My declaration to hijack Silas's plan hung in the silent air between me and Rhyian's holographic image. For a moment, his face was unreadable, a mask of stone. Then, a slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. It wasn't a smile of warmth, but of a predator recognizing another of its kind.
Less than ten minutes later, the elevator chimed. Rhyian strode into the suite, his presence immediately charging the atmosphere. Joric was a half-step behind him, his face a thundercloud of controlled fury. Rhyian had clearly given him a summary of my plan, and he was not pleased.
"The command center," Rhyian said, his tone all business. "Now."
We descended to the high-tech room, the elevator ride thick with Joric's silent, hostile disapproval. The moment the doors opened, he couldn't contain himself any longer.
"Sovereign, with all due respect, this is madness," Joric burst out, turning to face Rhyian. "You intend to sanction a plan conceived by an untrained civilian that places her at the epicenter of the danger? After what happened in the catacombs, she should be under lockdown, not used as the tip of the spear!"
"My decision is made, Captain," Rhyian said, his voice cold as ice. He gestured toward the central console. "However, Carys has agreed to brief you on the tactical details herself. I suggest you listen."
It was a deliberate power move, forcing Joric to face me not as a liability, but as the mission's architect. Joric's jaw tightened, but he turned to me, his arms crossed, his stance radiating disbelief.
"I'm listening."
I stepped forward, my nervousness evaporating under a wave of cold focus. This was my ground now. I activated the holographic display, calling up a detailed, three-dimensional blueprint of the Cinderfall Grand Museum.
"Silas's plan is built on a single, flawed assumption: that I am weak and stupid," I began, my voice steady and clear. "We are going to use that assumption to dismantle his entire operation. The gala is in two nights. I will arrive on your arm, Sovereign. This public display accomplishes two things. It infuriates Serafina, making her a more plausible suspect in Silas's frame-job. And it reinforces to Silas that you are 'blinded' by your affection for me, making you seem predictable."
I zoomed in on the third floor.
"The meeting is in the Hall of Antiquities. Joric, your team will not be in the hall. He'll be watching for that. You will place two-man teams here," I highlighted two adjacent, darkened exhibit halls, "'The Pre-Cinderfall Era,' and 'The Dynasty Tombs.' Both have alcoves and large artifacts that will provide cover, and clear lines of fire through the main archways. Your men will be invisible."
Joric stared at the map, his expression critical.
"Sightlines are acceptable, but reaction time is delayed."
"It won't be," I countered. "Because you won't move on my signal. You will move on the exchange. The second that relic box is in the Coven operative's hands, he is the priority target. Your team's sole mission is to neutralize and capture him. No one in, no one out. It has to be fast, silent, and absolute."
"My men are trained to eliminate Coven fanatics, not 'capture' them," Joric said stiffly. "They are notoriously difficult to take alive."
"Then find a way," I said, my voice like steel. "Drugged darts, containment nets, I don't care. I need him alive. He's our only link to Silas's full plan." I turned my attention to Rhyian's position on the map. "You will be here. The VIP mezzanine overlooking the main ballroom. Publicly visible. But this balcony," I traced a line on the map, "connects to a service corridor that leads directly to an observation window overlooking the Hall of Antiquities. You will be my overwatch. My failsafe. If Joric's team is compromised or something unforeseen happens, you intervene. But not one second before. You have to give the trap time to spring."
I finished, my heart pounding softly. I had laid out my strategy, a plan built on psychology and stealth rather than overwhelming force.
Joric was silent for a long time, his icy blue eyes tracing the lines of attack, the fields of fire, the escape routes. The arrogant disdain on his face had been replaced by the focused, analytical expression of a career soldier. He hated it. He hated that it came from me. But he couldn't find the flaw.
"The strategy... is viable," he finally conceded, the words tasting like acid in his mouth. "It relies heavily on the target behaving as predicted, but the tactical layout is sound."
It was the closest I would ever get to a compliment from him.
"He will behave as predicted," I said with confidence. "Because his arrogance is the most predictable thing about him."
Rhyian had been watching the entire exchange, a silent arbiter. He looked from his skeptical Captain to me, his partner-in-war. He saw the logic, the fire, the absolute conviction. He saw the Aethel strategist he had never known.
"Very well," Rhyian declared, his voice resonating with finality. "We proceed with Carys's plan." He turned to a stunned Joric. "You have your orders, Captain. Prepare your best team. I want ghosts, not soldiers. Brief them on a capture protocol. Failure is not an option."
Joric, defeated, gave a stiff, formal bow.
"As you command, Sovereign." He shot me one last, complicated look—a mixture of fury, disbelief, and a microscopic sliver of grudging respect—and marched out of the room.
The silence he left behind was charged. The war council was over.
"You were formidable," Rhyian said, his voice soft now, the commander replaced by the man.
"I was a 'civilian liability'," I reminded him, allowing a small, sharp smile.
"I stand corrected," he replied, and the corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile in his eyes. "It seems my court is in desperate need of a new tactician."
The professional intimacy of the moment was palpable. We had just planned a life-or-death military operation as a seamless unit. We were partners. Equals. And the shared danger, the intellectual connection, was creating a new, far more complicated tension between us than anger ever had. It was a tension that both terrified and thrilled me.