Chapter Planning Room #2
I sigh, feeling the stress pressing down on me. The prophecy, the Shadoweaver, the bond with Maxon, the spies, Outcasts, Alivar’s unexpected involvement—it all seems too much to handle. But I can’t afford to crumble now. There’s too much at stake.
“What’s done is done,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “We need to focus on what comes next. Getting Maxon back. We need to find a way to navigate this together.”
Alivar nods in agreement. “I understand. And I promise, whatever my intentions were before, my goal now is to ensure your safety and see the prophecy fulfilled.”
“We don’t even know what the prophecy means,” I huff, twisting my fingers in my cloak.
“Yes, they can be open for interpretation,” Raiden adds.
I flick my gaze back to Kian. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”
Kian’s gaze softens. “I understand if you are.”
“I’m fucking furious,” Tristan growls. His jaw tightens so much that a muscle pops.
Raiden steps forward, his presence reassuring as his arm lightly brushes against mine. “Look,” he begins, his tone calm yet firm, “We need everyone on the same side. When the king returns, we’ll deal with it then. But for now, let it go.”
Tristan, ever the fiery one, snaps back, “He is no better than Nolan.”
Sensing the tension, I make my way toward Tristan. Reaching out, I gently place my hand on his arm, and his intense indigo eyes immediately meet mine.
“It’s okay to be mad,” I whisper softly, trying to soothe the storm brewing within him. “But let’s channel that energy into getting our king home.”
Surprising me, Tristan’s strong arms envelop me in a hug, providing a sense of security and comfort I’ve missed. “I’m so relieved you’re safe and back home,” he murmurs into my hair. “Raiden assured me you’d return, but it didn’t sit well with me, having you with him.”
From behind me, I hear Alivar snort dismissively, but I ignore it.
Stepping back slightly, I offer a smile to Tristan, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’m glad you’re all okay, too. I was so worried, and someone wouldn’t pass on any details,” I accuse, gesturing over my shoulder with a thumb toward Alivar, catching his gaze.
Alivar’s eyes flicker with amusement, but he remains silent. I turn back to Tristan, seeing the worry etched on his face.
“It’s been a difficult time for all of us,” I continue. “But we’re together now, and that’s what matters. We’ll get through this, and we’ll bring our king back.”
Raiden dips his head in agreement, his expression resolute. “We need to stay united,” he asserts. “No matter what differences we have, our goal is the same: to bring the king home and restore order.”
Movement to the side catches my attention, pulling my gaze toward the unfamiliar male who entered the room alongside Tristan and Kian.
He stands tall, exuding a quiet confidence, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword.
His quizzical gaze is locked on me, studying me with an intensity that makes me want to step behind Raiden’s wings.
His long black hair is neatly braided into sections that run down his back.
The sides of his head are clean-shaven, revealing intricate tattoos etched just above his ears.
The sharp, geometric lines of the tattoos only emphasize his pointed fae ears and the chiseled angles of his jawline, giving him a striking appearance.
Everything about him, from the precision of his grooming to the silent authority in his stance, speaks of someone who’s used to command.
But it’s his eyes that draw me in. Unlike the other high fae in the room, whose shimmer with shades of purple, his eyes are a deep, comforting shade of brown.
I barely register Raiden’s touch on my back until he steps closer, his fingers press lightly against the fabric of my cloak, a subtle but protective gesture, and I can feel the steady strength behind his touch.
“Everly, this is Fenris. He is my second.”
“Nice to meet you,” I reply slowly, my mind ticking over.
Why haven’t I met him before now, and why are his eyes different? Is he fae or a shifter?
Nymeria and Anika, sensing my unease, cautiously move in closer to the new focus of my attention.
“I’ve called everyone back to Skora and Vesner so we can regroup.” Raiden’s words are calm, but laced with the gravity of the situation. “Fenris is usually stationed in Mistbourne, patrolling the borders of the Outlands.”
I frown, my brow knitting together. That doesn’t seem particularly smart, bringing forces together in one location, but what do I know?
I’m an outsider in this kingdom, a stranger to its politics and military strategy.
The last thing I need is to open my mouth and say something that reveals just how little I understand.
So, I bite my tongue, keeping my thoughts to myself, and instead watch as Raiden exchanges a nod with Fenris.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Consort,” Fenris says smoothly, his voice deep as he gives a slight bow.
I freeze. Consort?
The word hits me like a slap, brutal and unexpected. My cheeks flush, and I feel the heat creeping up my neck as my eyes widen. I’ve been called many things before—princess in jest, queen by my people. But consort?
That one felt like a punch to the gut. It doesn’t carry the same sense of power or respect. Instead, it feels like a diminishment, as if my entire existence has been reduced to my proximity to Maxon.
Fenris might see me merely as Maxon’s consort, his mate, but I am more than that. I am a queen in my own right, and I will stand beside Maxon, not behind him.
This title of consort doesn’t define me.
My strength, my resilience, and my leadership do.
I have fought battles, made sacrifices, and I will earn my place not just at Maxon’s side, but as his equal.
I am determined to prove that my worth isn’t tied to my relationship with him, but to the power and resolve I hold within.
I am not just a decoration or a supporting role; I am a force to be reckoned with.
My own thoughts startle me. I haven’t noticed it before—haven’t realized that somewhere in the last couple of days, I fully embraced who I am.
Since everyone had first suspected who I was, I resisted. I pushed against the truth, clinging to fears and doubts, convinced that I wasn’t enough, that I couldn’t carry the weight of who I was supposed to be. The power that hums beneath my skin, the instincts that guide me—it’s all part of me.
