The Flameborn Court never slept.
Not truly.
Even now, as morning's gold light streamed through its jagged glass towers and war banners fluttered on fire-kissed wind, silence reigned only on the surface. Beneath it pulsed whispers. Footsteps. Lies.
Elara stood at the top of the Phoenix Spire with Kael and Selene flanking her, while Riven lay resting under heavy guard, his wounds still weeping from his journey back. The information he'd brought twisted through her like thorns. A traitor in her court. Someone who had smiled at her. Dined beside her. Sworn oaths of loyalty to her throne.
And Voryn's words, spoken through the mouth of Ashkar, echoed still: She's already lost.
No.
She would not let him turn her court into a battlefield of betrayal. She would root out the traitor—even if it meant looking into the eyes of friends and seeing the blade in their hands.
"We begin the purge today," Elara said.
Kael's jaw clenched. "You're certain it's someone from inside?"
