The soldiers dropped Anders in a heap on the exotic rug. He could barely register the pain in his chest as the Duke approached him. “You wretched snake, you Judas...”

“My loyalty is to Welbournehale and Her people,” Krystofyr snapped. “You had me fooled for years, but now I can see past your guile to what is true.”

“You were our friend!”

“And I thought you were mine,” he replied. “Gwynnyth was always strange, but I never suspected she was possessed. Now it all makes sense. I can see she roped you into her demonic schemes as well.” Krystofyr pointed a sword at him. “You are unfit to rule. I never wanted to be king, but I will do whatever it takes to bring order and morality back to Welbournehale.”

“Gwynnyth is innocent!” Anders lunged at the Duke, but two noblemen held him back. “Let me go!”

Jeering, the conspirators mocked their king and tore his fine clothing. Krystofyr held his righteous scowl as they ripped off Anders’ sleeves and tights. 

But then one man cried in alarm, then another. They dropped Anders and backed away, eyes wide with fear.

Anders fumbled on the ground, but the sight of his hand wiped all plans of escape from his mind. A gray patch that had appeared on his palm quickly darkened to black. He stared in horror at his own skin as the blackness spread from his hands and feet up the rest of his body. Around him, soldiers and noblemen drew their swords, full of malice but scared to approach. 

Anders’ whole skin turned velvet-black, the same deep shade as a sky with no stars. His eyes glowed pale blue, the color of the Life Fairy, the color inside his stillborn son’s skull. He couldn’t steady his shallow breathing.

Krystofyr, slack-jawed with shock, broke the silence. “I was wrong about Gwynnyth. She was the one turned to sin. You were the demon all along.”