She didn’t spare Zeera a glance. Merely stepped beside the Resh’Agar, placed two fingers to his wrist in formal contact, and bowed—not low, butpreciselyenough to mark respect without subservience.
“We will be taking Our leave to prepare for the Grand Festival,” she said, voice even. “Once it pleases you, Your Quintessence, We will converge beneath the Void once more.”
Then, without waiting for response, she turned. But as she moved, she let her Bond whisper slip like a silk thread between them.
I really do need to observe the stage and plan for the procession. You know where to find me.
And then, because she couldn’t quite help herself, she added,try not to bite her too hard. She bruises easily, and barks more loudly when she’s cut.
Behind her, Kailorien exhaled once. To Zeera, it was a breath. To Auryn, it was the Bond answering back.I won’t be far, starlight.
No one else in the chamber heard the promises that passed between them.
But they felt the silence that followed.
Zeera stood perfectly still, her lips parted as if to speak, only to realize there was no space left for her in the conversation.
26
The Cage and the Key
Six months had passed since Auryn first stood in the Prismatum as Sokâr—six months of subtle wars, whispered alliances, and favors won by a margin of breath. She was no longer a trembling voice beneath her veil, and today she must prove it.
The double doors to the Axis Hall loomed over her like godly sentinels, the words carved above them a reminder of the dangers beyond.
'Through power, sovereignty. '
Ironic, for the power the men in the hall wielded wasn’t borne of strength, only privilege. Most Councilors had lived well beyond a human’s life span, buying decades with blood magic and forbidden spells, selling their souls for more time spent upon their thrones. What remained were wrinkled husks barely fit to read reports, let alone vote on matters of importance.
In the Hall, raised voices argued, debating the recent Solutus outbreak and attacks. Now was the moment for Auryn to enter, but she hesitated. Sweat coated her skin beneath the intricate new gown Lu’ma had helped dress her in that morning. It was a creation of white, gold, and rose silks, meant to radiate elegance and power. No veils. No fluttering skirts. Just a sleek design with curved seams lined with pearls sewn to resemble dragon scales along her torso and sleeves. Her diadem bore spikes today, matching the design of the Resh’Agar’s pauldrons.
She took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled.
'Master thy fear, and you will master thy cage. '
Auryn had read this in the Umbral Archives some weeks ago, and the phrase had changed something inside of her. She stood now on the precipice of something vast, something terrible, and something terrifying. Her first attendance of a Council session.
She could already picture the men’s faces when she appeared. The insults spewing like boiling water from cracked lips and serpentine tongues.
Child.
Ornament.
Ceremonial doll come to play at war.
The formless silver Consort playing at politics.
If the past six months were any indication, Kailorien’s demands of building her a wing, of granting her a larger stipend, and of reinforcing her Reskala guards had only tipped them farther against her. But such things couldn’t divert her now. Not after the price both she and Kailorien had paid for her to enter this room.
Lu’ma stood beside Auryn, spine straight, long pointed hood drawn, and jaw clenched. Ready to enter with her. In her arms, she held a satchel which contained all the things Auryn had fought for over the course of the past months.
A writ from the Sovereign Flame himself.
A recommendation from Lamari Dross, Master of Civic Regulation.
A letter of gratitude and recommendation from Vexan Til, Master of the Riftwardens.
And aplan. A daring one, and one she hoped could help her win the favor of Draevan Sol, Master of Strategic Mana Flow.
