The Brotherhood settled onto the built-in stone seating, Serena and Elara joining them.
At the front of the chamber, King Tiberon took the central seat with Dex on his right and Hale and Gav on his left.
"We all heard our ancestors' message, channeled through the Draken Prime," Tiberon began.
Fantastic, Serena thought. I'm a magical loudspeaker for dead people.
The meeting went on. Serena listened as they dissected each line of what was said. Members in the back of the room spoke as much as members in the front. It was clear everyone here was highly valued and respected.
This is what a council meeting should feel like. Trust. Contribution.
"Five traitor packs among Skardos's twenty. Three remain loyal," King Tiberon stated. "Bloodmoon. Shadowclaw. Darkhowler."
Gavriel spoke for the first time. "I can arrange meetings with Darkhowler and Bloodmoon."
"I will speak with Aeron, the Shadowclaw mage," Hyran added. "Unless someone else has a more direct connection."
"We do, but we will not be able to attend. So that is the best strategy," Dex confirmed.
The meeting continued to Orosia and the coming ambush.
A flicker of something flashed on Serena's face. She and Elara exchanged a quick glance, both thinking it.
"Are we false in that assumption?" Hyran asked, catching the exchange.
Neither girl moved for a second.
"One of you, speak," he ordered bluntly.
Serena nodded. "Let me preface, this is my first day here…"
Everyone chuckled, breaking the tension.
"Yes, for two reasons. First, they saw their own dragons bow when they invaded Drakenfell. They'll have concluded that was because of either Dexmon or King Tiberon."
"King Tiberon is the one who called the War Summit. Logically, both will be in attendance. It would not be wise to deploy dragons that will bow to the enemy army commander, wouldn't you say?"
Hyran's lips twitched. "Yes, get to your point."
"They will use their dragons to invade Drakenfell tomorrow, assuming it's unprotected. When they realize how wrong they are, they'll send dragons to the War Summit. Likely deployed during the second wave of attacks as reinforcements."
Captain Halvek spoke from a few rows behind Serena. "Fair point. It would be wise to prepare for dragons at both battles. What is the second reason?"
Serena nodded once.
"Second, Orosia will initiate the assault in coordination with Umbrael. The High King's daughter of Umbrael married Orosia's prince seven years ago. He was just crowned High Emperor. Their forces were consolidated at the time of that union for expansion, and remain so today."
"Umbrael and Orosia are fae heavy, and their opening deployment will be Red Death, formally classified as Caustic Suppression Miasma. It is Dark Fae magic and fatal to both wolves and mages."
"Once Red Death disperses, they execute a staged withdrawal. A fae warfare tactic."
Elara inhaled, then spoke as well, deciding to hell with it. If Serena was going to say it, she would too.
"Orosian doctrine does not treat withdrawal as disengagement. It is a reset. Once pursuit is confirmed, Umbrael portal units deploy. They favor rear insertion and lateral collapse."
A voice cut in from the back of the chamber.
"Frostborne must start them young."
Chuckles rippled through the room.
Elara's lips twitched. "You have no idea."
"Umbrael and Orosia have stacked armies in the past. She is correct on that. For this level of invasion, the likelihood is high." Gaius, a mage-librarian, confirmed. "She is also correct regarding Red Death. In mage-dense kingdoms, its Umbrael's signature tactic."
King Tiberon inclined his head. "Noted. Countermeasures."
There was a buzz in the room. Hyran and Serena made eye contact.
"I have an idea, and so does Serena," Hyran stated, crossing his arms. "Serena first."
Serena nodded. "Red Death is usually released by arrow. Fae arrows are made from Red Sacred Oak. There's an enchantment that does not allow that wood to cross its threshold. So, theoretically, the arrows hit an invisible wall and drop mid-flight."
"When the arrow lands, and Red Death spreads, it will travel a maximum of twenty paces."
A voice cut in from the back of the chamber, one Serena recognized instantly.
"I know the spell she's referring to," Archibald said.
"Feasibility for the perimeter of Drakenfell and War Summit camp?" King Tiberon asked.
"A first-year mage could cast it," Archibald answered.
"Noted. We will cast that as a precautionary measure." King Tiberon didn't bother to hide that he was impressed. "Hyran, what is your countermeasure?"
"Serena's magic. Fabrication of a purification mechanism. If she can learn to propagate it, it could be extended across multiple units simultaneously."
King Tiberon looked to Hyran. "Feasibility."
Hyran inclined his head once. "Possible. Not simple."
His gaze shifted briefly to Serena. "Give her an hour."
A few chuckles followed.
The meeting continued. Serena and Elara listened silently.
"The riddle," King Tiberon said. "Serena, what intelligence do you have so far?"
