That man is back.
And the lords are about to remember why they bent the knee in the first place.
My shadows coil around me like armor. Like weapons.
Like the tools of someone who's done losing.
The war council tomorrow will be interesting. Half the lords probably think I'm dead. The other half wish I were.
Walking in alive and angry should make for excellent entertainment.
I allow myself a smile—the first genuine one in what feels like years.
Yes. This is going to be fun.
CHAPTER 31
THE OTHER HEIR
Nesilhan
Three days have passedsince we returned from the Forgotten Grove to find our world in ruins. The only good that has come from it is that my ability to lie has continued to return over the passing days.
Three days of war councils, logistics meetings, and watching Kaan remind his remaining faction lords exactly why they should fear him. The gathering two nights ago was everything I expected—Lord Riza's barely concealed ambition, Lady Asena's predatory assessment, the careful dance of loyalty and self-preservation that defines Shadow Court politics. Kaan handled it masterfully, all dark humor and casual threats, the Shadow Lord they remembered emerging from whatever grief had softened him.
But through it all, one question has haunted me: the Twilight Heir.
The rumors Zoran shared that first night have been circling my mind like vultures. A young man, they said. Around my age. Wielding both light and shadow magic. I told Kaan mysuspicion, that it might be my sister. He listened. He didn't dismiss me. But we agreed to wait for more intelligence before drawing conclusions.
Now, sitting in the war council chamber with steam rising from my untouched tea, I have a terrible feeling that the waiting is over.
The war council chamber feels too small for the weight of what we're about to discuss. It's one of the few rooms in the palace that survived the devastation intact—half the structure lies in ruins, but this chamber endured, as if the ancient magic woven into its stones knew we would need it for this moment.
I sit at the table, watching the others file in—Kaan taking his place at the head, Yasar settling beside me, Elçin positioning herself where she can see all exits, and Emir entering with scrolls tucked under his arm looking marginally less like death than he did three days ago. At least the healers finally tended to his broken arm; he moves without the careful stiffness that marked his injury when we first arrived.
The tea tastes like ash in my mouth. Everything tastes like ash lately. Ever since we returned from the Forgotten Grove to find our world crumbling, I've felt disconnected from simple pleasures. Food, warmth, comfort—they all feel empty when measured against the weight of what we've lost. What we failed to protect while we were gone.
Zoran arrives last, and something about his expression makes my stomach clench. He carries himself like a man bearing news that will shatter worlds. The expression he wears is one I've only seen a handful of times—gentle but implacable, as if he's steeling himself to deliver a blow that will change everything.
My heart begins to pound. Whatever he's learned about the Twilight Heir, it's not good.
"We have updates on multiple fronts," Kaan begins without preamble. "Emir, start with the Fae."
"Our scouts have spotted the Fae army marching toward our borders," Emir says. "They should arrive within the week. Queen Morwenna appears to be honoring her bargain, twenty thousand warriors, as promised."
A ripple of cautious relief moves through the room. Twenty thousand Fae warriors won't tip the scales entirely, but it's something. More than we had three days ago.
"That's the good news," Kaan says flatly. "Now for the rest. Zoran?"
Zoran's jaw tightens. "My spies brought intelligence that changes everything."
He spreads a map across the table, marking positions with swift, precise movements. "Lord Taren isn't sending armies anymore. He's coming personally. The entire Light Court military machine, every legion, every battlemage, every creature bound to their service. The largest force they've assembled in five centuries."
My blood goes cold. "How large?"
"Conservative estimates put it at over two hundred thousand soldiers. Elite forces, all of them. They'll be here within the week."
The silence that follows is deafening. Two hundred thousand. We have perhaps thirty thousand remaining after the losses we suffered while trapped in the Veil. Even with the Fae, assuming they actually fight alongside us instead of pursuing their own agenda, we're outnumbered four to one.
