Fenrir sets down his knife, the metal clattering slightly against his plate. "The divide between magickal beings and non-magickal has grown worse." His eyes flick briefly to me. "The Enclave has consolidated power and hunts magick just as aggressively as GUIDE's Inquisitors. They're using technology and weapons we haven't seen before. It will not be an easy fight."
"And GUIDE is ruthless," Wraith adds, his voice hollow. "Public executions are frequent. I witnessed three in different cities during our two-week stay."
A chill runs down my spine and my mother’s face before she died flashes through my mind. The pain on her face. The horrific screams that echoed across the town square as my stepfather hid me. We were powerless to help her. GUIDE made an example of her to keep the average person terrified. To ensure people reported anyone who might have powers, even their own family members.
"The Enclave? GUIDE?" Hawke asks, leaning forward. "Who are they?"
Ares' expression darkens. "The Enclave is a secret society of people who remained on earth that do their absolute best to control everyone who has magick. GUIDE are humans that hunt and kill anyone with magick. Both are formidable enemies, though for different reasons." He takes a deep breath and looks up right at me. “It is so much more of a miracle that you made it to Avalon than we first realized, isn’t it?”
I nod, thinking of everyone who died to get me through that door. My entire family sacrificed their lives to get me here. To give me a chance at survival and something more.
I can’t let them down.
Hawke leans toward me and kisses my temple, his lips lingering against my skin. "A true miracle, my love," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. The tenderness in his voice momentarily shields me from the weight of all we face.
The scrape of Boaz's chair draws our attention back to the table. He shifts uncomfortably and his gaze darts away from our intimate moment. A flash of longing crosses his features before he masks it with determined focus.
"The rebellion has mapped bloodlines, tracked anomalies, and found lists of promising candidates," he says, his voice strained. The candlelight catches the grey patches creeping up his neck. "It's just a matter of time."
Time they don't have. I look at his fingers again, the grey stone-like texture spreading visibly even in the short time we've been at the table. The sight makes my chest tighten with renewed urgency.
"We need to discuss next steps," Hawke says, his hand finding mine under the table again. "The search must continue, but we need to address this decree from the Council. They're trying to hang onto any shred of power they can."
I stare into the dancing flames of the nearest candle, thoughts racing. The political landscape of the eight realms unfolds in my mind like a strategic map. Four kingdoms against four. A deadlock that threatens everything we're working to fix. We need more allies, more resources, more time.
An idea forms, crystallizing with sudden clarity. "We need more of the kingdoms on our side," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. All eyes turn to me as I continue. "We should send an envoy to Hades and Zeus. They respect strength and directness."
Ares looks up sharply, something like approval flickering in his eyes.
"Both rulers are prideful but practical," I continue, remembering everything I've studied about the eight realms since my arrival. "If we can convince them that supporting us serves their interests better than aligning with the Council..."
"I'll go," I add, the decision forming even as I speak it. The room falls silent, heavy with surprise.
Hawke's fingers tighten almost painfully around mine. "Absolutely not." Through our bond, I feel his fear—sharp and immediate, a lightning strike of protective rage.
"Think about it," I press, my mind racing ahead to envision the diplomatic approach. "What better way to show strength than for me to walk right into their court? To face them directly? Both Hades and Zeus would respect such a bold move."
"Or they do something stupid because they're selfish assholes," Kellan says quietly from his position by the wall. His blunt assessment cuts through the diplomatic veneer I've been constructing in my mind.
I turn in my chair to look at my bodyguard. His dark eyes meet mine with understanding but firm disagreement. "My duty is to protect you, my queen. Zeus and Hades are both unpredictable."
“That’s why we need to start there. Zeus is already walking the line–helping us discreetly while avoiding the Council’s censure. But we need more than ambrosia. We need his public support.”
My fingers trace the rim of my goblet as I continue. "If Zeus openly declares for us, Hades would likely follow."
"She has a point," Ares says, his voice a low growl. "My father plays all sides until he sees a clear advantage. A formal request from the new Fae queen might be enough to push him in our favor."
“No,” Hawke bites out. “We’ll find another way.” He squeezes my hand. I meet his worried gaze and give him a nod of agreement. I won’t push if he feels this strongly. "The Knights will return to Earth with fresh supplies. And we'll find another way to deal with the divided kingdoms."
The meal continues with lighter discussion—stories from Earth that make even Wraith smile, questions about Earth customs that I find myself explaining. For a brief time, it almost feels normal, like friends gathering rather than warriors planning a desperate rebellion and potentially deadly mission.
Later, when we've retired to our chambers, Hawke pulls me against him, his arms wrapping around me from behind as we stand on our private balcony overlooking the sleeping city.
"You're brooding," he murmurs against my hair.
"I'm thinking," I correct, leaning back into his warmth. "There's a difference."
"Mmm." His lips brush my temple. "Thinking very loudly, then."
