Chapter 68 The Day Begins
The Day Begins
The room is quiet when we return. Saurin looks up first, and the surprise that crosses her face when she sees Colsar beside me is immediate and unconcealed, her eyes moving between us before she recovers herself.
"There you are," she says, her voice carrying the faint edge of someone who had been listening for footsteps longer than she will admit. "They have been awake."
Cambra is already moving, lifting Kiss and placing her into my arms without hesitation.
The moment her small body comes against me something in my chest eases, the last of the night's tension releasing in a way nothing else manages.
She is warm and content, her small hands curling instinctively, and when she looks up her mouth opens into something that is not quite a smile yet but is close enough to feel like one.
Ari is already watching. Colsar lifts him easily, the boy coming against him with the quiet familiarity of someone who has already decided where he belongs.
There is something in Colsar's face when he looks at him, proud and almost disbelieving at the same time, and Saurin watches this with an expression I do not miss, something softening in her that she does not try to hide.
"They have grown," I murmur.
"They always will," Saurin replies, though her eyes linger on Colsar a moment longer before she turns back to her work.
I lower into the chair and adjust Kiss without thinking, the rhythm of it already familiar. She finds what she needs quickly and I exhale, letting the quiet of the moment hold.
Colsar sits beside me.
For a while we say nothing. It is enough to be here.
Breakfast has been laid on the table, and Saurin moves around us with the particular efficiency of someone who has registered the shift in the room and chosen to say nothing about it, though I catch the look she exchanges with Cambra when she thinks neither of us is paying attention.
I reach for the small circlets beside me, lifting them and turning them in my hands. I tilt one toward Ari, then the other toward Kiss, testing the size with quiet curiosity.
"Look," I say, shifting slightly toward Colsar.
He looks over.
"It fits them now."
Something proud and unguarded moves through his expression. "It does."
Ari reaches for it immediately, his small fingers closing around the edge with surprising determination, and Kiss lets out a soft sound of protest as though she objects to the idea of being left out of whatever he has claimed.
I laugh softly. Saurin makes a small sound from across the room that is unmistakably pleased, though when I look at her she has already turned back to what she was doing.
For a moment it feels simple. Then Arabar enters. He waits, as he always does, until Colsar looks up, and only then does he step forward. "It is time, Majesty."
Colsar nods once. He rises, passing Ari back to Saurin with care that feels instinctive now rather than learned. His hand brushes mine briefly as he steps away, not drawing attention to itself, but enough that I feel it.
“Wyn and the others?” he says quietly.
“Yes.”
His eyes hold mine for a moment longer. “Then you know what to say.”
“I do.”
A pause, brief but certain. “Good,” he says.
Something in my chest warms at that.
"I will return," he says.
I meet his eyes. "Bring them home."
"I will."
Then he is gone. The room moves differently in his absence. Saurin looks at me from across it, and there is something in her expression now that was not there before we left last night, something that takes in the change between us and holds it quietly.
I remain where I am until Kiss finishes, until both children are content, until the quiet has returned fully. Only then do I stand.
The table is already occupied when I enter.
Wyn sits with her usual composure, one leg crossed over the other as she rolls the dice between her fingers, the motion unhurried, almost absent.
Trophi stands behind her, his attention moving across the room without fixing on anything.
Kentan sits opposite, entirely at ease, letting the dice fall once against the wood.
Enovar arrives a moment after I do, taking the last seat. A twinge of doubt moves through me. I have never led a strategy meeting before.
Aunt Petunis’s words ring in my head. “Sit straight. They must never see you falter. You must always give the illusion of confidence. Indecision is for the common. You are a queen.” Something like gratitude moves through me. If nothing else, she prepared me for this.
Everyone stands when I enter.
“Majesty," Wyn says.
I take my place.
The dice move once more, the sound of them filling the space before anything else is said.
"We need a route," I say.
"To Veynar?” Trophi replies.
"Yes."
Kentan leans back slightly, watching me. "There are several paths," he says. "None without risk."
"There never are," I reply.
Enovar's posture shifts, subtle but noticeable. “My sources tell me that Rathmor is not as it was," he says.
The table goes quiet.
"In what way?" I ask.
