CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Clans at Midnight
SERAPHINE
Revolutions look less impressive up close.
Mostly they involve cold feet, bad coffee, and arguments over maps.
By midnight, the basement beneath the cooper’s guild held representatives from nine wolf clans, three rebel cells, two royal companies, a guildmaster, a baker who had somehow become responsible for south-district communications, and Princess Nyra, who had stopped asking permission from anyone hours ago.
Lucian stood at the end of the table without his crown.
Everyone noticed.
No one mentioned it.
Elias leaned against the wall beside me, pale beneath his skin but stubbornly upright. Mira had threatened to drug him if he tore his shoulder wound again. He had replied that she would have to catch him first.
Mira had smiled in a way that suggested she intended to.
Darius pointed to the palace map.
“Malrec has prisoners on the north balcony and temple blades around the throne wing. Severin’s personal guard holds the inner courtyard. We estimate two hundred armed men inside.”
“Plus whatever he made from moonrot,” I said.
A murmur moved around the table.
Clanmaster Oren of Frostmere, a gray-bearded wolf who had opposed Lucian for most of his reign, looked at the king.
“You ask us to storm Moon Court so you may sit the throne again?”
Lucian’s expression did not change.
“No.”
That silenced the room.
Oren frowned. “Then why are we here?”
“To free the prisoners. Arrest Malrec. Stop the Blood Warden from being released into the city.”
“And afterward?”
“Afterward, Nocthar decides what happens to the throne.”
Several people laughed in disbelief.
Lucian did not.
I felt the steadiness of him through the bond.
Oren’s gaze narrowed. “Kings do not surrender authority to a room of frightened wolves.”
“My father didn’t.”
The room quieted again.
“That is why we are in this room.”
Lucian laid the rubbing of the first prophecy on the table.
“The crown’s dominance is not divine favor. It is blood magic. Every Veyr ruler has benefited from it, including me. If we survive tomorrow, I will break it.”
A younger clan leader stared. “You would make yourself ordinary?”
Darius coughed.
Lucian looked at him.
“I’m trying very hard,” Darius said.
A few people smiled.
The tension eased just enough.
Then Oren looked at me.
“And the Moonmarked woman? What does she become?”
Woman.
Not curse.
Progress could be microscopic.
I stepped forward.
“Alive, preferably.”
That earned a short laugh.
I continued. “Malrec wants you to believe my blood is a weapon. He wants Lucian to believe the crown is the only thing keeping wolves civilized. He wants rebels to believe every royal is an enemy and royalists to believe every dissenter is a traitor. Those lies have kept him powerful for generations.”
I looked around the table.
“My family died because people obeyed a story before they checked whether it was true.”
Elias lowered his eyes.
“Tomorrow, the red moon rises. Malrec will try to use me to hold the power beneath the throne. If he succeeds, the ferals at Blackwater will look merciful by comparison.”
The room had gone still.
“I cannot stop him alone. Lucian cannot. No clan can.”
I placed my palm over the prophecy rubbing.
“So choose why you fight. Not because your king commands you. Not because your priest frightens you. Not because your dead demand revenge. Choose the living.”
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Then Oren stepped forward and placed his knife on the table.
“Frostmere fights for the living.”
One by one, others followed.
Iron Ridge.
Hollow Fen.
Ashen Vale.
Royal Guard.
South rebels.
Guild watch.
By the time the last blade touched the wood, Lucian’s eyes were bright with something he would never admit was emotion.
The plan formed quickly after that.
Elias would lead rebels through the old western drains and open the lower cells.
Darius would take royal loyalists through the armory passage.
Nyra and Elowen would secure the east bell tower and broadcast the original prophecy across the city.
Lucian and I would enter through the crypt passage beneath the tribunal hall and reach the crown stone before Malrec could begin the rite.
“Absolutely not,” Elias said.
I stared at him. “Which part?”
“The part where you walk directly toward the man who called you a vessel.”
“That is also the part where I stop him using me as one.”
“Send someone else.”
“Do you have another Moonmarked sister hidden somewhere?”
His mouth flattened.
Lucian said, “I will keep her safe.”
Elias turned toward him.
“Do not promise things you cannot control.”
Lucian went silent.
I felt the truth of that warning land in him.
He looked at me instead.
“I will stay with her as long as she wants me beside her.”
Better.
Elias saw that too.
After the meeting, he caught me on the stairs.
“Sparrow.”
I turned.
He held out our father’s journal.
“I want you to keep it.”
I did not take it.
“Why?”
“In case.”
“No.”
“Sera.”
“No. You keep it and give it to me tomorrow.”
He smiled sadly.
“You always were bossy.”
“You taught me.”
He pushed the journal into my hands anyway.
Then he hugged me.
Too tightly.
Too long.
Fear climbed into my throat.
“Elias.”
“I’m not planning to die.”
“Good.”
“I’m just finally planning for the possibility.”
I pulled back and hit his chest with the journal.
“You do not get to come back after twelve years and then become philosophical.”
He laughed.
The boy in the pear tree flashed through his face.
“I love you, Sparrow.”
My eyes burned.
“I love you too.”
He kissed my forehead and walked away.
Lucian waited at the bottom of the stairs.
He had heard.
Of course he had.
I went to him.
“Tell me we all survive tomorrow,” I whispered.
He touched my face.
“I won’t lie to you.”
I closed my eyes.
His thumb moved over my cheek.
“But I can tell you this,” he said. “Whatever happens beneath that throne, you will never face it because fate ordered you there.”
I opened my eyes.
“You face it because you choose to. And if you choose to turn around tomorrow, I turn with you.”
The fear remained.
But it was no longer alone.
I kissed his palm.
“Then we go forward.”