The offer did not come by letter.
It came by proclamation.
At dawn, royal messengers rode into the border towns—not shouting, not threatening. They posted notices in neat script, sealed in white wax instead of red.
People gathered.
They always did.
By decree of Her Majesty Queen Seraphine,
The crown seeks peace.
Princess Aelira Nyxvale is invited to return to the capital under royal protection.
In exchange, all investigations, levies, and military actions against suspected rebel supporters will cease.
No blood will be spilled.
No punishment enacted.
Mercy will be granted.
The final line was written smaller. Colder.
This offer stands for three days.
The Hollow learned of it by noon.
Jax burst into the council chamber, parchment shaking in his hands. "She's calling it mercy," he said incredulously. "People are already whispering that you're the reason patrols are coming."
Aelira read the notice once.
Then closed her eyes.
"She's reframing the war," Lyra said tightly. "Making you the cost of peace."
Elda's jaw hardened. "Clever. If the violence stops, people will beg her to take the offer."
"And if it doesn't," Rook added grimly, "they'll blame us for refusing."
All eyes turned to Aelira.
Kael said nothing.
He was too still.
"She wants me visible," Aelira said calmly. "Alone. Returned on her terms."
Kael finally spoke. "You're not going."
"I am," Aelira replied.
The room erupted.
"No—"
"That's suicide—"
"She'll kill you the moment—"
Aelira raised her hand.
Silence fell.
"I'm not accepting," she said. "I'm answering."
Kael stepped toward her, anger and fear barely restrained. "That distinction won't matter if she chains you."
"She won't," Aelira replied. "Not publicly."
His voice dropped. "Public mercy can still end in a private grave."
Aelira met his gaze steadily. "Only if I go unprepared."
Kael's fists clenched. "I won't let you walk into her hands."
She softened—just for him.
"You won't," she said quietly. "You'll walk with me."
The room stilled.
Elda narrowed her eyes. "You're planning to turn the offer."
"Yes," Aelira replied. "She wants me as a symbol of peace."
Her lips curved faintly.
"I'll become a symbol of exposure."
By nightfall, rumors were already moving faster than messengers.
Some said the princess would surrender.
Some said she'd betrayed the rebels.
Some said the queen was afraid.
Aelira stood at the edge of the Hollow, watching lanterns flicker below.
"If I refuse outright," she said softly, "the queen paints me as cruel."
"And if you accept?" Kael asked.
"I make her show her hand," Aelira replied. "In front of everyone."
Kael exhaled slowly. "I don't like this."
"I know."
"You could lose everything."
Aelira turned to him. "So could she."
Silence settled—heavy, electric.
"How long?" Kael asked.
"Three days," she said. "Just as she planned."
He nodded once, decision hardening. "Then we prepare."
Aelira smiled—small, fierce, unwavering.
"Yes," she said. "We prepare."
Far away, Queen Seraphine stood on her balcony, city spread beneath her like a chessboard.
"She'll come," the queen said softly.
Because mercy was a blade best used when the victim believed it was salvation.
And in three days—
The entire kingdom would be watching.