The Rivaled Crown (The Veiled Kingdom, #3)

by Holly Renee

The tideborn’s gift, bound in chain, To break the bond or bind again.

“What does that mean?” My father’s voice rang out, but the Sight didn’t acknowledge him and neither did I. “Born of two kingdoms,” she murmured. ”Bound to take, yet cursed to mourn.”

“Please.” Tears ran down my face as I pleaded with her, my voice raw and desperate, but I didn’t know what I was asking. She blinked, and whatever force had overtaken her seemed to fade. She swayed slightly, reaching for the stone wall behind her as if steadying herself. My father took a slow, measured step toward her. ”What was that? What did you see?” The Sight finally met his gaze, but her expression remained void of emotion. But I couldn’t hear her words as she spoke. I was waning, buckling under the overwhelming weight of the vessel’s power. But then a tiny spark ignited in the air, triggering a shift in the atmosphere around me. A warmth circled in my chest, steady and strong, cutting through the hazy fear that consumed me.

The magic that pushed inside me now was like warm honey pooling within me, slow and steady, a quiet strength in the chaos. It wrapped around me, not pulling, not taking—only shielding. It was different from the vessel’s hunger. It didn’t want to consume me. It wanted to keep me whole. It wanted to keep me safe. It was my bond. It was my mate. I didn’t know what was real inside me and what was an illusion, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I could feel him, and nothing else mattered at that moment. My own magic twisted inside me, not in pain this time, but in recognition. Dacre was fighting. He was coming for me.

“Verena!” my father shouted my name, but I barely heard him. Instead, I clung to the only thing keeping me tethered to myself. And in a whisper, so soft it barely passed my lips, I breathed his name. “Dacre.”

The king’s guards patrolled in thick rotations, their torches flickering like the last remnants of a world the king was burning to the ground. There were more of them than there had been yesterday, and that was a problem. I tugged at the stiff collar of my stolen uniform, trying to ignore the suffocating weight of the fabric against my skin. The crest embroidered on my chest made my stomach churn, but Micah had been right. This uniform, this guise, it was the only way we were getting inside the palace.

“Do you see them?” Wren’s voice was barely more than a whisper. She crouched low beside me, her fingers hovering just above the handle of her dagger as her eyes scanned the streets. Kai was just behind us, blending into the shadows of the alleyway. His magic hummed softly in the air, weaving an illusion around us, a simple stretch of empty cobblestone where our bodies should have been. A well-placed distraction, one that had kept us hidden thus far, but Kai couldn’t hold it for much longer.