The King's Gambit: The Bastard Son Returns

Keiser felt an all-consuming anger the instant his eyes met those ice-blue ones, the same eyes that haunted him deep in his bones.

He remembered the burn of her runes searing through his flesh, the way his body had felt like it was melting from the inside out, and the hollow ache in his chest as his dragonbone hilt sword had been the only thing keeping him upright.

He didn't even notice how his mana had somehow connected to her's, how Muzio's mana was now threaded to hers, a faint string linking their arms.

He was too consumed by that same mocking look on her face, the one she wore when she had once stood beside Gideon. He didn't notice that she was taller than she should have been, only because he was still standing on the floor above.

Nor did he see the dark haze of mana curling around her, mingling with blue, the same kind he had seen around Olga, seeping like smoke from the bleeding cuts beneath the cloak she wore.

He moved before logic could follow, dagger flashing in his hands, the strings of the mana snapping tight. He pulled hard on the connection, forcing the air to split around him as he leapt forward.

He was going to end it.

She would fall.

His dagger found her throat, the steel biting into her skin.

Blood trickled down in a thin, bright line.

Only then did he see what he had missed.

The dragon child coiled around Aisha's arm, her wide green eyes gleaming with fright and fury. She was shielding Aisha, squeezing his arm to keep his blade from biting deeper.

For a second, Keiser's vision split in two.

One side burned with the image of ice-blue eyes framed by a cascade of pale blonde hair, that same cruel, knowing smile tugging at her lips, a smile that seemed to mock him, to dare him to push harder, even as his arm trembled beneath the weight of the claw clutching it.

But in the other half of his vision, something entirely different.

A pair of wide, terrified green eyes, glassy with panic, freckles scattered across skin, and short, coppery hair tangled and wild from the struggle. He wasn't mocking him. He wasn't taunting him. He was scared, confused, and for a fleeting heartbeat, that fear reached him through the haze of his rage.

The two images clashed and overlapped, his mind unable to tell which was real. His head throbbed, his mana pulsed unevenly, and it felt as if both visions were tearing at him from within, one urging him to strike, the other begging him to stop.

His arm trembled.

Then, everything burst apart.

A surge of mana erupted from dragon child, slamming into him like a wave. Claws struck his chest, raking down his side. The dragon child, had leapt at him, shoving him backward with a strength that should have been impossible for her size.

He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Before he could recover, the child pinned him down, her small frame shaking with fury. Her deep green scales shimmered faintly under the dim light, her tail snapping against the stone, her ears twitching with rage.

Keiser bared his teeth, a snarl caught in his throat. Every instinct in him screamed to fight back, to rip through anything that stood between him and the woman who had betrayed him. His pulse hammered in his ears, a rhythm of rage and grief twisted into one.

Little flame would not understand.

The voice, whether it was memory, guilt, or something else entirely, seared through his head. Aisha was probably here for her, to flay her scales, to strip her bones clean, to carve what remained into the blade he had carried.

The dragonbone hilt sword was a grave. A memorial bound to every soul whose blood had stained his hands, blood he had given, blood he had taken, blood he had unknowingly forced the dragon to bear for him.

He wanted to kill her. He needed to.

But then, the dragon child's hand slammed against his face, claws catching his cheek and drawing blood. Her voice cracked, trembling but fierce.

"Why are you being like this?!" she shouted. "You told me to save him, and now you want to attack him?!"

Keiser froze.

Her words echoed inside his skull, cutting through the haze of hatred. His breathing came in ragged bursts. Slowly, he reached up and took her small hand in his own, lowering it gently from his face.

He could feel her claws trembling against his palm.

For the first time, he really looked at her, at the tears clinging to her lashes, at the fear and confusion behind her anger.

And then he looked up.

The light from the gaping crater, harsh against the ruin. It burned his eyes, but he couldn't look away.

He realized he'd been blind, blinded by fury, by vengeance so consuming it had turned him into something monstrous. Like them.

He had told the child to save, not destroy.

And now he was the one who'd forgotten.

