“You’ll understand in a moment,” she said.
Again, she shared a look with the Supreme Commander, and this time, Dimitrios wondered why they were together.
“You’re awfully quiet, Pateras,” Dimitrios noted as he cracked the Nicolean seal.
“I prefer to hold my words for now.”
Dimitrios unfolded the parchment. As usual, Antonis kept to the point. No greeting. No signature.
A letter arrived from Princess Alexandra. It was sent to every province lord in Perean.
I enclose a copy.
Make no mistake—this is not a plea. It is a challenge.
Prove them wrong.
Dimitrios met Rena’s calm stare before switching pages, eager to read how his cousin meant to ruin him after months of silence.
To: Noble Lords and Stewards of the Perean Provinces
From: Alexandra Vidalatos, firstborn daughter of the Crown, Rightful Sovereign of Perean
My Lords,
I write to you as the last living daughter of King Orestis Vidalatos, the final blood of our sovereign line. You have endured confusion, violence, and silence long enough. It is time the truth is spoken aloud.
Dimitrios Vidalatos has no rightful claim to Perean’s throne. His so-called legitimacy rests on whispers, not law. His decisions have drained our coffers, provoked war with our allies, and shattered the trade routes we once relied on to feed and protect our people.
The former King’s Council is dead. The army thinned. The treasury empty. The streets unsafe.
I offer peace where he promises only war. I offer stability, backed not by ambition but by strategy and the strength of Soterra, whose king—my mother’s elder brother—has pledged his support.
There is still time to avoid bloodshed. I ask only for your allegiance to the true crown and Perean’s future.
May the gods favor those who act before it is too late.
Alexandra
Dimitrios sat on his outdoor patio, Alexandra’s words twisting like a dagger in his back. He read them again. And again. Until the ink blurred, and he finally flung the pages aside.
“I don’t understand. Alexandra has been hidden away for months. Why now?”
Pateras shook his head, armor creaking. “This is Titos Demakis. I would stake my life on it.”
Rena’s spine lengthened at the commander’s side. “He uses the princess as a shield, then?”
“He uses her as a key to unlock our doors.” Pateras met Dimitrios’s eyes. “His armies approach our borders at their weakest points—they’ll be here in a matter of days. More than we can fend off if our people turn against you.”
“But our armies are ready—” Dimitrios began.
“Our armies haven’t had a king for the better part of a year,” Pateras interjected. “With little left in the coffers, have you wondered how we’re paying them? Feeding them? I’ve done what I can with what little there is.
“Demakis marching on us now”—the older man shook his head—“it’s no coincidence.”
Dimitrios rose and stepped up to the balcony. His city still sparkled—the bay glittering, temple smoke rising, harbors alive. But for how long?
“Titos intends to overthrow the capital,” Dimitrios said. “Using Alexandra as a figurehead to keep the people quiet. That was his plan all along.”
