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‘Well,’ Kipp said, looking pleased, ‘not everyone. Just the important people.’

‘You mean the drunks and rebels?’ Anya offered drily from where she sat watching all the exchanges unfold.

Kipp met her gaze, deadly serious. ‘Like I said: the important people.’

To Wilder’s disbelief, a grin broke out in place of Anya’s usual cutthroat expression. ‘You and I are going to get along just fine,’ she said, the smile making her look almost unhinged.

Kipp only looked more interested. ‘Any Zoltaire sister is a friend of mine.’

Anya’s brow was lined with amusement. ‘Only we’re not Zoltaires, are we?’

She paused, as though waiting for the shock to erupt around the room. However, upon Wilder’s surveying, he realised that every person within these walls had discovered the existence of the Delmirian heirs at one point or another.

Kipp merely confirmed this with a shrug, sliding the wine Marise had brought across the table. ‘All the same,’ he told Anya. ‘Any sister of Thea’s is a friend of mine.’

‘Good to know, Fox boy,’ Anya replied, her shadows flickering.

To Kipp’s credit, he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, his priority was on the refreshments, as always. ‘Brought the good stuff, Marise?’ he said, filling glasses and handing them around.

Marise scoffed. ‘Naturally. Can’t have you drinking the piss Everard serves here.’

‘I heard that,’ came Everard’s voice from just outside.

‘I’d say it to your face,’ Marise retorted, but then shook his head with a grimace at Kipp.

A huff of impatience came from Audra’s end of the table.

Thea cleared her throat. ‘Can we make a start, or what?’

Wilder bit back a smile. He couldn’t quite believe who graced the back room of the Singing Hare. Shadow-touched rangers, a Naarvian guerilla general, lost heirs of Delmira, Warswords, Guardians, alchemists of Thezmarr, a tavern owner, a wine merchant… and Gus, who was knitting silently in the corner. It was a combination the likes of which Wilder had never seen. It was history in the making.

At long last, when everyone was settled around the table, reunions over, drinks in hand, the tone turned serious.

There was a loud scraping noise as Anya pushed her chair back and stood, surveying the strange mix of people before her, her expression back to its usual harsh lines and scowl. ‘Some of you only know me as the supposed Daughter of Darkness, prophesied to bring fire and blood upon the midrealms…’

A scoff sounded somewhere to Wilder’s right, and he knew even before looking that it was Audra, as she could never keep her opinions to herself. Sure enough, the librarian was shaking her head. ‘Ridiculous,’ she muttered, while Farissa nodded her support beside her.

‘Agreed,’ Anya continued. ‘But in fact, I am Anya Embervale, the true heir of the kingdom of Delmira, storm wielder, shadow-touched, and’ – she paused to glance down the table – ‘eldest sister to Althea and Elwren of Thezmarr.’

The silence was palpable, broken by a single clap.

Kipp’s hands froze mid-clap in front of his chest. ‘No?’ He looked around, shocked. ‘I thought that was the moment —’

Thankfully, Cal gave him a violent shove and he sank back into his seat.

Again, that glint of amusement sparked in Anya’s eyes, but she brought them back to the introduction at hand. ‘I was captured as a child and framed for the assault on Thezmarr many years ago. The midrealms were told thatIwas responsible for the death and destruction of so many, that it wasIwho brought a dawn of fire and blood upon the lands… But despite what you may have heard, I am no evil force spreading darkness across the midrealms. I am no mistress of monsters or tyrannical shadow-lover.’

She paused, scanning the faces before her.

‘What I truly am is someone who wants to see the curses banished from these lands, for the truth of our history and our present to be revealed to those who might do something about it.’

‘And what is this truth?’ Wren’s voice cut across the table, her glare like poison upon her eldest sister.

Anya didn’t so much as flinch. ‘That there is a race of shadow-touched people who bear no ill will to our kingdoms. That they are being targeted and blamed for the acts of another…’ Faint shadows flickered at her back as emotion warred across her face. ‘That it is King Artos who has had the midrealms under his control since the fall of Delmira long ago. Thathewas responsible for Delmira’s demise, alongside that of Naarva, and more recently, the attack on Tver.’

‘You have the proof we need?’ Audra asked plainly.

‘Beyond the word of the shadow-touched themselves? Only fragments,’ Anya admitted.