They didn’t sleep.
Not even for a minute.
Vael emptied the war room herself, voice sharp, no argument allowed. Everyone out except Helsa and Tarn. A guard posted at the door. No interruptions. No mistakes. Then she went along the long table, lighting candle after candle until the whole room burned gold and shadow.
And then it was just the three of them.
The regent. The spy. The old fighter with one eye who had lived through two kings and now stood for a queen’s sister.
They leaned over the spread of maps Ashenveil carved in ink and memory and started building something ugly. Something precise.
A trap meant for Selene.
Helsa led it.
Because Helsa understood her.
Every edge of her.
“She won’t wait,” Helsa said, quiet but certain. “She can’t. The seal settling… it terrifies her. She
