The tension in the air thickens. The council can feel Kael’s rigidity and severity—no one argues.
But it’s Ronyn—of course—that slices through the tension like a blade through butter.
“I do love a journey with unknown adventures, cryptic clues, and the high chance of death or debilitating injuries. When do we leave?” he asks, an expression of sincerity on his face.
Thank the fucking Stars for Ronyn.
But Kael’s not done.
Because the problems may be clear to the war council, but they need to be aligned on the only outcome he’ll tolerate.
“And council? There is one objective: get Elyssara back on her throne at any and all costs.” His voice comes out as a low, unwavering command. “Every action we take gets her closer to the throne, understood?”
Around the war room, the others nod without question. But it’s the warm trickle down the tether, like a slow, seductive drip of honey, that owns him.
Gratitude. Pride.And something stronger, all-consuming: love.
He hates himself for it. Hates himself for feeling anything but devastating grief. But here he is again, loving her. Like loving her now is a betrayal of the one he just lost.
And just as the walls encasing his mind begin to fall away, a small, hollow wisp of darkness ghosts his veins, riding in tandem with honey-sweet love. Canceling it out, counteracting it, commanding it. As if the fragment of Decay seeks out anything good and true, and molds it into something…other.
Rubi snorts, cutting through Kael’s thoughts. “Don’t forget we have to deal with the threvenar poisoning. You know, the whole ‘no one knows Elyssara and her family exists’ thing? I still have my threvenar experiments awaiting me in Nymeris.”
Fuck.
Threvenar.
Make that four problems.
He stacks them, one after the other. Like they won’t crush him if he keeps moving.
“Then we leave for Nymeris immediately,” Elyssara commands clearly, no question in her tone. The Heart of Zerynthia. The soul of Dravara.
But before Kael can agree, Elyssara pushes from her chair, the legs scraping harshly across the polished onyx floor. Her head snaps to the windows.She can hear something.
Confusion settles across the room.
She prowls to the window in the way of a warrior—smooth, focused, primed. She tilts her head at a curious angle—listening, waiting.
Her hands drift to the sill, confusion etched into her every movement.
Kael meets Seren’s gaze, but she only stares quizzically back at him.
“Does anyone else hear that?” she breathes, words almost indistinguishable.
The council members swap glances.
“And you all thinkIhave too much to drink,” Rubi scoffs, downing more ale laced with brask.
Teddy huffs. “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath.
But Kael follows Elyssara. He presses his hand to the small of her back in assurance. “El? What do you hear?”
Kael snaps his gaze back to Seren.
Surely she can hear this, too.
Seren only shakes her head, brows pinched.
