Alora nodded, ignoring the tightening in her stomach. Then she must be far away from Argyle, but close enough to defend it.
“Here.” She pointed to the Hydell Hills. “The ridge gives us the high ground and summits the everglades. We will lure him there.”
It was free of any population, at the center of the kingdom, between the mountain, the Midlands, and Argyle. The perfect place for their destructive forces to clash.
If Vorak wanted her, then she would decide where he would bleed.
“No matter how we look at it, this battle will cost us,” Lady Nexia said, twisting a necklace of pearls around a clawed finger.
“It would cost more to tuck tail and run,” Lady Morvenna said teasingly and pinched Nexia’s siren’s tail.
Nexia hissed, bearing her translucent sharp teeth.
“You waste your breath,” Balgor slobbered through a mouthful of food. “Vorak is Primordial. ATitan. To march against him is folly, though none of you care to hear what I have to say.”
“When do you ever have much to say?” Ira snorted. “Most of the time your mouth is brimming with fodder.”
Tapping a claw on the tabletop pensively, Sal’vathar leaned back in his chair. His long hair gleamed like threads of white silk, his carapace armor catching the torchlight with an iridescent sheen. She tried not to stare at his spidery limbs. It unnerved her the way they twitched at his back, lightly clicking against the wall and floor.
“Now, let us be civil, Ira,” he said smoothly. “Balgor is as seasoned on the field as you are, even if his court prefers to dismember and swallow their enemies.”
Alora winced.
She still clearly remembered when the demons sided with them during the siege against Calveron on the shorefront and it had been gruesome.
Sal’vathar’s eyes, as black as oil, landed on her with quiet amusement. “My queen, what news do you bring us from Argyle?”
She lifted her chin. “The humans will fight. The armory grows fuller by the day.”
“Ah.” He linked his hands together, playing with a few spiderweb strands. “Brave souls, if not unfortunate.”
“You don’t think we will win?”
“Perhaps if we had a miracle, my queen, I may deign to hope.” Sal’vathar smiled with faint indulgence as he slipped web bracelets fashioned into chains around Nexia’s wrists.
They glittered like silver silk, and she squealed happily.
“But some things,” he added mildly, “require a delicate hand.”
Rune’s presence pulled the air around him, shadows coiling lazily around his claws. “Those who rely on miracles rarely live long enough to see them.”
Sal’vathar conceded with a slight bow of his head.
Sighing, Alora’s gaze drifted to the end of the table, where Segrith’s small form sat in silence. She looked like a phantom, a black veil over her face, wrapped in a black shroud. Though sightless, she seemed to be looking right at Alora. The touch of that phantom gaze sent a crawl down her spine.
“Lady Segrith,” Alora called. “Do you have any council to offer?”
Deimos had belonged to her court once. They shared that quiet demeanor that never rushed. He enjoyed lingering in the dark, circling, measuring, deciding when the moment was ripe to strike. If the Sloth demons were anything like him, they werenot slow at all. They were deliberate. And once they moved, it was because the outcome was already decided.
Segrith paused. Her hands settled on the table, palms up. The center of both were scarred hollows, reminding Alora of how they were lost.
Lady Morvenna cackled. “She can no longer see the future, my queen. What value does her council hold now?”
The dismissive tone made Alora’s jaw clench.
“If this way is merely a matter of pride, then bend the knee and spare what remains,” Segrith said plainly.
The chamber quieted, everyone falling still as they looked to Rune. The fervor of his anger coiled through the bond.
