The raven's ashes still smoldered in the firepit.
Elara stood before it, arms folded, cloak loose around her shoulders. Her eyes did not blink. She watched the curling smoke like it would speak again.
"When the clouds gather, even the eagle returns to the nest with caution."
But she would not retreat.
Not now.
Not when she was finally being seen as a threat.
Zela arrived at dawn, wrapped in healer's bandages and sarcasm.
"I counted two cracked ribs, one bruised ego, and a royal feast ruined," she said. "Not bad for a first strike."
Elara turned slowly. "I need loyalists. Not just friends."
Zela's smirk faded.
"I'm serious," Elara continued. "The palace is shifting. Nobles are choosing sides. Caelum's influence is cracked. Myra's moving like she's already queen. I can't wait for him to catch up."
"So what do you want?"
"A court of my own."
Zela blinked. "You're building a faction?"
"No," Elara said. "I'm building a family—one that survives."
Zela whistled low. "I know just the place to start."
They met in the Sunken Library, an abandoned vault beneath the east wing, drowned in mildew and half-burned scrolls from the last palace purge.
It was perfect.
Zela brought the first recruits:
Ramos: a mute alchemist branded a heretic by the priesthood.N'kobi: a former palace guard turned shadowblade, known for stealing a royal seal during a masquerade.Ebele: a girl with storm-sight, one silver eye and one blind—able to hear lies as if they were shouted.
Misfits. Exiles. Talents discarded because they didn't fit the throne's idea of beauty.
Elara welcomed them with open hands and an iron spine.
"You're not my soldiers," she told them. "You're not my spies. You're my teeth in the dark."
Ramos nodded.
N'kobi bowed.
Ebele smiled and said, "Then it's time the dark started biting back."
"The broom may be made of sticks, but together, it sweeps the palace clean."
By nightfall, the court of shadows had its first mission.
Intercept a message being delivered by one of Myra's hawk messengers. The scroll was said to hold the names of nobles pledged to her secret oath.
N'kobi and Ebele vanished into the city's underbelly.
Elara remained in the vault, poring over maps and coded ledgers, her eyes tired but unrelenting.
That's when she heard the knock.
Three soft raps.
Then silence.
She opened the door with a dagger hidden in her sleeve.
It wasn't a servant.
It wasn't a friend.
It was Lady Morenji.
The noblewoman looked as if she hadn't slept. Her eyes gleamed like obsidian dipped in oil.
"You've made enemies," Morenji said simply.
Elara arched a brow. "Didn't we all?"
Morenji stepped inside without asking.
"I hated you," she said. "Still might. But Myra... has no limits. She killed my youngest son this morning. Sent his heart to me in a glass jar."
A chill wrapped around Elara's spine.
"He tried to leave her circle. She made him an example."
Morenji stepped closer.
"I want in."
Elara said nothing.
But she offered a seat.
"When the fire burns the forest, even the snake prays for rain."
Later that night, the first spy returned.
Ebele dropped the stolen scroll on Elara's desk with a grim look.
"She's not just building a noble base," Ebele said. "She's bribing the temple. Four seers. Two high chanters. Even one of the moon judges."
Elara opened the scroll.
Her own name wasn't there.
But Caelum's was.
Not as Myra's enemy.
As her future king.
Elara stared.
No rage. No sorrow.
Only clarity.
"She plans to kill me," Elara said softly. "Then marry him—and claim divine unity."
Zela leaned against the wall. "Does he know?"
"Not yet."
"Will you tell him?"
"The one who brings the honey should be careful not to spill the ants."
Elara closed the scroll and turned to the map.
"No," she said. "He made me a player. Now I'm becoming the board."