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“So, we have a plan then?” Lady Kelsey asked, between chewing her nails.

“Send word to Gyah, withdraw any planned attack. Give Duncan Rackley and the Faithful the time they need to slay Cassial without incitement of a war.”

“Do you believe this will work?” Eroan asked.

“I can hope. It is our only option.”

“There will be risks,” Lady Kelsey reminded us.

“Anything worth something comes with risks. I’ve learned that along the way.” I spared a glance at Erix, encouraged by his subtle nod and gentle smile. “Which is why we must show Durmain who the true monsters are. Between our retreat and the clashing of Faithful and Fallen, it will plant a seed of doubt in those who support Cassial.”

Just as Duwar revealed themselves as a demon in the mirror, it was always about perspective. How power was only bad if used as such. If we could change the perspective of the humans – truly show them how Cassial was using the power source with evil intentions – then they would finally see therealdemon. It would weaken Cassial’s claim to be the prophesied saviour.

But it was important, before we acted, that we received word that Cassial had been killed.

“Eroan. How long will it take for the remaining occupants in Icethorn to evacuate?”

He pondered the question. “Not long. We’ve already requested that those who dwell close to the border shift northwards. Those who decided to leave have, but it will be impossible to move the rest. It is a lot to ask people who have spent years away from their home, to abandon it again after such a short period of time.”

“I understand.” And I did. “I want you to send as many of our soldiers as possible into Icethorn land. They will guard the populated areas, in case our plans go south. In the meantime, we offer the humans Cassial is using a path to take to safety. Getting them out of danger is our focus.”

“I do not agree with these plans,” Ailon said, as if his opinion mattered. “I have said it before, and I will reiterate it–”

“Shut up, Ailon,” Lady Kelsey interrupted. “I thought we were done listening to that grating voice when Doran died, I do not want to have to survive you too. Robin.” She turned to me after the dramatic roll of her eyes. “You have my support, as well as the support of the Cedarfall numbers. As long as Althea lives, and her life is not under threat, Cedarfall will follow.”

“And me,” Eroan added. “The Icethorn army is ready for you to command.”

“If it required a vote, I would be with King Icethorn,” the Elmdew Fey said. “But a vote isn’t needed. As Robin has informed us, he is the last fey royal this side of Wychwood. We do ashecommands.”

“Myarmy will not follow this pathetic human scum,” Ailon hissed, palms slapping on the table as he stood. “Be it by my last breath, the Oakstorm court will advance and I will deal with this misbalance of power myself–”

Erix strode forwards so suddenly, Ailon choked on his words. With strong hands, Erix wrapped his fingers around Ailon’s throat, nails pinching through skin, and hauled him from the chair. “Robin already told you, the Oakstorm Court does not belong to you.”

“Then… who?” Ailon croaked, wincing as Erix drew his face inches from him.

“Me,” Erix said, the single word as sharp as a knife. “It is mine, by birthright. You have not said it to our company yet, but we both know who Elinor Oakstorm has named as her successor, don’t we, uncle?”

Erix released his neck, Ailon flopping forwards as he gasped to catch his breath. When he looked up, it was with a danger in his eyes that I hadn’t seen since Doran died. “When I save this realm, and take Duwar for my own, you will all bow before me.”

“At least you do not waste energy lying about your desires anymore,” Erix said, wings flexing to his sides. “Although, I’m afraid honesty is not always as freeing as you think it would be. Bend the knee, uncle. Do not resist me.”

“Over my dead–”

Erix flashed forwards, so quick I blinked, and it was over.

Snap. With the subtle but strong twist of Erix’s wrist, Ailon’s head bent at an ungodly angle. The light drained from his eyes, drawing back like a retreating tide. No one uttered a word, not as his death stretched out across the tent. Then Erix released the body, dropped him and stepped over the slumped body.

“Your wish is my command,” Erix said to himself, glowering down at the corpse at his feet.

The tent was stunned into silence. Erix gathered himself and turned to the crowd, shoulders rolled back as he was aware everyone had just heard his admission.

“Before I’m accused of a war crime myself, Elinor Oakstorm informed me days ago that she named me as her heir to the summer court,” Erix said, authority and command dripping from him in waves. “I am sure Ailon did not make this clear to you, just as I am sure you were not aware that Ailon has been sending letters to Cassial before the arrangement of Althea and Gyah’s wedding. Between that, and his admission of his desires for Duwar, I trust he is a problem now dealt with.”

When no one replied to him, Erix spoke one final statement aloud. “Oakstorm is mine.”

Pride swelled within me, so poignant that I felt myself threaten to burst. Erix had finally accepted that half of him entirely. Not just the monster, the gryvern – but the bloodline that gave him that strength.

“King Oakstorm,” I spoke the name for the first time, loving how it felt in my mouth. I dropped to my knee, not caring for anyone else that followed. But after a few beats, there was not a soul still standing. “As you can see, we all agree that you are rightful heir to the Oakstorm court.”