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The realization clanged through her. “You’re building an army.”

He didn’t even try to deny it.

“Don’t get me wrong, shades are fantastically lethal.” He swirled his drink, watching the bubbles rise. “But they decayso quickly. This humidity, alone—gods. I’ve lost nearly as many recruits to rot as I’ve been able to enlist.” He gave agraciouslittle shrug, as if discussing an inconvenient business expense.

“Buthumans.” He tapped a finger against the rim of his glass, eyes glinting. “Even if I recruit only a quarter of their population, that’s more boots on the ground than even Ghislain could muster. And they re-populate. Truly, they breed like rabbits.”

There was something almost proud in his expression, a satisfaction that twisted Taly’s stomach. He reveled in it—the potential for so much suffering.

“And who exactly do you plan to fight with this army?” she asked.

“My quarrel is not with you.”

“But is it on Earth?”

“It is a family matter.”

“But is it on Earth?”

Silence.

And there was her answer.

He would take his armies and go, but not forever. One day, he’d come pillaging his way back through, and Tempris would be on the frontline of whatever war he was waging.

“I am waging a war—that’s true,” he said, plucking the words right from her head. “Long ago, my siblings delivered unto me a great injustice, and now I’m going to return the favor. Collateral damage is… an unfortunate consequence of any conflict.”

Taly barked a laugh. “Is that all we are to you? All those people you killed—mypeople. Just collateral damage?”

“Well, no. Not all of them.” He considered for a moment, then nodded. “The intensity of the first incursion was decidedly deliberate. I needed bodies. Soldiers. While only a handfulwere required to take this island, to establish a foothold in my brother’s realm—well, that’s going to requiremore.”

Taly’s stomach twisted. Not just at what he’d done, but at how little he cared. “Oh, well, as long as you meant to do it. That makes it all better.”

Aneirin tilted his head, watching her with something like amusement. “Do you mourn every blade of grass that’s crushed underfoot, Talya?” His voice was curious. “Because that’s all this is. People live. They die. It’s nature. Insignificant in the grand scheme.”

A pause. A sip. A perfectly measured look across the table. “At least, I gave their death purpose. In my army, they’ll serve a cause greater than their lives ever could’ve been.”

Taly held his gaze. Across the table, across the wreckage of everything he’d taken.

“Fine, if it really bothers you so much…” He exhaled. Thought for a moment. “All right, how about this—this island has always belonged to the time mages. I’m willing to honor that authority. Take it for yourself. I’ll help you.” He gestured broadly. “And at the end of a short and decisive battle, I will declare you a new Queen of Ages. We will be allies, and as such, the next time my armies pass through your territory, we may do it peacefully. There will be no need for further violence.”

Violence.

The word was too small. Too ordinary, too mundane to bear the weight of what he’d done.

He hadn’t just fought battles. He’d invaded. Conquered. Killed and then stripped the dead of their dignity to fill his ranks.

“And what about them?” She glanced at the watching crowd. “What’s their mutual interest?”

“Oh, the usual. They think they’re saving the world—culling the sickness dragging birth rates into ruin. Not every human will come willingly,” he admitted. “Those who refuse to join myarmy will be given to them instead so that they may fulfill their… righteous duty. Kill the problem at the root, so to speak.”

Taly masked the bloom of horror behind a slow sip. She’d heard the rumors, of course—whispers about how humans were somehow poisoning the land, as if their mortality was some kind of contagion. They were ridiculous. Not based in science or fact, but… people believed them anyway. The lie had settled easily into the minds of those hungry for a scapegoat.

Aneirin shifted slightly, his fingers drumming in a slow, thoughtful rhythm against the table. “We can end this—right here, right now. Give me your oath.”

The room held its breath, waiting.

“And if I say no?” Her voice was even. Careful. “I’m assuming there’s a second, less generous offer?”