Elçin nods. "Of course. I only mention it because the timing seems... convenient. But you're right—one threat at a time."
I study her for a moment, noting the careful way she's filed away the information for later consideration. A warrior-diplomat who knows when to push and when to wait.
"Zoran, coordinate with the generals," I order. "I want our forces ready to move within the hour. Emir, secure the palace—no one enters or leaves without direct approval. Banu, work with Elçin on magical defenses for the marshes. We need every advantage we can get."
The others begin to disperse, but before they can reach the doors, a guard bursts in, breathless and wide-eyed.
"My lord," he gasps. "There's someone at the gates. A Light Court woman. She's demanding sanctuary."
The room goes still.
"Description," I say, my shadows coiling with sudden tension.
"Golden hair, my lord. White robes. She says—" The guard swallows hard. "She says she's Lady Solene. Lord Taren's daughter."
Nesilhan's face drains of what little color remained. "Solene?"
I'm already moving toward the door. "Bring her to the throne room. Under guard, but unharmed."
Solene standsin the center of the throne room with the composed stillness of someone who's been trained to wait. Her white robes are travel-stained, her golden hair pulled back in a practical braid rather than the elaborate style she wore in the pavilion. But her posture is perfect, her expression controlled.
This is not a woman who came here to fall apart.
When she sees Nesilhan, something flickers in her eyes—grief, guilt—but she masters it quickly. "Sister. Lord Kaan." She inclines her head with formal care. "I'm not here to beg forgiveness or weep over what can't be undone. I'm here because my father is a monster who murdered an unborn child, and I refuse to stand beside him while he wages war against the only family I have left."
"Pretty words," I say, shadows coiling at my feet. "But you'll forgive me if I'm skeptical about the timing."
"You should be." Solene meets my gaze without flinching—the look of someone who's stared down worse than me. "I was raised to be a weapon, Lord Kaan. Trained since childhood to serve the Light Court's interests. I know exactly how this looks." She reaches into her robes slowly, giving the guards time to react, and pulls out a leather satchel. "Which is why I brought something more useful than tears."
She tosses the satchel onto the table. Maps spill out, covered in detailed notations.
"My father's battle formations for the western assault. Troop numbers, supply lines, the positioning of his shadow-resistant mages." Her voice is clipped. "He's planning a three-pronged attack. The western push is a feint—he wants you to commit forces there while his elite squad moves through the eastern marshes to take Nesilhan."
Zoran moves to examine the maps, his expression sharpening. "These are current. Updated within the last day."
"I copied them before I left." Solene's jaw tightens. "I also know the command signals his mages use to coordinate. The weak points in their ward formations. And the fact that he's promised the Council he'll have Nesilhan back within the week, one way or another."
I study her—the rigid control, the careful distance she's maintaining from emotion. This is a woman who's made a decision and is executing it. I can respect that.
"Why?" Nesilhan's voice is quiet. "You could have stayed. Played the loyal daughter. Why risk everything to come here?"
Solene is silent for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is steady, but there's something raw beneath the composure. "Because he called your baby a 'complication.' Because he watched you tear yourself apart with guilt for months and said nothing. Because I spent my entire life believing he was protecting me, and now I know he was just keeping me as a spare." She looks at Nesilhan directly. "You were supposed to be the sacrifice. I was supposed to replace you. And when your child threatened to disrupt his plans, he had it killed without hesitation."
The room is utterly silent.
"I won't pretend I'm here out of pure sisterly love," Solene continues. "I barely know you. But I know what he is now. AndI'd rather die fighting beside strangers than live serving a man who murders children for political convenience."
I exchange a glance with Emir, who gives an almost imperceptible nod. The intelligence is genuine—he can tell.
"You'll have sanctuary," I say finally. "And if your information proves accurate, you'll have a place in this fight. But understand this—" My shadows surge forward, stopping just short of touching her. "If this is a deception, if you're here to sabotage us from within, I will make your father's cruelty look like kindness."
Solene doesn't flinch. "Understood."
"Good." I turn to the table, pulling the maps toward me. "Now show me exactly where these mages will be positioned. We have a trap to set."
An hour later,the war council has reconvened with Solene's intelligence spread across the table. What she's brought changes everything.
"Father's pulling his shadow-resistant mages from the northern mountain territories," Solene says, pointing to positions marked on her maps. "They're experienced fighters, but they've never operated in marsh terrain. They're trained for elevation advantages and rocky cover—the wetlands will disorient them."
