Her voice carried, certain.
“We ride as one.”
The courtyard erupted in motion—hooves striking, wheels creaking, crimson banners snapping as the procession began.
Viktor kept his place at her side, the mantle heavy, the gauntlet heavier still. Pride swelled in him at the sight of her crowned at last.
Yet beneath it, something colder lingered, a shadow he could not name, as though the triumph in the air rang hollow at its edges.
Azrikel’s warning echoed in his bones.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty
The Hunt Begins
The fleet was promised, but peace was not.
The great hall of Castle Draekenra shimmered with polished marble and serpent-carved columns, banners of black and silver catching the light. Every inch spoke of elven wealth and order, untouched by war.
Amerei stepped through the doors first, crimson gown trailing, her chin high.
From the high seat, Xavien’s expression scarcely moved—but Viktor saw it. The faint tightening of his jaw, the flicker in his gaze, the way his hand stilled against the arm of the chair as though the sight of her had stopped him.
A coldness settled through Viktor, sharp as frost on glass.
Storne broke the silence, his words blunt as a hammer.
“You would speak of uniting the realm, Xavien? Then start by setting your own house in order. Betrayers marched under your name. Prove you mean to rule. Lend us your warships.”
Xavien’s eyes narrowed, but his voice stayed even.
“A bold demand, Commander. Why should Elváliev bleed further for Casqadia’s wars?”
Viktor stepped forward, the ring of his gauntlet against the table cutting the hall still. His voice was hoarse, each word dragged from him.
“My seer told me what none of us could know. In the smoke. In the slaughter. The vault at Fyreglade was broken.”
A stir among the senators.
Viktor’s gaze locked on Xavien’s.
“The Tome was taken.”
The name landed like a stone in water—rippling out, pulling every face in the chamber toward him.
Xavien’s lips parted, the words almost a whisper, yet sharp enough to cut through marble.
“The Tome of the Hollow Flame.”
His eyes turned, hard as a drawn bow, onto Storne.
“It was yours to guard.”
Storne drew a breath, ready to answer—but Xavien cut across him, voice rising with the ease of command.
“And now you bring this here, to my hall, to lay at my feet. Tell me, Commander—why should Elváliev pay for Casqadia’s failure?”
Amerei stepped forward before Storne could speak, her voice steady, carrying without force.
