Maris stood at the head of the war table, her face illuminated by flickering torchlight. Her braids were half-loosed, her armor undone at the collar a silver chain peaked, as if she hadn’t had time or didn’t care, to compose herself fully.
He felt the shift in the room.
Felt Kael watching.
He hadn’t said a word. But the way the Night King’s silver gaze clung to Maris’s every movement was unmistakable.
The others trickled in. Thauren, Zairon, Riven, Corin, Serenya, Valea, Draeven, a half-dozen high-ranking fae and vampire generals, and a smattering of mortal commanders from their southern reaches.
Tension snapped like kindling in the hearth.
Zairon unrolled the updated map, the new markers inked hastily in red.
“Two more attacks in the last twelve hours,” he said grimly. “One at the southern edge of Calanthe's borderlands, the other on the cliffs of northern Nythra. Coordinated. Strategic. They weren’t random surges.”
“They’re moving in formations, pushing us from both sides” Riven added, arms folded across his chest. “Not rabid. Not wild. Trained.”
Maris’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the murmuring. “She has generals.” She guessed
The words silenced the room.
Kael didn’t look at her.
Alarik didn’t look away.
“We don’t know what they are,” Thauren said. “But they’re intelligent and drawing blood than I care to spare.”
“They’re not revealing themselves yet,” Serenya added. “They’re holding back. Waiting.”
“For the main event,” Alarik murmured.
Maris braced her hands on the table’s edge. “We’ll face them in the morning.”
No one spoke for a long moment.
Kael shifted in his seat. “If Eiren has placed her pieces, then we place ours.”
No inflection. No question. Just command.
A different time, a different night, he'd challenge Alarik for what had passed with Maris. Might’ve raged. Demanded answers. But not now. Not with war at the gates. There was no room for jealousy.
Only survival.
He met Alarik’s eyes across the table.
A breathless beat passed.
Then he nodded.
For now, they stood on the same side.
Zairon moved into action, pointing to marked points on the map. “The enemy will strike here, here, and here, we’ll bottleneck them with the Nythran guard, while Virellian archers line the ridge above. Calanthe’s flamecasters will hold the lower trenches.”
“And the sword, Veil Breaker?” asked one of the fae captains.
Maris stepped forward, voice clear. “It’s ready.”
“Can it kill her?” someone whispered.
