Page 23

I stand, crossing to the table where the tome lies.

My finger brushes the illustration of a siren with swirling runes around her throat.

I imagine myself in her place, voice pulsing with unstoppable command.

A tremor runs through me—fear, yes, but also raw possibility.

If I harness this, I might liberate my people once and for all. But at what cost to my own soul?

Xelith steps behind me, close enough that I feel his warmth. My pulse quickens. “Whatever you decide,” he says quietly, “know that I’m not your enemy. We share a goal—preventing a catastrophe the council might unleash.”

I tilt my head, glancing up at him. Our gazes lock, tension humming in the space between us.

Despite the chaos swirling around us, an undeniable spark lingers—the same pull we’ve skirted for days.

My heart thrums louder. He’s a dark prince, an exile with cunning…

but he’s also the only one who knows the truth about me now.

“Thank you,” I whisper, surprising myself with the raw gratitude in my voice. “For… not throwing me to the wolves.”

His lips quirk in a faint, wry smile. “I’ve never been fond of wolves. Or councils. Or anything that presumes to control me.”

I allow a brief, humorless laugh. “We’re alike in that way, I suppose.”

He lifts a hand, as if tempted to brush a stray curl on my face. Then he catches himself, letting the hand drop. The moment passes, but a flicker of longing stays behind, fueling the swirling confusion in my chest.

“We should finalize the farmland plan,” he says. “We’ll present it tomorrow. The council expects me to prove you’re cooperating. If you can give them a location or two—some smaller cells that might be negotiated with—perhaps I can spin it into a temporary resolution.”

I nod, stepping away from the tome, away from him. “I’ll do it. But I choose which enclaves. No slaughter. I want them given a chance to surrender.”

He inclines his head. “I promise to push for mercy. But be warned, mercy in Dark Elf terms is still exploitation. Your rebels might end up as laborers under better conditions rather than free citizens.”

A lump forms in my throat, but I steady myself. Any life is better than the pyres. “I’ll do what I can to ensure no more bloodshed.” My voice trembles with the weight of compromise.

He exhales, crossing to the chamber door. “We’ll refine the details in my study, then. And keep your voice in check, Lysandra. We can’t afford another enthrallment… or illusions.”

I offer a grim nod, following him out. The corridor beyond is quiet, though I can’t shake the feeling of eyes lurking behind every corner.

Council spies, perhaps. My limbs still buzz with leftover adrenaline from enthralling Nyrus.

My mind reels with the knowledge that I carry a power all Dark Elves dread.

As we walk, Xelith’s cloak brushes my arm. I notice the tension in his posture—shoulders taut, jaw set. He might claim practicality, but something about this siren revelation rattles him deeply. Is it the threat to his people’s order, or something more personal?

We reach his private wing, wards shimmering aside to admit us.

The door seals behind us, muffling the fortress’s hum.

Inside, the table is spread with farmland rosters, maps, and scraps of parchment detailing supply routes.

I recognize the documents from earlier. The flickering overhead lamps cast shifting shadows, like serpents dancing on the walls.

Xelith gestures to the chairs. “Sit. Let’s craft the story we’ll feed the council.”

I sink into a seat, forcibly shoving my fear about sirenblood aside.

We begin dissecting the farmland, circle potential enclaves that might be willing to yield.

I advise him which leaders are more pragmatic.

He suggests forging offers of reduced quotas in exchange for surrender.

The cynic in me scoffs at any real trust, but it’s better than a massacre.

Hours pass in hushed debate, scrawling notes, crossing out lines.

Eventually, we have a workable plan: a handful of enclaves I’ll claim as the “primary cells,” hoping the council sees it as enough.

They might still enslave them, but they’ll live.

My chest twists at the half-betrayal. Yet I remind myself that if I remain silent, the entire farmland faces systematic slaughter.

Exhaustion seeps in. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since morning. Xelith stands abruptly, stretching. The lamps cast pale light across his obsidian skin, highlighting silver war sigils that shimmer faintly with mana.

I watch him, a swirl of confusing warmth coiling in my belly. This man has become both ally and captor, a potential shield against the worst evils of his kind. And now the only person who knows my secret. A shiver runs through me.

He glances my way, noticing my gaze. For a heartbeat, the tension simmers again, something that has little to do with politics. I look away hurriedly, cheeks warming. “We should… finalize the wording,” I say, clearing my throat.

He nods, returning to the table. “Yes. The council meeting is tomorrow at dusk. I’ll present our plan to them. You’ll remain in the wings, appearing docile but present. They’ll likely want to question you, too.”

My heart clenches. “Then I’ll do my best to appear cowed.”

His lips twitch wryly. “You? Cowed? That I must see.”

