“They’re valuable allies,” Jasper said gently, reaching out to touch the Queen’s hand in a quiet gesture of reassurance. “It would be good to get them on our side.”
Syrena smiled at him—grateful, if a little too quickly.
Like she needed someone to agree with her. Like she needed this to work.
Phoenix entered the room, pausing in the doorway. “Well,” he said dryly, “what cheerful conversation did I miss this time?”
No one answered.
He limped slightly as he crossed the floor, still recovering, though he refused to admit it. He poured himself a glass of water, took one long sip, and arched a brow in my direction.
“You look like you’re about to bolt,” he said, not unkindly. Just... blunt.
I looked away.
“Her majesty would like to put on a ball,” Slade said finally.
Phoenix looked at Syrena. “A ball? Why?”
Syrena sighed, folding her hands in her lap like she was holding something delicate.
“Prince Caelen and his father, Dante, in particular, command some of the strongest fleets left in the world. They were once loyal friends to Virell… before everything fell. You and Caelen—” she hesitated, her eyes flicking to mine, “—you were close once. I thought seeing someone familiar might help.” Her voice softened. “I’d like to see them again.”
I swallowed, forcing my arms to remain at my sides. “No one is stopping you.”
She flinched, just barely—but I saw it. The hurt behind her royal mask.
The silence that followed stretched too long.
“I wasn’t trying to force you,” Syrena said, her voice quiet. “You wouldn’t be alone. Maddie, Leo, Slade and Phoenix —they’d all be there. We’d keep it small. Safe.”
Safe.
Safe. As if that word still meant something. As if it hadn’t already shattered.
I stared down at the table, tracing a line in the grain with my finger. “I don’t remember him,” I said. “Caelen. Or Dante. Or anything before Vael.”
A flicker of pain crossed her face. “I know.”
“Then stop pretending this is a reunion,” I added, sharper than I meant to. “It’s a negotiation. Just say it.”
Phoenix leaned forward slightly. “She’s not wrong.”
Syrena’s gaze snapped to him—then softened, as if she were too tired to argue.
“I’m not pretending,” she said at last. “But yes. We need them. We need ships, soldiers, safe trade routes. And you... you are our best hope.”
My hands curled into fists in my lap. I hated the way that word felt in my mouth. Hope. It wasn’t a gift—it was a burden people handed you like chains.
“We could even get you some new clothes. Maybe a new dress.” She said hopefully.
Leo’s hand brushed mine under the table. Just the edge of his fingers. Steady. Quiet.
“It might not be the worst thing to get a change of scenery,” he murmured in my ear.
“I’ll wear the dress,” I said finally, still not looking at her. “Smile for the right people. Say the right things. But don’t ask me to pretend to be happy.”
Syrena exhaled—relief, guilt, exhaustion, maybe all three. “That’s all I ask.”
