More gasps. Shocked faces. Someone actually stumbled backward. A few hands went to sword hilts instinctively before their owners realized the absurdity of drawing weapons in the throne room.
Mal explained everything with methodical precision. The tracking spell to find Tyreen. Finding her in Noctherion woods. The plan to contact Gregyor through the message portal. The stealth mission that had gone spectacularly wrong when we walked straight into a trap. King Igrid’s death at his own son’s hand in this very throne room.
By the end of his recounting, the hall was silent again, but this time with rapt attention rather than shock. Every eye was fixed on either Mal or Gregyor, trying to process this information.
King Valerius Crescentborn of Valoryn said slowly, “You took down a king in days. From first contact to execution.”
I nodded toward Tyreen, who stood with Casimya near the side of the room. “We had help. Exceptional help.”
Tyreen inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the recognition.
Mal continued, his tone formal now, official. “Prince Gregyor will be crowned King in a few days, and he wishes to join our alliance. To ensure lasting peace between our kingdoms. To end the hostilities that have plagued us for too long. We propose a vote.”
I’d expected debate. Arguments. Lengthy discussions about the wisdom of trusting a former enemy. But the vote was surprisingly swift.
One by one, the kingdoms agreed. Valerius Crescentborn voted yes first, firm and decisive. Mortimer Goldridge from Duskmere followed immediately. Aurion lifted his hand as if he was in a damn classroom and said his vote was positive. Even the more skeptical rulers like Kazimir Briarfield from Moonhaven or Kane Aurelius from Ebonvale seemed swayed by Gregyor’s story, by the image of a son who chose his people over his father, who killed his own blood to end suffering.
It was nearly unanimous when King Xander Silvermane of Wynter raised his hand, his expression troubled.
“What about the portals?” he asked.
My hands clenched at my sides before I could stop them.
Mal’s eyebrows rose slightly. “What about them?” he asked carefully.
Silvermane gestured vaguely, his concern evident. “They keep opening. Random locations across all our kingdoms. Some stable, some not. What is causing them? Are we under attack? Is this some residual effect of the war?”
Everyone in the room turned to me. Of course they did. I was the portal caster. I was supposed to have answers.
I straightened my spine and met his gaze directly. “I don’t know.”
Silvermane’s eyes sharpened. “You are the portal caster. Surely you must know something.”
“I’mAportal caster,” I corrected, keeping my voice steady. “But I don’t control every portal that opens. I don’t even feel when they open unless I’m actively searching for them. I’m as confused as you are about these random occurrences.”
“That is not a reassuring answer, Your Majesty,” Silvermane said, his tone pointed.
“It’s the only answer I have,” I replied. “I wish I could tell you more. I wish I understood what was happening. But I don’t. My power is too new, and I still have a long way to go to master it and learn everything I can about it. Lying to you would serve no purpose.”
The assembled rulers weren’t happy with that response. Unease flickered across faces, worried glances exchanged between nobles. The truth was, I had no idea what was happening with the rogue portals. It kept me up at night wondering if I was somehow causing them unconsciously, if my training with Tyreen had destabilized something, if there was some larger threat we weren’t seeing.
But I couldn’t give them answers I didn’t have. And I wasn’t about to invent some to make them feel better.
Mal stepped in smoothly, his voice firm and authoritative. “We will investigate the portal phenomenon. But for now, we have more immediate concerns to address.” He paused for effect. “We are throwing a banquet to celebrate the new alliance. Tonight.”
Aurion, standing off to the side, groaned audibly. “Another banquet? The last one ended in absolute chaos.”
“This one will not,” Mal said confidently. “It will be peaceful. Boring, even.”
I couldn’t help myself. I muttered under my breath, “I will believe that when I see it.”
Mal shot me a look that was half amusement, half warning. I smiled innocently. He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all me.
The meeting concluded with the formal acceptance of Igryside into the alliance. Documents would be drawn up, treaties signed, but the hard part was done. Gregyor had allies now. Protection. A chance to rebuild his kingdom without the specter of his father’s madness hanging over everything.
As people began to file out of the throne room, voices rising in excited chatter about this dramatic turn of events, Mal pulled me aside into one of the alcoves along the wall.
“Killian asked to stay on Earth for the banquet,” he said without preamble. “With his aunties.”