A faint smirk escapes me. “Don’t get used to it.”

His responding grin is brief, overshadowed by the gravity of our circumstances.

With renewed focus, we revise the final draft.

The room grows silent, broken only by the scratch of quills and the rustle of parchment.

Outside, the fortress hum hushes as evening deepens.

My back aches, my mind reels. But at last, we’re done.

I push the final sheet away, exhaling. “That’s it, then. Our best chance.”

Xelith nods, collecting the pages. He glances at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “You should rest. Tomorrow will test us both.”

I swallow, rising from the chair. My muscles protest, stiff from hours hunched over maps. “What about Nyrus?”

He sets the documents aside, tension returning to his posture. “I made discreet inquiries. He’s wandering the fortress in a daze, muttering about ‘forgotten tasks.’ He might pass it off as exhaustion or a minor hex. With luck, he won’t recall you enthralling him.”

Relief mingles with guilt. I twisted his mind. But I push the thought aside. “At least that’s one crisis averted.”

He crosses to the door with me, pausing as the wards glimmer. I brace for him to open it, but he hesitates. We stand close, the flicker of lampfire dancing over our faces. My breath catches at the sudden awareness thrumming between us again. Why does it always come back to this magnetic tension?

Xelith’s voice dips. “Lysandra… if the council meeting goes awry?—”

“Don’t,” I whisper, heart pounding. “We can’t dwell on that. We have to succeed.”

He exhales, gaze roving over my face. “You’re right.”

Silence stretches, charged and dizzying.

Slowly, he lifts a hand as though to touch my cheek, then retracts it.

A swirl of disappointment and relief war in my chest. This is madness—he’s my captor, I’m sirenborn, everything is on the brink of disaster.

Yet a raw part of me yearns for something I can’t name.

He clears his throat, the moment fracturing. “Good night, Lysandra.”

I nod, forcing a steady breath. “Good night, Xelith.”

He opens the door, letting me slip into the corridor.

The guards outside stiffen. My heart still pounds with leftover adrenaline, but I manage to keep my head high as they escort me back to my chamber.

The looming knowledge of tomorrow’s meeting weighs heavily on my shoulders.

One misstep, and the council will devour me and my kind.

Inside my room, the door locks behind me with a faint click, wards sealing me in.

I pace to the window, planing a plam on the cool glass.

Night envelopes Pyrthos, the city lights glimmering in neat lines along the streets.

Far beyond, the farmland sleeps under a starlit sky, oblivious to the fate that hangs on tomorrow’s decisions.

My reflection in the glass stares back: a woman with bruised cheekbones, hair braided haphazardly, and eyes that flicker with unspoken power.

Sirenblood. It’s real. I enthralled Nyrus.

I swallow the surge of panic. If I can enthrall him, I can enthrall others, maybe even entire squads.

The potential both thrills and terrifies me.

“Who am I?” I whisper to the empty room, voice trembling. The glass doesn’t answer. Only my own eyes, haunted by the revelation. I spent years believing I was just a human rebel with more stubbornness than sense. Now I’m something else entirely—something extinct, hunted, lethal.

And Xelith knows. He hasn’t cast me to the council.

Instead, he’s forging a conspiracy with me to manipulate them.

A surge of conflicting emotions boils in my chest—gratitude, caution, maybe a flicker of deeper feeling.

I recall the warmth of his hand on mine, the way his voice softened when he realized my terror.

A shudder racks me. If we succeed, I might protect my rebels from a purge. But I’ll remain trapped in this fortress, sirenblood a secret I dare not reveal. Unless…

A defiant spark flares in my heart. Unless I find a way to harness it fully. If I enthrall enough key figures, I could topple the entire system. My reflection’s eyes widen at the monstrous thought. But is it monstrous if it frees humans from centuries of oppression?

Shaken, I force myself to step back. I won’t make that choice lightly. Right now, I must survive tomorrow’s council session, appear docile, and pray the farmland is spared. Then I can figure out what to do with this newfound power.

I slump onto the bed, mind churning with visions of enthralled nobles and illusions swirling around me. Sleep seems impossible. My lungs feel tight, memories of Nyrus’s dazed obedience swirling in my head. So easy to break a mind if I will it. The thought sends chills through me.

Eventually, exhaustion claims me. My eyes drift shut, the fortress’s hush enveloping me.

In the darkness behind my lids, I see a swirl of violet light, hear an echo of my own voice layered with unearthly resonance.

My last conscious thought is that tomorrow, everything changes.

I can’t remain just a rebel leader haunted by past failures.

I am something more, something dangerous.

And once the council meets, I’ll be one step closer to discovering the true extent of my sirenborn heritage.

I hope we’re ready for the storm that revelation brings.