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Approaching the desk, I scan the parchment.

Even in battered Orthani, the King’s scribes remain efficient.

It outlines the seat on the council, the refuge for purna, and a clause forbidding any enslavement attempts.

I sense Rython’s fear hidden behind official words.

He wants my guarantee of no new conflict as much as I want purna acceptance.

He hands me a quill, eyes lingering on me. “Add your mark. Then we are bound by Orthani law.”

I hold the quill, pausing. “One last matter. What about Ai? She’s a child of extraordinary power. I want her recognized as under my guardianship, free from Orthani experiments or Red Purna meddling.”

His jaw tenses, but he dips his head. “Understood. I will not force her into any labs or arcane dissection. If she remains in Orthani, she’s your responsibility.”

My pulse steadies, feeling relief. Carefully, I sign the parchment with a flourish, sealing the negotiation.

Rython sets his ring’s signet in hot wax, pressing it to finalize.

It feels anticlimactic for such a momentous shift in Orthani’s traditions.

But that’s how changes begin—on scraps of parchment, in small rooms heavy with tension.

He turns to me, expression a blend of curiosity and guarded acceptance. “You’ll find ruling from a single council seat far more complicated than leading a band of rebellious purna or forging alliances in secret. Orthani’s bureaucracy will test your patience.”

I tilt my chin, lips curving. “I’ve tamed three dark elf warriors, defied a city’s worth of prejudice, and forced the Red Purna to retreat. I suspect your bureaucracy can’t be worse than that.”

An amused snort escapes him. “We shall see, Lady Selene.” He extends a hand in a gesture of goodwill. I meet it with a firm grip, swallowing the sense of surreal calm. I, a once-hunted purna, am shaking hands with Orthani’s King, forging a path for my kind in his domain.

He inclines his head, stepping back. “I must address my remaining generals. We can’t appear weak. But know that I expect you at the next council session. We’ll announce your appointment publicly.”

I dip my head in acknowledgment. “I’ll be there.”

He pivots, his advisors flocking around him, and they sweep out of the chamber.

I remain behind, letting the tension slowly ebb.

A gentle exhale escapes me. We’ve done it.

The city that once would have burned me at the stake now acknowledges me in its highest seat of power.

It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s a start.

I exit the antechamber, crossing the corridors with a newfound sense of calm. My men wait in the hallway beyond the double doors—Vaelith, Eryx, and Zareth. They spot me, their expressions taut with anticipation. I approach, the swirl of desire and partnership crackling between us.

Vaelith arches a brow. “Did he threaten you, or yield?”

I meet his dark gaze, a soft grin touching my lips. “We have a formal agreement. Purna acceptance, a refuge in Orthani, and a seat on the high court for me, in the royal council. In exchange, I promise no new Red Purna infiltration. Ai remains in my guardianship.”

A flicker of relief crosses Vaelith’s face. He nods, tension easing from his stance. Eryx whistles low, stepping closer. “So you truly have your piece of Orthani’s power. Where does that leave the rest of us?”

I smirk at him, letting my voice drop. “Right by my side, obviously. We’ve already proven the city can’t stand without us. This only cements it.”

Zareth approaches, gaze intense. “The King yields just like that?”

I shrug. “He sees the city’s battered state.

Better to ally with me than risk another conflict.

I suspect he’s still scheming, but as of now, we have what we want.

” My voice softens. “Now we can build a quiet refuge for purna, a place that ensures we never see forced captivity or extermination again.”

Eryx flashes a grin. “Then let’s celebrate this new dawn, dear queen. Or do you plan to bury yourself in council documents?”

Warmth spreads across my cheeks. “I’ll ensure the refuge takes shape. But yes, a bit of celebration might be in order.” A swirl of desire stirs—these men are mine, and I can show my gratitude in more ways than speeches.

Zareth dips his head, murmuring, “We can gather at your new seat, watch Orthani’s reaction, then find time for ourselves.” His gaze flicks over me with that subtle yearning. “I think you deserve a reward for forging peace from chaos.”

I arch a brow, letting a flicker of mischief show.

“Oh, is that so? Perhaps I’ll claim my reward in private.

