The sun had barely risen when Lyla stood at the heart of the Marked Ones’ stronghold, her silver eyes burning with something more dangerous than anger.

This was not just fury.

This was purpose.

The Elders had made their move.

They had sent an assassin into her home.

Into her throne.

They had tried to kill her in the dark like a coward’s strike, believing they could remove her before the war had even begun.

And they had failed.

Lyla clenched her fists, the shadows curling at ...