"So you decided to show them otherwise."
"I decided to make them too afraid to test us anymore." Ivah's eyes gleam in the lamplight. "Nothing stops aggression quite like the knowledge that retaliation will be swift and absolute."
Bellamy nods slowly, beginning to understand. "You became the monster to protect your people from other monsters."
"Something like that." Ivah studies Bellamy's face with keen interest. "Most princes wouldn't understand that kind of choice."
"Most princes haven't had to make impossible decisions yet."
"Haven't they?" Ivah tilts his head, and suddenly Bellamy feels like he's being examined by those dark eyes with uncomfortable intensity. "Tell me, little prince—how are your negotiations with the Northern Kingdom progressing?"
The question stops Bellamy cold, his breath catching in his throat. The Northern Kingdom situation is supposed to be a closely guarded secret, discussed only in the highest levels of court. "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" Ivah's smile is sharp. "King Kent has been making increasingly aggressive demands about your southern trade routes. He wants access to your ports, your merchant networks, preferential treatment for Northern goods. And when your mother politely refuses, he sends raiders to 'test your defenses,' just like he does to us."
Bellamy's mouth goes dry. Everything Ivah has said is accurate—disturbingly so. "How could you possibly know that?"
"Because I make it my business to know what threatens my borders. And a weakened Mirn caught between hammer and anvil would be very bad for Everitt's security."
"Weakened?" Bellamy's voice rises slightly before he catches himself and lowers it again. "Mirn isn't weak."
"Mirn is strong but spread thin. You're trying to protect too much territory with too few soldiers, and your nobles are more interested in comfort than conflict." Ivah's analysis is delivered with clinicalprecision. "King Kent knows this. He's counting on it. What are you planning to do about it?”
"I'm not going to do anything. I'm not the ruler of Mirn."
"Aren't you?" Ivah leans forward, chains clinking. "From what I hear, Queen Amelli may wear the crown, but her son has considerable influence over policy. Especially military policy."
Bellamy feels heat rise in his cheeks. It's true—his mother values his input more than she probably should, and the council has grown accustomed to looking to him for guidance on matters of defense and strategy. But hearing it stated so baldly by an enemy makes him uncomfortable.
"My mother is the rightful sovereign. That day is still a long way off."
"Is it?" Ivah's voice drops to that intimate whisper again. "How many council meetings have you attended this week? How many reports have crossed your desk? How many decisions have been made with your input rather than your mother's direct command?"
The accuracy of the observation is unnerving. Bellamy has been involved in every major decision since his return from the battlefield, has felt the weight of responsibility settling more heavily on his shoulders with each passing day.
"That's different," he says, but the words lack conviction.
"Is it? Or is it simply that you've been preparing to rule longer than you realize?" Ivah's eyes never leave Bellamy's face. "The real question is—what kind of king will you be when the crown is officially yours?"
"I told you, that's a long way—"
"What will you do about King Kent?" Ivah interrupts smoothly. "Will you give him what he wants to avoid conflict? Will you try to negotiate a middle ground that satisfies no one? Or will you make the hard choice to show strength even if it means war?"
Bellamy opens his mouth to protest that he doesn't have to make those decisions, that his mother will handle the Northern Kingdom situation, that he's just a prince who follows orders. But the words die in his throat because they aren't true, and they both know it.
"I..." Bellamy starts, then stops, his thoughts in turmoil.
"You already know, don't you?" Ivah's voice is gentle now, almost coaxing. "You've been thinking about it, planning for it, weighing options and consequences. Because that's what leaders do—they prepare for the decisions that will define their reign."
"How can you see that when my own mother's council can't?"
"Because I recognize another leader when I see one. Even a reluctant one." Ivah's smile is more appraising than taunting. "The question is whether you'll have the courage to act when the time comes, or whether you'll let someone else make the hard choices for you."
Bellamy feels something cold settle in his stomach. Everything Ivah has said rings true—about the Northern Kingdom, about his own role in Mirn's governance, about the decisions that loom in his future. But hearing it laid out so starkly, by an enemy who sees more clearly than his own allies, is deeply unsettling.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asks quietly.
Ivah's eyes glitter with something dangerous and delighted, and a grin spreads across his face—something genuinely amused and pleased.