” The memory of last night’s stolen time with them tugs at my senses.

But the city remains in a precarious state, so I focus on practical steps.

“First, let’s announce the covenant to my purna.

We’ve several scattered from the siege, uncertain how to proceed.

They need reassurance we’re not forcing them to flee. ”

Vaelith steps forward, offering a subtle bow. “Lead on. We’ll gather them in the main courtyard. Then you can address them under official sanction.”

We make our way through the halls, encountering various guards and low-ranking nobles.

Some draw back as we pass, others bow awkwardly.

Word travels fast: Selene negotiated with the King.

I see a handful of purna, battered but hopeful, trailing after us.

Curiosity brightens their faces as they sense we’re forging a sanctuary.

We reach the courtyard outside the keep.

It’s less war-torn than others, lined with cracked pillars and a half-intact fountain.

A small group of purna stands near the fountain, some bandaged, others supporting each other.

They straighten as we approach, eyes reflecting nervous anticipation.

Eryx slips away to gather more, calling softly to purna who linger at the courtyard edges.

With me at the center, Vaelith, Zareth, and Eryx flank me once the group swells.

A hush settles over them. I study each face—a mixture of young and old, exiles who once hid in Orthani’s slums or infiltration squads that surrendered after the Red Purna’s fiasco.

I push aside that forbidden word fiasco.

They watch me with uncertainty. They know I turned on the extremist Red Purna faction.

Now I stand allied with dark elves. Are they safe with me?

Clearing my throat, I speak in a carrying tone, letting my psionic resonance shape the clarity of my voice.

“Purna of Orthani, I’ve secured a new beginning for us.

King Rython grants us a recognized place within these walls and a seat on his council.

We won’t be hunted or forced to run. We can build a refuge—a quiet coven, if you will—where purna can dwell without fear. ”

A wave of astonished murmurs ripples through them. An older purna woman steps forward, tears in her eyes. “Can it be true? We need not hide in alleys or disguise ourselves as humans?”

I hold her gaze. “True. The days of Orthani branding us as abominations must end. We’ll remain vigilant, but the King’s decree stands. If any noble tries to enslave you, they defy me and the council.”

She sinks to her knees, overwhelmed. A younger purna man helps her stand, also blinking in disbelief. I see hope flicker across exhausted faces. One hesitates, whispering, “And if the Red Purna come back?”

My jaw sets. “They might. But I vow to defend this city if they resume violent extremism. We harness our magic for survival, not oppression. If they attack again, we stand with Orthani against them. Let them learn we choose unity.”

Quiet applause rises, cautious but real. Eryx glances over with a smirk, as if to say “Told you so.” Zareth dips his head in approval, and Vaelith’s posture radiates pride. My heart clenches with gratitude for them. We overcame so much to reach this moment.

One by one, purna approach me, asking about practicalities: lodging, resources, fears of retaliation.

I answer as best I can, referencing that I’ll have a council seat to ensure supplies, protection, and official recognition.

It’s a chaotic swirl of questions, but I sense their relief overshadowing old dread.

Eventually, the crowd disperses, needing time to process. My men remain, each reflecting a measure of satisfaction. Eryx stretches, stifling a yawn. “Well done, beloved. You’re quite the politician now.”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s hope I don’t regret it. Bureaucracy is rarely as thrilling as battle.”

Zareth steps close, voice low. “But less deadly. This city needs your cunning. And we… we want you safe.” He hesitates, a faint vulnerability glinting in his dark eyes.

I rest a hand on his arm, acknowledging the sentiment.

“I appreciate your concern, Zareth.” Then I cast a look to Vaelith.

“We have a seat at the council, but we also have to ensure purna truly feel safe. That means continuing to dismantle the older prejudices. Some might still hate me for upending their world.”

Vaelith inclines his head. “Agreed. I’ll station loyal guards near the purna refuge. Any harassment and we respond.”

I exhale, letting relief seep in. Finally, a moment of genuine calm. My gaze sweeps the battered courtyard, the columns reminiscent of the old Orthani splendor. We stand at the threshold of new beginnings. The heavy tension dissolves, replaced by a subtle, rising sense of possibility.