There was no time to dress their wounds, no time to hesitate over the nearly-confession which had hung as smoke between them in the chapel crypt. The war was shifting again, and on the table in the monastery cellar, strategy unfolded like rivers of fire.
The map was now messy. Red and black lines overlaid one another, scratched through, re-painted, arrows that were drawn and then rubbed out as plans kept changing with each additional piece of information. Julian had not slept much; his eyes were red, his hands trembling with fatigue as he set down the latest discovery.
"Lucian's chain of command," he said, his voice tight with urgency. "General Corvane has been stripped of authority. His divisions reassigned. From what I've pieced together from intercepted ledgers and troop rosters, Lucian's younger captains are taking his place zealous, hungry, unquestioning."
Adriana leaned over the table, her fingertip tracing the mark where Corvane's name had been crossed out. "And what of Corvane himself?"
Julian paused, and then spoke in a lowered tone. "Resentful. Bitter. Hazardous. He remains stationed in the watchtower on the west frontier. Alonely. But men like him do not forget slights."
Damian folded his arms across his chest. He loomed over the map like thundercloud, silencing the others instinctively with his presence. "Resentment will not make him an ally. A man stripped of power is double the chance of betraying us for the promise of returning to favor."
Adriana's jaw tightened. "Or double the chance of throwing Lucian to the wolves if it means climbing back to the top."
The room was quiet. Corvane's name lay upon the map like a stone in the center of a lake. Ripples of threat spread.
It was Elara who finally broke the silence. She sat slightly off to one side of the others, sharpening a blade with slow, metronomic motions. Her voice was soft, but every word carried significance. "Sometimes bitterness is stronger than loyalty. I would know."
All eyes were on her. She did not even blink at their stares. She just put the knife away and looked at the map as though it too had betrayed her sometime in the past.
When the council finally dispersed, the cellar spewed into silent hallways. Damian stood beside the map, knuckled hand against the edge as if he could hold the world from splitting asunder through determination. Adriana was left, her shadow cast long in the light of the lamp. For a moment neither spoke, the hushedness tense as a drawn bowstring.
"You're really considering this," Damian said at last, his tone flat. Not a question an accusation.
Adriana met his eyes. "Yes."
"You'll risk every one of them on a gamble with a disgraced soldier."
She straightened. "I'll risk them on the possibility of turning Lucian's command against him. That's how tyrants fall, Damian not by brute force alone, but by the rot inside their own walls."
He moved closer, the lines on his hands tightening as he gripped the edge of the table. "And what if Corvane delivers you? If it's all a trick? Do you think Lucian wouldn't sacrifice his own general?"
The weight of his words pressed upon her breast. Adriana did not move, however. "And if we don't try, we wait here until Lucian grows too strong to fight. Tell me, what is the greater danger?"
Their eyes met, two pinpricks of fire in the darkness. Below the fight was something nastier, something that neither would put into words. Damian's voice softened, on the edge of cracking. "You can't trust a man like him. You can't keep taking chances with"
Who? With my life?" she flashed, although her throat closed on the last sound. She edged in toward him, until the air between them vibrated with heat. "You think I don't know the cost? With each step I take, I offset it in blood. Don't tell me of the danger I carry.".
Damian's jaw shifted, but nothing came out. For one eternity of a heartbeat, his hand crept up close to her arm, her cheek, something to bridge the gap between them. Instead, he gasped and withdrew his hand to his own side.
"Fine," he finally spoke, voice rough. "We offer him an olive branch. But on my terms. Layers of deception. We provide Corvane with the semblance of truth, while we provide him with just enough to discover where he is."
Adriana's shoulders eased, though her pulse pounded. "A compromise, then."
"Or a trap," Damian growled. But he did not continue to protest.
They moved under moonlight, their breath clouding the darkness. Adriana led the assault unit Elara to her right, two scouts guarding their rear. Disguises masked them: Lucian's emblem printed on uniforms, stolen quartermaster's papers folded into Adriana's coat. It was a step into the wolf's mouth with each pace toward the western border.
The watchtower loomed against the stars, its stones blackened with age and smoke. Inside, General Corvane awaited. He was not the towering figure of rumor, not anymore. Scarred cheek, eyes shadowed by sleepless nights, the weight of failure pressed into his shoulders.
"You're braver than most," he rasped as Adriana entered. His voice was rough, bitter as rust. "Or more desperate."
Adriana kept her chin high. "Perhaps both."
Corvane looked at her a long time, then at Elara, who stood silent, vigilant, her hand never leaving the hilt of her sword. Something passed over his face a recognition, or perhaps simply contempt for anyone who still wore loyalty like an albatross.
"You want Lucian broken," Adriana said, landing true. "So do we. No tyrant, though, falls alone. He has to be cut from the inside out."
Corvane let out an unhinged laugh. "And you want me to be the knife."
"I think you already are," Adriana replied. "I'm just offering you the chance to hold it.".
He leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the torchlight. "You don't understand. I want Lucian killed, yes. But survival comes first. If I battle him and lose, I incinerate. If I join you and you lose, I incinerate. If I provide you with anything, it must promise me one thing: when it is done, I survive."
Adriana didn't flinch. "Help us, and I'll see to it. No one survives this war clean, but I'll keep my word."
Corvane's lips twisted into something between a sneer and a smile. "We'll see if your word outlasts your life."
The meeting ended with no clear allegiance. Only a promise. Only a shadow. Adriana left the watchtower with her pulse hammering. Damian's scowl followed her every step back into the night.
"This is madness," he growled. "Mark me, Adriana, this will cost us."
But she carried the foul taste of Corvane's words with her, iron on her tongue. A chance. Enough to keep walking forward.
Far away, in the tower of black in the heart of his kingdom, Lucian walked before a window carved like the jaws of an animal. His cloak was on the stones, his eyes coldly shining like that of a predator. Below him, his captains waited for orders.
"They think Corvane despises me," Lucian murmured softly, almost to himself. "They believe his rage will follow him."
The captains shifted uncomfortably. One of them had the audacity to speak out: "Shall we kill him, my lord? Stop the threat before it festers?"
Lucian's smile developed slowly, deliberately, and with venom. "No. A gangrenous limb invites the flies. Let them come. Let them think they see weaknesses in my armor. The further they advance into my web, the tighter they become caught."
His gaze outwards, beyond the horizon where clouds of storm pounded against the sky. "Adriana Veyra thinks she is cunning. Damian Hale thinks he is immortal. They will soon learn each step they take, I wait already."
He raised a hand, fingers extending into claws. "Prepare the trap."
The captains bent low in obeisance. Shadows quivered. The tower hummed with silent, horrific anticipation.
And out from the spire, Adriana walked into night believing she had found a weapon.