“The terrain is hostile.” Auren has moved to stand beside me, close enough that our shoulders nearly touch. “Marshes, forests thick with magical traps, mists that confuse direction and distance. A full day’s flight from here, but the approach will need to be carefully planned.”
“What about her defenses?” Aisling’s practical voice cuts through. “We know she has wards. Shadow constructs. What else?”
“The fortress itself is designed to unsettle.” Drayke’s expression darkens. “Reports describe architecture that doesn’t follow normal rules. Towers at wrong angles. Walls that shiftwhen no one’s watching. She’s spent decades making it into a nightmare.”
“I can navigate it.” The words surprise me, but I know they’re true. “I grew up in Valdorian architecture—witch-style construction with wards built into every stone. Morrigan would have used similar principles. Different intent, but the same foundation.”
“That’s actually useful.” Rurik sounds almost impressed. “You can read the building. Know where the traps are likely to be.”
“I can read where they should be. Morrigan will have added her own modifications, things only she would think of.” I trace the map with my finger, trying to imagine my sister’s thought process. “But I know how she learned to build. I can work backward from that.”
“Three days.” Drayke’s voice carries the weight of command. “We prepare—scout the approach, finalize the plan, ensure everyone knows their role. Then we move.”
Not even a full week. A lifetime and an instant, all wrapped into one impossible deadline. I’ve been waiting for this confrontation since I was seven years old. Since Morrigan first looked at me with jealousy instead of love.
“What about the Crown?” Selene’s question is carefully neutral. “If Morrigan gets her hands on it?—”
“She won’t.” I touch my chest, where the Relic rests in its dormant form. “It stays with me. If things go wrong, I can use it—channel enough power to burn through whatever trap she’s prepared.”
“Using the Crown is dangerous.” Auren’s voice is sharp with concern. “You haven’t practiced your control over it.”
I meet his eyes, letting him see my determination. “I won’t be helpless in there. I won’t be the damsel who needs rescuing. Whatever happens, I face it with everything I have.”
“Even if untested.”
“Yes.” I keep my chin lifted, foolish or not.
Something shifts in his expression—frustration giving way to something that might be respect. Or something deeper than respect, something he’s still not ready to name.
The council continues, but the important decisions have been made. We’re going on the offensive. I’m walking into my sister’s fortress as bait, and Auren is coming with me whether either of us thinks it’s wise.
The meeting endswith assignments and timelines. Drayke will coordinate the assault forces. Rurik handles weapons and explosives—apparently his “emergency supplies” are finally going to see legitimate use. Zyphon scouts the approach, using his shadow abilities to gather intelligence without being detected. The Fire-Bringers will support from various positions, their flames creating diversions and covering fire.
And Auren and I will walk into the heart of Morrigan’s power and trust that our plan holds.
People file out, discussing logistics and preparations. Selene squeezes my hand as she passes, a silent show of support. Aisling presses a small vial into my palm—emergency healing potion, she murmurs. Nasyra meets my eyes with a look that says she understands exactly what I’m walking into.
Then it’s just Auren and me, standing on opposite sides of the table, the map of Morrigan’s territory spread between us.
“You’re angry with me.” It’s not a question.
“I’m terrified for you.” The admission comes out raw, unguarded. “There’s a difference.”
Something cracks open in my chest. This dragon—this impossible, frozen, infuriating dragon—is standing in front of me with his walls down, fear written across features that usually show nothing. For me. He’s afraid for me.
“I know.” I move around the table, closing the distance between us. My heart is doing something inconvenient, beating too fast, responding to his vulnerability with a surge of feeling I’m not prepared for. “I’m terrified too. But I can’t let that stop me. If I hide here while others fight my battles, while others die because Morrigan is hunting me—” I shake my head. “I won’t be that person. I can’t be.”
“Even if it kills you?”
“Even then.” I stop in front of him, close enough to see the flecks of amber in his golden eyes. Close enough to feel the cold radiating from his skin, to watch the way his chest rises and falls with breaths that aren’t quite steady. “But I’d prefer it didn’t. Which is why you’re coming with me.”
His laugh is quiet, almost surprised. “You realize that’s not comforting. You’re saying you’d rather die together than die alone.”
“I’m saying I’d rather not die at all, but if I’m facing impossible odds, I want your brain working the problem. Not watching from a safe distance.” I reach out, touch his arm—feel the chill of his skin through his sleeve, the way his frost rises instinctively before gentling at my touch. The contact sends something electric through me, the same spark I felt in training, in the library. “I trust you, Auren. To plan. To strategize. To see the angles I miss. And to pull me out if the angles turn sharp.”
“I already did that.” His voice has gone rough again. “Caught you. When you threw yourself off a rampart like a lunatic.”
“So you have practice.” I smile despite the gravity of what we’re discussing. “And last night—you caught me then too. Carried me to my room when I fell asleep at your table.”
