The war room in Kylen’s palace was a place of sharp edges and heavier silences.
Maps covered the massive oak table, marked with colored pins and charcoal lines showing borders, troop movements, and potential threats. Candles burned low in iron sconces, casting long shadows across the faces of Kylen’s most trusted advisors — his royal beta Declan, the scarred royal gamma Eiten, and two senior generals. The air smelled of ink, wax, and tension.
Maisie sat quietly to Kylen’s right, a stack of parchment and a fresh quill in front of her. She had not spoken aloud in these meetings yet. She rarely spoke at all. But Kylen had begun bringing her here anyway, insisting her perspective mattered. “You survived Gaius’s pack,” he had told her privately. “You know how they think. That knowledge is a w
