Morrigan’s sister. Morrigan’s blood.
I should have left her on the stones.
“—can’t ignore the tactical implications.” Drayke’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. He stands at the head of the massive oak table that dominates the chamber, maps spread before him, his amber gaze sweeping across each of us in turn. “The fourth Relic is in our possession. The only person who can control it is in our infirmary. And the Shadow Clan just destroyed an entire kingdom to acquire both.”
“So we use her.” Rurik leans back in his chair, boots propped on the table’s edge despite my pointed glare. His red hair is wilder than usual, his golden gaze bright with the particular energy he gets when violence is on the horizon. “She camehere for protection. We give it—in exchange for her cooperation against Ulrik and Morrigan.”
“She’s not a weapon to be deployed.” Selene’s voice carries an edge I’ve learned to recognize over the past months. The edge that says she’s about to dig in and fight for something. “She’s a person. A person who just lost everything.”
“A person whose sister murdered Auren’s family.” Zyphon speaks from the shadows near the window, his violet-tinged gaze fixed on something beyond the glass. The shadows curl around him, darker than they should be in the well-lit chamber. “We can’t pretend that history doesn’t exist.”
Every head turns toward me.
I keep my expression neutral. Keep my voice level. Keep the ice firmly in place around the memories trying to claw their way to the surface.
“History is exactly what we need to consider.” I move to the map table, letting the familiar ritual of strategic analysis ground me. “Morrigan killed Lyric in a ritual designed to steal Fire-Bringer flame. The ritual failed because Morrigan lacks Fire-Bringer blood entirely—she couldn’t absorb what she took. But the attempt suggests she’s been searching for a way to acquire both witch magic and Fire-Bringer abilities for decades.”
“And now her sister shows up with both.” Rurik’s grin has faded. Even he can see where this is heading. “Convenient.”
“More than convenient. Essential.” I trace a finger along the map, following the trade routes between Valdoria and Shadow Clan territory. “Tamsin carries both bloodlines at unprecedented strength. Royal witch heritage from her mother’s line—the most powerful witch bloodline in existence. Pure Fire-Bringer blood from her father’s line, undiluted across generations of careful breeding. She doesn’t just have both abilities. She has them at levels we’ve never seen before.”
The memory surfaces despite my best efforts: white fire spiraling toward the ceiling, heat that should have been unbearable but somehow wasn’t, the raw power pouring off her unconscious form while three Fire-Bringers struggled to contain it.
She’s stronger than all of them. Unconscious and half-dead, and still stronger.
“I saw what she did last night.” Nasyra’s quiet voice draws attention. She stands apart from the others, her mismatched gaze distant.
“Which means Morrigan will never stop hunting her.” I let the implication settle over the room. “If Morrigan drains Tamsin’s blood, she finally gets what she failed to take from Lyric. Fire-Bringer flame combined with royal witch magic. The ability to not just seal the Crown, but open it. Wield it.”
“And if Ulrik gets her instead?” Drayke’s question is pointed.
“Then he has a weapon that can be... persuaded... to use the Crown on his behalf.” The words taste bitter. “Torture. Coercion. Threats against whatever she still cares about. Ulrik isn’t subtle when subtlety fails him. He created Zyphon’s curse out of cold efficiency—he’ll do whatever it takes to control the Crown’s power.”
Zyphon’s shadows flare briefly at the mention of his curse. No one comments.
“So we’re her only option.” Selene crosses her arms. “And she’s our only option for controlling the fourth Relic. Seems straightforward to me.”
“Nothing about this is straightforward.” I turn from the map, letting my gaze sweep the room. “She’s a Valdorian witch. Her bloodline allied with the Shadow Clan. Her sister murdered my family and has been feeding intelligence to Ulrik for decades. Even if Tamsin herself is genuine—even if her desperation is realand her intentions pure—she represents a security risk unlike anything we’ve faced.”
“You think she’s a trap.” Aisling speaks for the first time, her clinical tone cutting through the tension. “That Morrigan sent her.”
“I think we can’t afford to assume she isn’t.”
“She nearly died getting here.” Selene’s voice sharpens. “I treated her wounds myself. Days of running, barely any food or rest, magical reserves so depleted she could barely maintain the wards around the Crown. No one fakes that level of exhaustion.”
“Morrigan faked affection for my sister for months before she killed her.”
The words land in the chamber with the force of a physical blow. Selene flinches. Even Rurik loses his casual sprawl, sitting up straighter.
I shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t have let that much slip through the cracks. But the memory of Tamsin’s face when she spoke about Lyric—the grief in her amber gaze, the crack in her voice when she apologized for crimes she didn’t commit—keeps sliding against the memory of Morrigan’s smile as she promised to teach my sister.
Trust made her vulnerable. Trust killed her.
“Auren.” Drayke’s voice is quiet. Steady. The voice of a king who’s watched his brother carry this grief for decades and never found the right words to ease it. “I understand your concerns. They’re valid. But we can’t make decisions based solely on what Morrigan did. Tamsin isn’t her sister.”
“You can’t know that.”
“No. I can’t.” He meets my stare without flinching. “But I know what I saw at the gate yesterday. A woman who’d lost everything, begging help from people who had every reason to refuse her. A woman who looked you in the eye and acknowledged what her bloodline did to yours without makingexcuses or asking for forgiveness.” He pauses. “That took courage. The kind of courage that doesn’t usually come with deception.”
