The pendant flared. Heat radiated from the chain like a brand pressed to skin. It wasn't just heat—it throbbed, synced to something deeper. Older. The second heartbeat I'd almost forgotten how to ignore.
My vision narrowed.
"No," Vaelith said through her teeth. "You're not doing this."
Seraithe tilted her head. "I'm not doing anything. The offer was already made. Your mother was quite clear. A gift of blood. Of lineage. An heir with no political ties—fresh, unclaimed, and wrapped in silk."
"Shut your mouth," Vaelith growled.
"Or what?" Seraithe's smile widened—slow and razor-sharp. "You'll finally admit how far you're willing to go for her? That would be refreshing."
Vaelith's chair scraped violently against stone as she stood. Her wings twitched beneath her robes. The air shimmered.
Kaelen rose immediately. "Enough."
Seraithe didn't blink. "Afraid she'll say something honest?"
"Enough," he repeated, voice like a drawn blade.
Teryn stood next, fingers flexing with lazy precision. "You'll turn a political discussion into a blood feud. How elegant."
Vaelith didn't take her eyes off Seraithe. Her breath came slow and steady, but there was no hiding the way her hands curled into claws.
I couldn't breathe.
Their words blurred. Too sharp. Too fast. Every sound scraped against the inside of my skull.
The pendant pulsed again—harder this time. Like it was echoing something inside me. No—warning something.
I looked between them.
Kaelen's hand rested near the hilt at his side. Teryn's fingers danced with coiling threads of magic, lazy but ready. Seraithe smiled like she wanted this to spiral. And Vaelith—
Vaelith was ready to fight.
For me.
"You are going to fight her," I said. "Over me?"
Her eyes flicked to mine, still glowing faintly from whatever magic she hadn't unleashed.
She didn't answer. Yet that was answer enough.
My voice cracked. "Why?"
Vaelith didn't move. Didn't speak.
But Seraithe?
She laughed.
"Oh, darling, look at her," she said, practically purring. "Isn't it obvious?"
Vaelith bared her teeth.
"Don't."
"Why not?" Seraithe asked, her voice softer now, but not kind. "She should know. Someone should tell her."
Kaelen muttered something low under his breath. Teryn gave an exaggerated sigh and turned slightly, as if already bored of the chaos.
But I was locked on them. On her.
"Tell me what," I demanded.
Seraithe's eyes sparkled. "That your sister has been holding herself together by the thinnest thread since the moment your name came up. That she threatened two envoys and one heir the second the terms were suggested. That she was willing to burn the negotiation table just to keep you here."
A pause.
Kaelen suddenly scoffed. "We've all made sacrifices for the sake of stability. She isn't exempt."
"She isn't yours to trade," Vaelith said, quiet but dangerous.
Teryn raised a brow. "Then perhaps she shouldn't have been left unclaimed."
Unclaimed?
My fingers twitched beneath the table.
That hit something.
Vaelith didn't speak, but her breath hitched. Her jaw flexed. The faint ripple of restrained magic shimmered against her skin like heat off steel.
"You think sending her away is wise," she said. "Fine. Call it wise. Just don't pretend it's noble."
Kaelen's voice turned cold. "We don't need noble. We need functional."
"Enough," Teryn said, his smile thin now. "We all agreed—"
"I didn't," Vaelith snapped. "And you don't speak for our wing."
"Oh, forgive me," he said, mock-pleasant. "I thought the silence from your matriarch was agreement."
The moment froze.
And through it, Seraithe leaned toward me—not across the table, but close enough that only I would hear.
Her voice was honeyed. Wicked. Amused.
"Gods, I love when she's flustered," she whispered, eyes still on the argument. "Doesn't she look radiant like this?"
My hands clenched under the table.
The pendant burned. My throat burned.
She noticed.
"Mmm," she murmured, smile never fading, "don't be so sour, little one. Being a ward isn't a punishment. It's tradition. Dignified. You'll be taught. Protected. Far from the chaos here. You may even find someone interesting."
I turned toward her, slow. My voice low. "Someone interesting?"
Seraithe tilted her head. "An Ancient. Or maybe… another heir. A strong one. You could do far worse."
The thought sank in like rot. My stomach twisted.
"You're joking," I muttered.
She just shrugged, eyes glittering. "If I were a few centuries younger, I'd have gone myself. It's an honor, you know."
"An honor," I said flatly.
"And your dear sister," she continued, tone softening with affection, "just hates the idea of losing something she finally wants."
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
Because the worst part?
Some quiet part of me wanted it to be true. That someone—even someone like her—might want me to stay. Might care.
The last time someone called me sister—
Wait.
I had a sister before too?
The thought slipped through like ice water, gone before I could grasp it.
Across the table, Vaelith slammed her hand down, cutting off Kaelen mid-sentence. The stone cracked beneath her palm.
"Enough," she growled.
Seraithe leaned back, content.
And smiled.
The room quieted, but it wasn't peace. Not really.
It was tension, stretched thin and humming just below the surface. No one said anything. No one moved.
Kaelen's hand lingered near his hip. Teryn adjusted his collar like nothing had happened. And Seraithe… Seraithe looked far too pleased with herself.
She's either dangerous or kind
Only Vaelith stayed still. Frost shimmered faintly across her knuckles, the stone beneath her palm still cracked where her hand had struck.
She didn't look at me.
And I didn't look away.
The silence dragged until finally, she spoke—low and clipped.
"This is not why we're here."
Her voice was cold. Not in the sharp, bitter way of fury—but in the precise way she wielded power. Controlled. Calculated.
She straightened slowly, fixing her robes with a jerk of her wrist.
"Whatever's been said," she continued, "this isn't a negotiation table. You'd all do well to remember that."
No one answered.
The air was different now. Stagnant. Heavy. Even the pendant had gone still, its pulse quiet beneath the silk.
I forced my hands to unclench.
Vaelith exhaled once through her nose, sharp and silent, then looked to the others.
"Despite our disagreements, we are united in one thing."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed, but he gave a small nod. "The prince."
"His claim," Teryn added, almost lazily. "And our future through it."
Vaelith gave him a glance, measured but accepting. "Exactly."
She finally turned toward me—not warm, not distant. Just focused. Steady.
"Whatever paths we take, however we posture or disagree, we serve one king. We ensure one throne. That is why you're here."
Her words landed like weight across my shoulders.
"Each of us brings information," Vaelith continued. "Contacts. Movements. Rumors. What one wing cannot see, another can. These meetings are how we share that knowledge—to deal with threats before they grow into something worse."
She glanced at Seraithe, then Kaelen, then Teryn. Each gave the barest nod.
Vaelith looked back at me. "You're not expected to contribute yet. But you are expected to learn."
I stared at her.
Learn?
From them?
I was still reeling from the idea of being sent away like some decorated offering. Still trying to figure out if the fire in my chest meant anger or something worse.
Now I was just a ward. Maybe worse.
I shivered.
Vaelith turned back to the others. "Seraithe. Begin."
The other woman gave a small, mock bow before launching into something about old factions stirring in the marshlands. Names. Territories. Shifting alliances.
I didn't hear a word of it.
Not really.
Because deep down, I'd already made up my mind.
Let them speak. Let them plan and posture and trade secrets like cards at a table.
Let them think I'm learning.
Let them think I'll play nice.
But the moment I got back to my room, I was going to write everything down. Every name. Every face. Every crack in the mask.
This isn't a game. Not to me.
And I had no intention of playing by their rules.