Alira

  “Congratulations, little sis,” my brother said, stepping into the villa with a grin, “or should I salute first?” He snapped into a rigid military stance, hand to his brow, half joking, half earnest. I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips despite myself. He’d always had a knack for lightening my mood, even when I didn’t want it.

  Mother, predictably, had turned my promotion into an excuse for a gathering. What started as a few acquaintances had swelled into a full-blown dinner party by the time the sun dipped low. The villa buzzed with chatter and clinking glasses, a stark shift from the grim tension of the past few days. The room brimmed with optimism, as if the sudden clarity in the political mess had erased the weight we’d all carried. The usual guarded demeanor melted away, replaced by laughter and easy smiles.

  The others chuckled at my brother’s salute, and I forced myself to join in, though it felt hollow. I didn’t share the buoyant hope that seemed to lift Audemar and Torvyn. Two days of endless meetings had at least sorted some things out. Reinforcements were trickling in from every corner of the Malachor Empire, borders left thin to bolster the capital. This was our last stand, no question. If we fell here, there’d be no empire left to mourn. The soldier count had ballooned, and work on the walls was already underway, trenches dug, stones reinforced. Tiberius had called those siege spells “Meteor Showers,” and they’d shredded Draymoor like paper. Here, we could brace for them, maybe even blunt their edge. They hadn’t saved that trick for the capital siege, which was a mercy.

  Still, if they’d held back the meteors, what else were they hiding? Something worse, something that could crack these massive walls wide open? The capital’s defenses were ancient, sturdy, but never built for spells of that magnitude. No one had dared attack here since the kingdom splintered generations ago. I chewed on that thought, my mind drifting from the party’s chatter.

  An older noblewoman’s voice pulled me back. Something about the upcoming fight, I didn’t catch it. My pause gave mother an opening. “My daughter’s even now plotting solutions to our little problems,” she said smoothly, her hand resting on the woman’s arm. “Rest assured, the city’s safe.” Little problems, she called it. I nearly snorted. If only she knew how deep my misgivings ran. How every report, every scout’s whisper, tightened the knot in my gut.

  I scanned the room for Tiberius, spotting him on the far side, leaning against a pillar. I smiled faintly as he always kept his distance from mother, like she was a troll he’d rather not tangle with. But he didn’t look himself. The usual spark, that outsider’s optimism that saw angles I missed, was dim. Come to think of it, he’d been off the past few days quieter, withdrawn. Maybe that’s why my unease wouldn’t shake. He had a way of cutting through the fog, seeing what I couldn’t. If he doubted we’d pull this off, it wasn’t a good sign.

  I hadn’t spoken to him properly since the triumvirate took hold. Two days of nonstop meetings, playing referee to Audemar and Torvyn’s petty games. They still acted like this was a squabble over farmland, not a war to save everything. I excused myself from the table, weaving through the crowd to close the distance to Tiberius. He straightened as I approached, flashing a welcoming smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I knew him too well he couldn’t fool me that easily.

  “Sorry I haven’t had time for us the last couple days,” I said, stopping beside him. I braced for a jab, some passive-aggressive quip about being ignored, but he just looked… relieved. “You’re the new hotshot leader,” he said, voice light. “Of course you’re busy, especially with those two children.” A faint grin flickered, but it didn’t stick.

  That wasn’t it, though. Something heavier sat behind his words, dimming the charm he usually wielded like a blade. I was too tired to dance around it. Dealing with my so-called colleagues had drained me dry. “Come on, what’s on your mind?” I pressed, folding my arms. “And don’t say it’s nothing.” He sighed, pausing, his gaze drifting like he was fishing for a dodge. I leaned closer. “Please, the truth. I thought we were past protecting each other.”

  He met my eyes then, steady and serious. “It’s not about protecting you,” he said quietly. “It’s about not piling more onto the problems you’ve already got.” My chest tightened. Whatever he was holding back, it wasn’t small, and that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

  “Well, now I’m imagining every doomsday scenario for the siege, so you might as well spit it out,” I said, my tone firm, almost a demand. I crossed my arms, staring Tiberius down. He’d been dodging long enough, and I wasn’t in the mood for games.

  “It’s not about the siege,” he started, and I couldn’t hide my surprise. My brows shot up, I’d been so sure it was the looming war, the meteor showers, the trolls clawing at our gates. “When I pitched the triumvirate idea, I didn’t think they’d pick you.”