When Fenris straightens, his eyes drop to my hands, and he frowns.
“Princess?” Kian questions, his voice tinged with worry.
I tear my eyes away from Fenris, suddenly aware of the intense glare I have been giving him. Shit, talk about saying fuck you with my face. I drop my focus to the floor, trying to ground myself and regain control of my emotions.
Slowly, my fists unclench, the tension releasing from my fingers.
However, my attention is immediately drawn to an odd sensation brushing against the skin of my palms. My hands shake as I lift my palms. The cloak I'm wearing falls to my elbows and a sharp gasp escapes my lips.
Hidden beneath my sleeves, vibrant green vines emerge and wrap themselves delicately around my wrists and fingers.
Magic dances along my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
I can feel my magic expanding, granting me the ability to summon vines from within myself rather than relying on the earth alone.
“That’s new,” Raiden says, breaking me from my reverie.
Rolling my shoulders, I finally turn to face the others again, finding traces of concern mixed with astonishment etched on their faces.
“It is,” I breathe.
“Can you summon a weapon?” Alivar inquires with a hint of curiosity.
I scowl, locking eyes with him, frustration already bubbling beneath the surface. “What do you mean?”
“Like Maxon and I,” he clarifies evenly. “Our swords are elemental magic, a part of us. Part of the dragon clan that chooses us.”
Weapon. I look down at my hands, the vines now nowhere to be seen. I called them, but not consciously. It wasn’t something I controlled.
“I don’t know,” I reply, my voice softer now.
Uncertainty gnaws at me, memories flickering in my mind—my battle with Yumekui. I summoned those warriors, but they weren’t a singular weapon. They were more like extensions of my will, not something I wielded in my hands.
“Too bad everyone who would know is dead.”
The words slice through the air like a dagger. My heart stalls, and I snap my attention to Fenris, who leans casually against the wall, his face betraying no emotion. The room goes still, a heavy silence falling over us as I blink in disbelief.
The cruelty of his remark echoes in the quiet, stinging worse than any blade.
My fingers dig into my palm, but the anger is drowned out by a deeper ache—a reminder of all that I’ve lost, of all the knowledge that’s been wiped from existence.
I open my mouth, ready to bite back, but before any of us can speak, a voice rumbles from the doorway, low and commanding.
“Not everyone.”
The air in the room shifts, the tension crackling like a live wire as every head turns toward the door. Standing there, framed by the dim light, is a figure I wasn’t expecting.
The vines cast such a spell on us that we failed to notice the door to the war room opening. Nymeria and Anika, my ever-alert companions, even failed to notify us of the presence of anyone else.
“Valric,” I acknowledge, staring at my childhood paladin.
The silver-haired fae stands in the doorway, a heavy frown on his face as he stares at Fenris.
When his attention shifts to me, his violet eyes soften, and a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
Seeing the scar that runs down his cheek hurts more than I can explain.
I know it came from the night my parents died.
“Princess Vera,” he replies, with a slight incline of his head.
Alivar pushes himself away from the table, stretching slightly. “That’s my cue to leave,” he remarks with a casual grin. “I’ll be back in the morning. Tomorrow will be a long day. I suggest rest.”
I feel a pang of guilt. I know I’ve been a bit of a brat toward him, despite his efforts to help us.
As he turns to leave, I open my mouth, intending to finally thank him.
But before I can speak, Raiden discreetly elbows me, a silent reminder.
He knows exactly what I was going to say, but he also understands the importance of maintaining my composure.
I’m no longer just a human; I’m a queen, and I need to act like one.
Taking a deep breath, I straighten my posture and address Alivar with a measured tone. “I appreciate all your assistance over the last few days,” I say, trying to convey the sincerity behind my words.
Alivar’s eyes twinkle with mirth, a playful smile spreading across his face. “Anytime, Princess.” There’s a lightness in his demeanor that suggests he doesn’t take my earlier behavior to heart, but I still feel a twinge of embarrassment.
Alivar summons a portal, the shimmering air warping and swirling in front of him. With a final wink in my direction, he steps through, vanishing into the glowing vortex. The portal closes behind him with a soft whoosh, leaving only the faintest ripple in the air where he stood moments before.
“Right, all of you out. I need to speak to Everly and Valric,” Raiden’s voice rumbles through the room.
His commanding presence leaves no room for hesitation; everyone seems to sense the urgency in his demeanor.
I catch a glimpse of his face as he turns toward Fenris, his usual calm and collected expression replaced by something harsher, something edged.
His brow is furrowed, and his jaw tightens as he leans in, exchanging hushed words with Fenris.
I can’t hear exactly what Raiden is saying, but the low growl of his voice tells me enough.
Fenris doesn’t flinch under Raiden’s intense scrutiny, but I can see the subtle shift in his posture, the hardening of his stance.
His eyes narrow, a flicker of defiance crossing his face, but he stays silent, listening to whatever Raiden has to say.
Deep down, I know it’s about me.
Fenris may not know me yet, and maybe he doesn’t trust me. I can see it in the way he looks at me—quizzical, skeptical, as though he’s measuring me against some unseen standard and finding me lacking.
I glance at Fenris one more time before Raiden leads him out of the room. I don’t need Raiden to fight this fight for me. I’ll earn Fenris’s trust, but more importantly, I’ll earn his respect.
Raiden strides back over, his footsteps echoing through the room, and closes the door with a resounding thud, pinning Valric with an intense glare. “How did you get into the castle?”