Logan raises a mocking eyebrow. “You think I should rely on the king’s mercy, instead?”
His brother’s silence is answer enough. The king’s mercy has always been a lie. Our only choices are to die quick or die slow.
“What will it take to smuggle us out of the city?” Logan asks, his voice steady despite the tension radiating from him. “All of us. Together.”
“I know a smuggler,” Nikolai says carefully. “Reliable. Discreet. He can get you beyond the city walls, maybe even as far as the southern border.” He pauses, eyes fixed on Logan’s face. “But that’s not your only option.”
Logan stills, understanding blooming across his features. I glance between the brothers, confusion mounting. What am I missing?
“We’ll be ready to leave in a week,” Logan says abruptly, moving to stand.
Nikolai’s hand shoots out, gripping Logan’s wrist with surprising strength. “Wait.” His voice drops lower, urgent now. “You should know—if you chose a different path, you wouldn’t walk it alone.”
“Nikolai—”
“Why else would our father create this pretense of forgiveness? He fears you,” Nikolai insists, releasing Logan’s wrist but holding his gaze. “I would follow you. And I’m not the only one. We would only need to get you close enough to challenge the king before witnesses. Best him and you would be king.”
Logan scoffs. “Murder him, you mean.”
Open rebellion was never the plan, because if it failed then we would all be dead. Quietly supporting a resistance, perhaps providing intelligence to help it grow and gain strength, but Logan has never once said he would challenge the king directly.
And steady, diplomatic Nikolai, who has always been the voice of reason among Logan’s brothers. If he is suggesting that Logan challenge his father, how bad have things become at court?
“The king is dangerous,” Nikolai continues, confirming my suspicions. “And becoming more so every day. His plans for Omegas might be the most horrific thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Thane is dead,” Logan counters.
“Thane’s research will live longer than he ever could,” Nikolai replies gravely.
Pure curiosity drives the next question I ask. “How long have you been part of the resistance, Nikolai?”
Nikolai smiles, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. “I prefer to think of myself as a concerned citizen with useful connections.”
“Treason by any other name,” Logan mutters, but there’s no heat in his voice. Just weariness. “You realize what you’re suggesting? Civil war. Bloodshed. Brother against brother.”
“I realize what will happen if we do nothing,” Nikolai counters. “And more will follow you than you think. The king only consolidated power by making false promises, that henow feels driven to fulfill. New leadership has been desperately needed for a long time.”
The room falls silent save for the distant thump of footsteps from the floor above us. I watch Logan’s face, seeing the calculations running behind those golden eyes. He’s weighing options, counting costs, mapping strategies. The commander I followed into battle a dozen times, the tactician who never lost a campaign.
But this isn’t the Outlands. This isn’t a border skirmish or a rebellion in some distant province. This is the heart of Melilla, the throne itself. The stakes couldn’t be higher.
“And Maya? Cillian?” Logan asks finally. “What happens to them if I fail?”
“They’d be protected,” Nikolai assures him. “We have safe houses, loyal supporters in outlying parts of the kingdom. I will ensure their safety no matter what happens.
“Unless the king gets word of this before we’re ready and sends the full might of his forces to flush us out,” Logan corrects. “Then they die with me.”
“They might die anyway,” I say, no longer bothering with niceties. “The king’s guards are searching for us. We’re already living on borrowed time.”
Logan’s gaze snaps to mine, surprise and something else flashing across his features.
“You think I should do this,” he says, not quite a question.
I consider lying. It would be easier, safer, to tell him what he wants to hear. To fall back into the role of loyal shadow, the weapon that doesn’t question where it’s aimed.
But I’m tired of easy. Tired of safe. Tired of being a weapon rather than a man.
“I think you should consider all options,” I say carefully. “Including this one.”
