The throne room was unnervingly quiet, the faint sound of Lyanna's footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Dawn's light barely penetrated the heavy curtains, leaving the room shrouded in a dim, golden haze. As she approached the empty throne, her chest tightened. This was the seat of her family's legacy, a symbol of power that now felt more like a target.
Kalen entered behind her, his presence a steady anchor in the whirlwind of her thoughts. He carried the weight of a man prepared for war, but his eyes betrayed his concern.
"You shouldn't have come here alone," he said, his voice low but firm.
Lyanna turned to face him, her expression resolute. "This is my kingdom, Kalen. If I hide from my own throne, then Lorian has already won."
Before he could respond, the doors to the throne room creaked open, revealing Clara. She hesitated at the threshold, her face pale and her hands clutching a rolled parchment.
"Your Grace," Clara said, her voice trembling. "A message from the eastern border. It's… urgent."
Lyanna took the parchment, her fingers brushing against the faint traces of blood staining the edges. Her stomach churned as she unrolled it. The handwriting was rushed, the ink smudged in places, but the message was clear:
"Lorian's forces have crossed into the borderlands. They're moving under the cover of night. We need reinforcements immediately."
Her grip tightened, the paper crumpling slightly under her fingers. She handed it to Kalen, who scanned the contents, his jaw clenching.
"He's testing you," Kalen said, his voice hard. "Seeing how far he can push before you respond."
"And if I don't respond?" Lyanna asked, her tone sharp.
Kalen's gaze met hers, steady and unyielding. "Then he'll see it as weakness—and he'll keep coming."
A Dangerous Proposition
Later that evening, Lyanna convened a secret council in her private chambers. Around the table sat her most trusted advisors, their faces etched with concern.
"We cannot afford to stretch our forces thin," said General Harwin, a grizzled warrior who had served her family for decades. "If we send reinforcements to the borderlands, it will leave the capital vulnerable."
"And if we don't send reinforcements?" Lyanna countered. "The borderlands will fall, and Lorian will gain a foothold inside our kingdom."
"It's a calculated risk either way," Harwin admitted.
Sorin, who had been lounging in a corner, smirked. "Perhaps you're looking at this the wrong way."
All eyes turned to him, suspicion thick in the air.
"What do you suggest?" Lyanna asked, her tone guarded.
"Instead of playing defense," Sorin said, his voice smooth, "why not strike first? Take the fight to Lorian before he has a chance to consolidate his forces."
"That's reckless," Kalen snapped. "We don't know the full extent of his army. Charging in blind would be suicide."
"Not if you have the right allies," Sorin said, his gaze locking onto Lyanna.
She frowned. "You mean the guild."
Sorin's grin widened. "Precisely. We have spies in Lorian's camp, people who can feed us information about his plans. With their help, we could anticipate his moves and turn his own strategy against him."
The room fell silent as the weight of his words settled over them.
"It's a gamble," Harwin said finally. "But it might be our best chance."
Lyanna's mind raced, the decision before her heavy with consequences. Aligning with the guild meant walking a dangerous line, but the alternative was to let Lorian dictate the terms of their conflict.
A Revelation in the Dark
Long after the council had dispersed, Lyanna found herself unable to sleep. She stood on the balcony of her chambers, staring out at the city below. The flickering lights of the torches lining the streets seemed so small, so fragile, against the vast darkness beyond the walls.
Kalen approached silently, his presence as familiar as the rhythm of her own heartbeat.
"You made the right choice," he said, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice.
"Did I?" Lyanna asked, not turning to face him. "Aligning with Sorin feels like inviting a viper into our midst. But without him…"
"You'd be fighting blind," Kalen finished.
She nodded, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her responsibilities. "Sometimes I wonder if this throne is worth all the blood it demands."
Kalen stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers. "It's not the throne that's worth it—it's the people. They need you, Lyanna. And whether you believe it or not, you're stronger than you think."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the walls she had built around herself threatened to crumble. But before either of them could speak, a shadow moved in the corner of her vision.
"Did you see that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Kalen's hand went to his sword as he turned toward the balcony doors. The shadow moved again, this time accompanied by the faint creak of wood.
"Stay here," Kalen said, drawing his blade and stepping into the room.
Lyanna's heart raced as she followed him, her own dagger clenched tightly in her hand. The room was eerily silent, every corner shrouded in darkness.
Then, without warning, a figure lunged from the shadows.
Kalen reacted instantly, his sword slicing through the air. The intruder dodged, their movements quick and precise. Lyanna's dagger flashed as she joined the fray, her years of training kicking in.
The fight was brief but brutal. Kalen managed to disarm the intruder, pinning them against the wall.
"Who sent you?" Kalen demanded, his blade pressed against the figure's throat.
The intruder chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "You're too late," they rasped. "He's already inside the walls."
Lyanna's blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"
But the intruder's only response was a cruel smile before they bit down on something hidden in their mouth. Moments later, their body went limp, the poison taking effect before any answers could be extracted.
Kalen cursed under his breath, his grip tightening on his sword.
Lyanna turned toward the window, her mind racing. If Lorian's forces had already infiltrated the city, then they were facing a threat far greater than they had anticipated.