Then he looks at me. “And besides… Queen Heir, we both know you want to return to Veynar. Revenge is overdue.”
I glance at Colsar. His hand finds mine, steady and certain. Whatever I choose, he is already with me.
Uralish's attention shifts between us. "I require something from both of you."
Colsar's expression hardens. "What?”
"Blood."
Colsar does not move. I reach for his hand. "I trust him," I say quietly.
He looks at me, then nods once.
Uralish does not waste time. A thin blade appears, two shallow cuts drawn, our hands pressed together briefly before he releases them.
He draws his thumb through the blood where it gathers, marking something unseen, then steps back.
“That will do,” he says.
I exhale slowly. “So we escape Alarna,” I say. “We go to Shalvar…”
“And then,” Uralish finishes, “you march on Veynar.”
He pauses.
“With an army at your back. Just in case.”
The Umbrelai
AXAR
Korakar, Morrath
Morrath did not appear on most maps. It lay beyond the Blind Gate, spoken of rarely and never without reason. Each province ruled by its own king or queen. Its gates opened only for feeders.
Axar, King of Korakar, was tired.
Disputes since morning. Territories. Pit allocations. Now the Slurvini again. Their queen Selana stood before him accusing his farmers of breaching her territory. Selana had only recently come into power and no one had educated her on Korakar's allies. The Umbrelai lived below the surface, their princess easily offended, their whisperers everywhere. They were not something anyone wished to provoke.
"Your farmers must be punished. I want to see their bodies hanging by nightfall. Do not be a bastard, Axar," Selana sneered.
A small, high-pitched voice cut through the hall before he could respond. “The only bastard in this room is you, Selana. The great pretender of the Slurvini.”
The room shifted. Every head turned, searching for the body that matched the voice and finding nothing.
Then the cold came. Shadows thickened and pressed inward until the Korakar sigils overhead began to dim. A seam of orange split the floor to ceiling. The shadows peeled open like something that had been waiting for permission.
A small figure stepped through as though the world had simply been slow to acknowledge her.
The princess of Umbrelai.
Her hair was a storm of indigo and deep red, wild and whipping around her face. The blindfold across her eyes pulsed with the same colors, breathing with the rhythm of the Umbrelai itself. She crossed her arms, lifted her chin, and pouted. Then she extended one small finger and pointed it directly at the Slurvini in the room.
They reacted immediately. Bones twisted beneath skin, second faces forming as several moved toward her. Axar concealed his amusement. They had no idea what they were walking toward.
They never reached her. The floor cracked open and nine Umbrelai sentinels surged upward. Flag landed first, driving into a kneel hard enough to splinter the ground. Three heads swiveled. One found Axar's eyes and held them. They had fought beside each other once. There was no bad blood.
“Who dares move against Her Highness?”
