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Once the group was complete, Agenor and Tared wasted no time getting everyone to sit down, and the conversations broke off around me as more and more people made for the circle of chairs. I plopped into the seat next to Creon, which was so high that only the tips of my toes reached the ground, and ignoredthe meaningful glares sent my way by several representatives as I beckoned Alyra to join me.

‘You might want to find yourself another spot if you don’t want them to get the worst possible first impression of you,’ Creon muttered as my familiar fluttered down to take her place on my shoulder. If anyone in the hall hadn't been glancing at me yet, they certainly were now. ‘They’re having enough opinions about my presence as is.’

‘I’m sitting here,’ I said with a small huff. ‘I think that’ll give them exactly the right impression.’

He drew in a sharp breath and nodded just too quickly as he averted his gaze – the smallest crack in the otherwise immaculate shield of uncaring boredom he’d raised around himself. I would have squeezed his hand if Agenor hadn't sat down three chairs away from me at the same moment – or, more specifically, if the tiny green snake in his chest pocket and Alyra hadn't been glowering at each other with such obvious murder in their beady eyes.

‘Don’t you dare,’ I muttered at her, and she harrumphed and grudgingly turned away, aiming her glare at Khailan instead.

The chairs between my father and me remained empty. So did the four chairs to Creon’s right, and the alf in the fifth still looked a smidge uncomfortable about the spot necessity had forced her to take. With the rest of the circle filled to the last seat, we were a glaring little island – feared, barely trusted, and isolated.

The right impression, indeed.

I absently brushed one of Alyra’s feathers from my indigo dress – blue enough to look peaceful, dark enough to contain plenty of red – and ignored the looks wandering in our direction.

‘So,’ Tared broke the strained silence. ‘Shall we get started?’

The first part would be a matter of routine, Lyn had warned me that afternoon, a repetition of what had become convention in the decades before the Last Battle. Rulers named their armedforces – a hundred alves here, a thousand vampires there. Two nymphs from the Underground rushed back and forth to plant little wooden cubes on the chalked floor map, every single one representing a hundred warriors.

The island of the Crimson Court was barely visible underneath the mountain of wood already piled on top of it.

I stared at that pile for most of the first half hour, trying not to think of the swarm that had surrounded us in the courtyard of the Golden Court. The numbers being mentioned around me started blurring within minutes and barely registered in my mind, leaving little impression but the creeping awareness that they were not high enough.

Notnearlyhigh enough.

They were all thinking the same thing; I could see it in the deepening frowns and tightening fists around the circle, all gazes following those little wooden blocks across the floor as if sheer will could double their numbers. The last queen to speak sounded almost apologetic as she told us she had a hundred and fifty-two nymphs to spare.

‘I know it’s not much,’ she added hastily, as if anyone would jump up in the silence at the end of the list and accuse her of treason, ‘but frankly, we just don’t have the population we used to …’

‘No one has,’ Lyn said, her voice flat. ‘Thank you, Kiska.’

Kiska nodded, silver-scaled hands unclenching ever so slightly in her lap.

As if by command, all eyes turned back to Lyn and Tared on the other side of the circle, the first perched on the edge of her chair, the latter lounging in his seat with deceptive nonchalance. They had to feel the weight of the collective attention but didn’t exchange so much as a single glance – knowing each other’s thoughts as always. Knowing the plans we’d made thatafternoon, the strategies we’d agreed upon, the conclusions we wanted this group to reach.

‘Considering the numbers,’ Tared slowly said, nodding at the map where the last little wooden blocks had just been placed on Kiska’s island, ‘I’d say a long campaign to exhaust the empire isn’t going to help us much. The Mother would retaliate as soon as we made our first attack, and we clearly don’t have the forces to protect every community around the archipelago.’

Mutters of agreement went up around the circle. A vampire with three missing fingers huffed and said, ‘Betting all we have on a single battle doesn’t seem that attractive either when we’re outnumbered, Thorgedson.’

‘Nothing about being outnumbered is attractive,’ Helenka said tartly. The little pile on Tolya was one of the largest among the nymph isles; I wondered how many of the nymphs she was bringing had not yet been warriors a week ago. ‘But we’ve seen she won’t hesitate to burn entire islands to the ground to keep the others in line, so I’m not looking forward to seeing what she’ll do once she truly wishes to eradicate us. Strike once and well, I’d say. It may be the only chance we’ll get.’

The group went quiet at that. More than a handful of people were staring daggers at that pile on the south side of the map – the Crimson Court, heart of the empire, impregnable stronghold.

‘We would have to aim for the court, then,’ one of the alves finally broke the silence – reaching the conclusion we, too, had reached during hours of frantic preparations that afternoon. I saw Lyn’s shoulders loosen a fraction out the corner of my eye. ‘Unless we think we can get her to move and leave the castle unprotected, but—’

‘Not a chance,’ Agenor said grimly, and no one even tried to argue.

‘The Crimson Court, then.’ Helenka was flexing her claw-like fingers, as if she couldn’t wait to rip down the walls with her bare hands. ‘Any suggestions on how we’re going to break through those defences, Lord Protector?’

The title was a dig and an acknowledgement of authority at once – she wasn’t going to forget the times they’d stood opposite each other on a battlefield, it reminded us, but neither would she deny the small advantage his knowledge of the empire’s military could offer us. Agenor’s nod was a response to both at the same time, somehow.I remember, it suggested,and trust me, I like it as little as you do.

But all he said was, ‘Their usual defences may not be the worst of our problems. Our newest intelligence suggests the bindings may be the first thing in our way – that harming either walls or warriors that Achlys and Melinoë prefer to keep intact is enough to indirectly harm them personally, and therefore enough to prevent us from using magic. We saw very strong signs of it at the Golden Court yesterday.’

No mention of Creon’s name. I was oddly grateful for it; the hissed curses and thunderous looks were bad enough without having them aimed directly at the male beside me.

‘So we’ll need an unbound mage, then,’ Helenka said.

And then all the eyes were on me anyway.