Skeela glances at me.
Before I speak, I swallow fire. “You need stability. You need legitimacy. You need us. We can’t break this peace again—no burnt bridges. But if you can’t take them down by force, take it by trust.”
It’s a pledge for her. A promise for us. She studies my face, then Kragna’s.
A flicker: relief. Hope. Fear.
“Then let’s begin,” she says.
Tensions ripple around the room—elves hissing, humans stiffly nodding, Rizzo folding arms. The truce trembles like a candle flame.
I feel the press of Kragna’s thumb against mine—a touch anchored in the storm.
Outside, the city breathes in a brittle lull. Birdsong is drowned under stone and sorrow, but I sense the roots of something green starting to stir.
We’ve won a battle. But this—this is the delicate lull before peace blooms or fractures.
I let myself believe it can.
Kragna squeezes my hand.
And for once, I don’t need to talk.
The truce can crack the world, but at least tonight—tonight—we stand unbroken.
I sitin a dim council chamber that smells of damp silk and tighter expectations than any battlefield ever held. The walls are draped in checkered banners—half human red, half elf silver—tattered but defiantly present. Elven and human faces surround the table, sharp with calculation. Diplomacy tastes like cold wine and sharpened knives hidden just beneath the rims of their goblets.
Across from me, Rizzo stands pressed into the elbow of the chamber. He’s flanked by stern Rangers in dented armor—these are my people, restless and rigid in civvies, unused to sitting still. Their hands twitch toward weapons even when none’s drawn; they look out of place here in velvet and scrolls. Their eyes trail the dark elves who commune behind rotted columns—grim features that don’t forget battles easily.
I look at Kragna, still fragile from his wounds, seated one chair away. His eyes are dark mirrors. He’s learned to speak the languages of diplomacy, but his claws curl under the table, stilled only by diet—and fear of what they can do in touch.
Skeela presides at the head, her mantle still too heavy for her narrow shoulders. She keeps her face as velvet as the banners, but every corner curls with worry. These talks are the first of many that will define whether a fragile peace cracks—or becomes brittle beyond repair.
The first envoy begins. An elf with eyebrows carved from disdain, voice soft as glass shards. “Rizzo’s mere presence heredefiles our halls.” There’s cold music behind her words—cold without death, yet worse.
A hum rises. Some men at the table shift forward. The Rangers tighten their grips on their chairs.
I taste thunder.
I lean in. “He’s not a ransom. He’s a signal.”
The room tilts. Silence splinters.
Skeela’s gaze slides to me. I meet it. She exhales. “Let us begin,” she says. Then invites the elven minister to speak on trade reprieves.
They talk rules about export routes, tribute, rebuilding market guilds torn by war. My ears run riot with new words—“sovereignty,” “exempt cities,” “peace guards,” “spy network oversight”—heavy words stitched into promises.
Every time I try to sip air, I taste fear beneath the smoke. Every hammered phrase between the elves and Rizzo’s edicts is cutting into the peace we bled for. I see teeth show—thin cuts, between the fold of polite speeches. I know this going in, but still: watching friendly fire dressed in velvet makes my blood skittish.
The half-human half-elven guard ring around us shifts, armored fists brushing tables, eyes hooded with mistrust. Their boots tap silk. I keep my voice quiet, sliding garbled under glass.
“Protocols mean nothing if the city burns again.”
Kragna’s voice surprises me low beside me. He looks at me for a moment, unsure. Then continues: “We won’t let it.”
I nod. I believe him, even though our scars still stink.
The next envoy stands—a human noble who survived the slag columns, the siege bunkers. His voice is gravel. “We know House Laertiez is new. We know her strength is your strength. But loyalty... we’re not sure. You can’t blame a city for seeing a royal reborn and wondering whose throat will taste the last drop of blood.”
