus recoiled from the words as though struck. “Insult me if you wish. Cry if you desire. The fact remains that I will not help you. This isn’t what I want, Laila. I don’t want to be rex. I’ve never wanted it.”

Her entire body went cold, her tears freezing mid-spill. Then she lowered her hands from him. “Then you and I have nothing more to say to one another,” she said, her tone sharp and clipped. She felt whatever flicker of tender feeling might remain for him become inexorably snuffed.

“What does that mean?” he asked. But she wouldn’t answer him. He ensnared her by the wrist to shake her like an empty tin, hoping for the words to fall free. “What does that mean, Laila?”

“It means that I’m through with you.” She was crystallised composure, each of her words glazed with a thin sheet of ice. And where had this coldness come from? Dominus wondered if she’d always been this cold beneath it all and he’d been conned by her veneer, her sun-warmed surface, taking the plunge before he had time to grow wise to the frigid depths that awaited beneath.

He could only step back in disbelief, bitten by her frost. Before a volcanic rage burned through him in denial. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, yes.” Laila spluttered out a dry laugh. “I do.” Then the mirth melted from her face, giving way to indifference. “Get out.” She laid her hands flat on his chest and shoved him. “Get out.”

He snarled back at her with his monster-blackened eyes revealed, claws unsheathed as he embedded them into her stomach, yanking her towards him.

Laila barely had time to recover before he sank his fangs into the side of her neck and emptied a shot of venom into her bloodstream that caused her muscles to languish. Her body acted on instinct, igniting with a voltage high enough to feel him go limp and lifeless in her grip.

She peeled him off of her like a leech and deposited him to the floor, sterilising the venom still lurking in her bloodstream. That was the thing about light, it wasn’t all pageantry. It could blind, blister and burn too. She put a hand to her wounded neck, feeling it mend beneath her touch.

Lyra appeared a moment later with her rifle at the ready, pressing the butt of her firearm into his neck, her foot on his back.

“If you ever put your teeth on me again,” Laila sneered, “I’ll put you down like a dog.”