The Irath King did not move quickly, nor did he need to.
He simply turned his masked face toward the Lord Chancellor.
The Chancellor stiffened, the arm that gripped the sword lowering involuntarily, as though it no longer obeyed him. His mouth opened, not in defiance, but in a sudden, voiceless gasp.
And then he dropped, as if the very life had been ripped out of him.
The other two Kalandir froze, their silver eyes wide.
They rushed to him, and one of them held him.
Seneschal, the Lord Chancellor and High-King of the Kalandir, had died, just as the High-Queen had died.
"That is not possible," one Kalandir whispered. "We are eternal."
They looked to the last person they thought might have an answer, Vell, desperate for an explanation.
He gave it, his gaze fixed on the mask.
"That thing he's wearing, it's not a mask. It's the most powerful artifact I've ever seen. It just ripped out the Chancellor's soul."
"The souls of the Kalandir are untouchable!"
"They should be. And the power it would take to do that…" He shook his head. "It's unthinkable."
They swallowed hard, watching the Irath King's stillness like one might watch a predator in the grass. "How much?" they asked.
"Centuries' worth," Vell said. "Millions of lives. It would take… entire generations. Nobody can hold that much power without… changing. Which means he's been working toward this for a very long time."
The two remaining Kalandir stepped back, their expressions shifting from shock to dread.
Vell knew that look, the fear of death. They were feeling it for the first time.
He turned his head just enough to speak to them without taking his eyes off the King.
"Get out. Both of you. Now."
The taller of the two Kalandir parted his lips in protest. "You can't, "
"I can," Vell snapped. "You won't survive another breath in here if he decides you're next. Go."
They hesitated, but the command in his voice was iron. Reluctantly, they moved toward the shattered doors, retreating one measured step at a time, their eyes never leaving the golden figure upon the throne.
Vell turned to the last person who remained. "You too, Sonder."
She didn't move.
"I said go," Vell repeated, his voice unyielding.
She shook her head. Her throat was tight, but her voice was steady. "No."
Her hand was already on the hilt of her sword, the air around her humming faintly as the magic she had held back since entering the palace flowed into the enchanted bracelets on her arm.
Vell studied her for a heartbeat.
Then, without looking away from the King, he said quietly, "Then stay behind me."