“Your prophetess is missing,” Astrid observes.
“Someone mentioned she’s in the Neptune wing’s meditation pools,” a nearby Venus aide offers, clearly eavesdropping. “She doesn’t eat with the rest of us often.”
Astrid and I find an empty table near the edge of the hall. Not isolated, but not in the centre of attention either. A server approaches, offering the evening’s selections. I choose some roasted vegetables and grain, nothing that will make my already sensitive stomach worse.
“Look at them,” Astrid says quietly once the server leaves. She’s watching my team with clinical assessment. “They’re not just divided. They’re actively avoiding each other.”
She’s right. Lord Castor hasn’t even glanced toward Lord Evander. Lord Evander seems unaware anyone else exists. And Lady Nerida might as well be on a different planet.
“Now watch his team,” Astrid continues, nodding toward Zevran’s table.
I follow her gaze. Lady Tavia is explaining something, using her hands to sketch out what looks like communication pathways. Commander Kaelix leans forward, adding technical details. Isolde listens, then offers a strategic observation that makes both of them nod. Zevran orchestrates it all with subtle guidance – a question here, a redirect there, keeping the conversation flowing and productive.
“They’re already strategizing,” I say.
“And your team is scattered across the hall getting drunk, reading, and meditating in another wing entirely.” Astrid’s tone isn’t unkind, just factual. “That’s your challenge – somehow, some way, you need to bring your team together.”
The food arrives. I try to eat, but my hands shake slightly when I reach for the fork, exhaustion and stress making simple tasks harder. I manage a few bites before the nausea builds again.
I reach for my water glass and nearly knock it over.
Two hands move simultaneously – Ren stepping forward from herposition near the wall, Astrid’s fingers already closing around the stem. Their eyes meet and for a heartbeat, neither moves.
Then Astrid steadies the glass while Ren pushes it closer to my reach, the movement coordinated without a word passing between them.
Astrid nods once. Ren returns it before stepping back to her post.
I take the water glass, hands still shaking slightly. Something has shifted between them – a mutual respect, maybe, as they realize they’re both watching over me now.
I drink the water slowly, letting it settle the nausea. Across the hall, Lord Castor raises his glass in mock salute when he catches me looking. His grin almost looks like a challenge. I hold his gaze for a moment, then deliberately look away.
Not worth engaging. Not here, not in front of his aides.
A server approaches our table, setting down a bowl of plain bread and mild broth I didn’t order.
“Compliments of Lady Tavia,” the server says before moving on.
I look across the hall. Lady Tavia catches my eye and gives a small nod, aware of how sickly I look. Her quiet support is much appreciated.
The broth is warm and settling. I manage several spoonfuls before the nausea forces me to stop. But it’s something.
Around us, the dining hall continues its rhythm. Conversations rise and fall, delegates move between tables, forming temporary alliances and testing boundaries. It’s a social battlefield, every interaction weighted with political implication.
I catch more whispers:
“...Sun King’s daughter can’t even control her own team...”
“...give her time. She’s barely been here two weeks...”
“...doesn’t matter. The maze will eat them alive if they’re not unified...”
The weight of expectation presses down from all sides. Everyone watching to see if I’ll succeed or fail. If I’m my father’s daughter in more than just blood.
“You can’t approach them here,” Astrid says, pulling my attentionback. “Lord Castor’s performing for his aides. Lord Evander won’t engage in a social setting. Lady Nerida’s not even present.”
I pause, gathering my thoughts. “What if tomorrow, I approach each of them? One-on-one meetings. Private spaces where they’re not playing to an audience.”
Astrid nods enthusiastically as I continue. “Lord Castor first – he’s the biggest threat to my authority.”