Every head turned to her with deliberate focus.
Serena found her voice after a second. "The riddle is solved, and it is ready now."
The room stilled.
Hyran shook his head. "Of course it is."
"Gold bracelet cuffs, called Aureus Catenes," she explained. "When a bearer is brought to the edge of death, the cuffs will not allow it. Instead of dying, they are transported instantly to the rune."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
"Under the library fit the criteria we need. The rune is carved. It can be used an unlimited amount of times," she added.
Tiberon's eyes sharpened, first with surprise, then with something dangerously close to approval.
"Well done," he said after a moment.
"Thank you, Your Highness," Serena answered, not expecting that reaction. It wasn't difficult to do. It was pure luck that she read about it in that Draken-Vorah scroll.
The meeting wrapped shortly after. Members filed out in quiet clusters.
Dex remained seated, jaw tight, watching Serena as she spoke with Hyran.
He didn't like the idea of her being at a War Summit at all. Let alone at one without him. He didn't like the amount of weight put directly on her shoulders.
All of this felt wrong.
His wolf had been snarling, restless and furious under the surface all evening.
She was his. His to protect.
Every instinct screamed at him to refuse. To put his foot down and keep her here, safe, where she belonged.
But he couldn't.
And that was the worst part.
✦✦✦
Agnes waited for the corridors to empty after the crowning ceremony.
Then she moved into a room tucked behind the laundry in the east wing. A forgotten corner where nobody important ever ventured.
Agnes didn't knock.
She shoved the door open hard enough that it cracked against the wall. Cass stumbled back from her worktable, needle clattering to the floor.
"Your Highness." Her voice was high-pitched.
"Shut up."
Agnes scanned the room. Modest. Pathetic. A single candle guttering on the worktable. A child's drawing tacked to the wall.
Two stick figures holding hands. Mama and Mira scrawled beneath in a child's uneven letters.
Agnes crossed the room and ripped it off the wall.
"Your daughter," she said, studying the crude lines. "She's seven?"
Cass's face drained of color. "Yes, Your Highness."
"The combat suits you fitted for the Frostborne whore." Agnes didn't look up from the drawing.
"They're finished. I was going to deliver them tonight."
Agnes reached into her cloak and pulled out a small vial. She set it on the worktable. "Same as her training suits."
Cass stared at the vial, then at Agnes, then back at the vial.
"I can't." Her voice cracked. "She's been so kind to me. She thanked me for the alterations."
"She thanked you," Agnes repeated slowly.
She grabbed Cass by the throat and slammed her against the wall.
The seamstress gasped, hands flying up to claw at Agnes's grip. The drawing crumpled between them.
"She thanked you." Agnes's face was inches away, her breath hot against Cass's cheek. "How lovely. How kind."
She leaned in closer, her body pressing against Cass's, the weight of her presence suffocating.
She whispered in Cass's ear, "Do you understand the stakes here?"
Cass couldn't answer, windpipe crushed.
Agnes stepped back abruptly and held up the crumpled drawing. She withdrew a dagger from her cloak.
Cass's eyes went wide.
Agnes pressed the blade to the drawing and carved a slow, precise line through the smaller stick figure.
Through Mira.
She stood, holding the mutilated drawing up to the candlelight.
"You deliver the suits and you will forget this conversation ever happened."
She let the drawing flutter to the floor, landing face-up.
"If you warn her. If you tell anyone. If you even hesitate when she arrives."
Agnes moved toward the door, then paused. "I won't kill Mira quickly." She glanced back, and her eyes were flat. Dead. "I'll start with her fingers. Then her tongue. Then I'll send her back to you in pieces."
Agnes shut the door behind her, not looking back.
She was on her way back to her quarters when she saw them. Her eyes narrowed.
There, in the corridor ahead, Dexmon was carrying the Frostborne bitch.
She was hanging upside down over his shoulder.
He laughed warmly. "For someone who only moved a treasure chest two inches, you'd think you'd have more fight in you."
She huffed, which made Dex laugh harder.
Agnes pressed herself into an alcove and bit down on her own hand to keep from screaming. Blood welled against her teeth, but she didn't notice.
Not once had he laughed like that with her. She'd been groomed for this since she was born. And a nobody stole him doing absolutely nothing but existing.
Dex turned the corner and Agnes watched their shadows disappear.
She pulled her hand from her mouth. Teeth marks stood out livid against her skin, blood smearing her lips.
She didn't wipe it away.
Her smile stretched too wide, blood staining her teeth. Soon he won't remember her name. He won't remember her face. He won't remember that stupid laugh.
The crowning ceremony was over and they'd be falling asleep soon.
Now all she needed to do was wait.