He exhales slowly. “Apparently, the servants speak of it quietly. They say the halls feel wrong, as though something is not where it should be."
"And the attacks?" I ask.
"More frequent," Wyn says. "More organized."
"And Sevrin?"
A pause.
"Unstable," Enovar says. "There are questions now about his judgment."
Something tightens in my chest, though I do not let it show.
I draw in a breath. "They harmed me." The words come out clean and without weight added to them. No one speaks. I do not rush to fill the silence. I let it hold, let what it carries be felt before I continue.
I tell them what happened. Not everything, but enough. Enough for them to understand. Enough for them to feel it.
By the time I finish the air has changed. Wyn's expression has gone very still. Trophi's jaw has tightened. Enovar looks as though he is holding himself back by force alone. Kentan does not look surprised. He looks as though something has confirmed itself.
"Under Alarnan law," Trophi says slowly, "that is not a private matter."
"It is a declaration," Wyn adds. "An assault against the crown is a call for war."
"And the right of punishment lies with you," Enovar says, his voice quieter but no less certain. "If you choose to claim it."
My fingers rest lightly against the table.
"She would be placed in our custody," Trophi says. "Yvara. Mysin. Whoever was involved. It does not matter where it occurred."
I let that sit. The weight of it is clear. “Then it is not only punishment we are speaking of,” I say. “It is power.”
The dice sit untouched between us.
“Colsar is the rightful heir. Both Sevrin and Teorin are illegitimate. They deny it, but it is widely known.”
I pause. “However, he is Fyrekin. He is sovereign of Shalvar. He is tied to Alarna through me. And, most of all, he is not a feeder and the country has historically been ruled by one. The council will adamantly object to him taking over the throne.”
Kentan watches me more closely now.
"No one will question Fiorakis's claim,” I say quietly.
I let that sit between us.
"She is our firstborn. She is a feeder. One is produced in a generation, if at all. Her claim is not something Sevrin can argue without undermining his own bloodline."
Wyn leans forward slightly. "And Colsar?"
“We plan to take Veynar regardless. But we must first learn Morrath,” I say, looking at all of them. “Morrath is currently the greatest threat to almost every country in the Thronelands. It is controlled by Veynar but geographically it is dangerously close to Alarna.”
“We must learn what Morrath is hiding that is dangerous enough to keep locked. Who truly controls it. And how we can access it without feeder blood.”
“Yes,” Kentan says. “Currently the only humans who access it are those cursed by deathmagic from the Yorali king as punishment.”
“What if the king proves unstable before then?” Trophi asks carefully.
“Then Colsar will ascend as king,” I say. There is no hesitation in it. "If Sevrin’s judgment continues to falter, or if his intentions toward Morrath are not what they should be, then we take Rathmor. Quickly, and aggressively.”
Silence follows.
"What remains," I say, quieter now but no less certain, "is that in either outcome Kiss must be named heir."
“It is already decided,” I say with finality.
Enovar's expression moves. "Veynar will not ignore that."
"They cannot afford to," I reply. "They know what she is. They know what she represents. If she is not named heir to Rathmor, they risk losing her entirely."
"To Alarna," Wyn says.
"Or elsewhere," I reply.
Kentan exhales softly. "You intend to corner him."
"I intend to give him the opportunity to choose correctly." I pause. “I will give him the chance to act before I do.”
I turn to Trophi.
“As for Mysin and Yvara, Sevrin should have already punished them. That was his responsibility long before this became mine."
Trophi shifts slightly behind Wyn. "Regardless of my status now," I say, "I was the princess of Veynar when the assault took place. He does not get to ignore that. He does not get to pretend it was anything less than what it was."
Enovar's expression darkens. "So I will give him the choice," I finish. "He can act as king and administer punishment himself." A brief pause. "Or I will do it for him."
I pause. “And if he denies my daughter what she is owed, he will find I am capable of far worse than he has imagined.”
Silence follows.
Then, slowly, Trophi nods once. "He will name her."
"Yes," I say. "He will."
The dice remain untouched. The route to Veynar lies open before us, and for the first time since leaving it I am not thinking about returning. I am thinking about what I will do when I arrive.
I rise.