Keiser's chest heaved as he let out a shaking breath, his blade still glinting faintly beside him, his reflection in it fractured and barely human.

He was blinded, not by light, but by rage.

"Your Highness?"

The voice, hoarse, confused, pulled Keiser out of the haze in his mind. He flinched at the sound, forcing his eyes to the side. Instead of Aisha, it was Lenko, bloody, breathing hard, and glaring down at him with a mixture of disbelief and exhaustion.

Before he could say anything, a small fist thudded hard against his chest. "If you were just going to kill him," the dragon child snapped, her emerald eyes blazing, "why did you make me waste my time saving him!?"

Keiser let out a ragged snort despite himself. "Yeah, no, little flame… that's not---" He cut himself short when he noticed the knife clutched in her hand. She hadn't stabbed him yet, but she looked like she might change her mind any second.

Before he could calm her, or himself, a shout echoed down from above.

"H-hey! What the hell was that!?"

Tyron's voice. Frantic, shaking. Even from here, Keiser could hear the tremor in his tone. The princess was beside him, trying to peer down through the fractured edges of the crater, she faintly scanning the shadows below.

"We're fine!" Lenko shouted back, pressing a hand over his neck. Blood seeped between his fingers. The wound wasn't deep, but long enough to draw blood with every breath.

Keiser pushed himself to his feet, steadying the dragon child as she staggered beside him. Then, something. A shift in the heat. Mana.

He reacted instantly, pulling the child against his arm and stepping protectively in front of Lenko, dagger drawn. His gaze snapped upward, tracing the dark where he could feel it, the heat of mana.

And there she really was.

Aisha.

Lounging like a cat atop a crumbling iron cage, balancing with infuriating ease. The pale glow from the crater's opening barely touched her, letting the darkness cloak her form.

Her golden hair spilled freely against her cloak, lazy waves catching bits of dust and dim light. Her eyes, icy, vivid blue, cut through the gloom with their familiar, merciless gleam.

Keiser felt his pulse spike. Anger rushed up his throat, hot and suffocating, but he forced it down this time. No more blind rage.

"Well," she said at last, her voice dripping with that same taunting tone he remembered all too well. "You do seem different."

Keiser kept his gaze locked on her. "And you never changed, did you?" he muttered, his voice strained.

He clamped his hand down over the squirming child on his free arm. The other hand was numb, its lacerations, from the runed steel of the dragon's cage and the broken arrow still lodged in it, slick with blood. His fingers, wrapped around the dagger hilt, dripped onto the blade, making the runes glow with fresh crimson mana.

Aisha arched an eyebrow, brushing her hair away from her face with one gloved hand. "Oh, you remember me. Good." Her lips curved, though it wasn't quite a smile, something colder, sharper.

The words struck Keiser oddly, as he was now Muzio, and it made him wonder.

If what she said hinted that it was Gideon who had arranged for Muzio to be cast out of the board, then it only confirmed his suspicion. Muzio must have been someone of real significance to Gideon, important enough to be singled out and removed.

He should have known.

Even back then, Aisha had always been crafty. He'd known she was an academy mage, yes, but he'd never known her number name... Seventh… a mage known for their mastery over mana manipulation.

Shouts broke out above again before he could process the thought.

Keiser's head snapped up.

Olga.

She had broken free of the the sixth princess' bindings. The other mercenary, was now the one clutching those same writhing fabrics. His body should have been still... Keiser had seen him dead moments ago.

Yet he stood there now, puppet-like, twitching as the carpet squirmed in his hands. Even from where he stood, Keiser could see Aisha's mana flickering around both of them like smoke.

Then he saw it.

The arrow had already been loosed, too late for anyone to react.

Even if he had thrown his dagger toward it, even if little flame had raised her arm to form a shield, and even if Lenko's parchment had already burnt through his fingers.

'Help' wouldn't have changed the outcome.

Their eyes met for the briefest moment, Lenko's wide and green, Keiser's sharp and hollow red ones. No. Muzio's...

And then the arrow struck.

Straight into Lenko's chest.