A humorless laugh rips from Elyssara’s throat without warning. “If you think she’ll honor that then you really are a fool, High Witch. And if you think you hunger for a life of peace and not one of adventure, you’re daft as well. I knew you were an asshole, but I never took you for an imbecile.”
Lara’s face remains neutral.
But Seren’s voice breaks through the tense silence. “You want the witches to have a home. Safety. You want to give the witches what your mother was unable to giveyou.”
Lara scoffs. “Too many years with humans has made you sentimental, Seren. I want access to riches and resources without the threat of being burned alive every heartbeat. Don’t mistake my motivations for morality.”
Seren’s shoulders fall as she exhales. “Fine. Go to Ilyra. But when I see you on the battlefield, I won’t hesitate,” she snarls, raising her palm and showing the High Witch the noose etched into her skin.
Lara smirks at that. “I would expect nothing less.” And she raises her palm in return, revealing the pile of bones.
Seren nods curtly, her eyes filled with emotion she’ll never admit.
Fuck.
This is the part of the plan that cannot afford to go wrong. Elyssara spins to the rest of the group, fire in her eyes and magicin her veins. They stare back at her. But they are not the faces of warriors, they are the faces of people who know they’re facing a war they cannot win.
Not without the witches.
Not without the dragons.
So she knows what she has to do: become the Queen of Dravara and lead them.
“We visit Thalmyr, secure his army, find Nyrielle’s weaknesses, and use the castle as a stronghold. We let The Barrier fall. And we bring the war to us—force them to face us on our terms,” she commands, dragging her gaze across her allies.
The words don’t sound like a suggestion. They sound like inevitability.
Vren scoffs, dragging his hand down his face. “And how do you propose we do that? What would lure them tous?”
Elyssara raises her palm, light blooming there. “Me. My power threatens their dominion. They believe in the prophecy more than anything. They’ll want to eliminate threats. And…” she trails off, searching the space for Marin.
“You need to encourage Maireth to move on us. Tell her The Barrier is down, and it’s time to strike,” Elyssara commands, but underneath the power in her voice, doubt stirs. “There’s no way we can beat their defenses if we go to them, and they won’t be expecting us to have the Starborn army.”
Not that she’s secured the Starborn army yet.
Marin nods, taking the orders without pushing back.
Elyssara spins again, settling back on Lara. “Will you encourage Nyrielle to strike on Virellin? Would you do that if nothing else? Consider it an assignment.”
Lara stares her down. “And in return?”
Of course.
“Safety from being hunted by the Dravari Monarchy. Safety in our kingdom when I take the throne,” Elyssara says, making all of this up as she goes.
Lara mulls it over. “And if you’re not alive to take the throne?”
Vren curses under his breath—something about putting faith in the witches being futile.
And maybe something about them being cunts.
“Then the world is Nyrielle’s and all bets are off. Enjoy your safety in Nymeris if that ever comes to pass,” Elyssara answers, tilting her chin up.
Lara shrugs one shoulder. “Fine.”
The words come out easy, simple—like she’s not altering the Known Realms with a single decision.
“One more thing,” Lara drawls.