  I bristled, a spark of irritation flaring before I could stop it. “Excuse me?” I said, maybe sharper than I meant. “You don’t think I’m qualified?” My voice carried an edge, the exhaustion of the past days bleeding through.

  “No, no,” he said quickly, waving his hands like he could swat the thought away. “You’re amazing, it’s not that.” He hesitated, his eyes flickering away, and I could tell there was more he wasn’t saying.

  “You planning to keep me in suspense all night?” I pressed, leaning closer. I wasn’t letting him off that easy.

  He sighed, the sound heavy, and met my gaze again. “Let’s just say, where I’m from, triumvirates didn’t last long past the crisis. And the losers? They ended up six feet underground.” His voice was low, matter-of-fact, like he was reciting some grim history lesson.

  I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. I’d been so buried in the immediate mess reinforcing walls, juggling Audemar and Torvyn, keeping the capital from crumbling, that the long game hadn’t crossed my mind. But it hit me then, cold and clear. Once one of them outmaneuvered the other, why would they keep sharing power with me? I’d be the odd one out, a loose end. “At least they made it past the crisis,” I said, forcing a smile, trying to lighten the weight sinking into my chest.

  “I’m serious,” he said, his tone grave, no trace of his usual spark.

  “I know,” I shot back, “but I’m not so easy to kill. I escaped a demi-god. That has to count for something.” I meant it half as a jest, hoping to nudge a grin out of him, but his face stayed stone-cold, not a flicker of amusement.

  “If they’re anything like the ones in my world,” he said, “they’ll have lists. People to kill, lands to seize once the war’s over. Your mother and brother will be on those lists too.” He dropped it casually, like it was just another fact, but it landed like a punch.

  “My mother has countless allies,” I started, my voice rising. “They’d never…” But he cut me off, sharp and quick.

  “And she’s pissed off just as many,” he said, unflinching. “Your mom loves lording it over everyone. Her status, her money, her connections kept her safe. But with the king dead, those ties are fraying. You’re rising now, sure, but if I’m right, you could be her undoing.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but the words stuck. He wasn’t wrong. Mother had a talent for making enemies, her sharp tongue and sharper pride cutting deep over the years. I’d seen the looks at court, the muttered grudges. Her allies were real, but so were her foes, and with the kingdom in chaos, old loyalties were crumbling fast. My new role might’ve propped her up for now, but if Tiberius was right, her name would be a liability, not a shield. My brother too, caught in the fallout.

  Stolen story; please report.

  I stared at him, the villa’s chatter fading to a dull hum around us. His warning wasn’t just about me, it was about everything I’d fought to protect. I’d been so focused on holding the line, I hadn’t seen the knives sharpening behind it. “You really think they’d go that far?” I asked, quieter now, the fight draining out of me.

  He nodded, eyes steady. “I’ve seen it before. Power doesn’t share, it takes.”

  I opened my mouth to press Tiberius further, but before I could get a word out, General Torvyn cut through the crowd toward us. “A new report’s come in from your former colleagues,” he said, his grizzled voice low but urgent. His eyes flicked between me and Tiberius, heavy with something unspoken.

  I raised a brow. The intelligence network had finally coughed up something useful. Lucien, my old boss, had taken his sweet time, but better late than never. “You got an out-of-the-way room?” Torvyn added, glancing at the chattering nobles around us.

  “There’s a guest house, far enough for some quiet,” I said, excusing myself from Tiberius with a quick kiss on the cheek. “Follow me.” I led Torvyn through the villa, weaving past the party guests, their laughter grating against the knot in my gut. Word must’ve reached Duke Audemar too. His retinue trailed us like shadows, their polished boots clicking on the stone floor. We crossed the courtyard, the night air cool against my skin, and reached the guest house. Only the three of us stepped inside, the door shutting out the rest.

  I grabbed the report from Torvyn and skimmed it, my heart sinking with every line. Audemar did the same, his faces tightening. It wasn’t just bad, it was catastrophic. The eastern flank had collapsed. I’d assumed the trolls forces had diverted their numbers to hit us at the Vyrith Expanse. But this? This meant they had more troops than we’d ever guessed, a horde big enough to shatter the east and still march on us.

  With the eastern flank gone, reinforcements from that front were a dead hope. Sure, some scattered troops might limp their way here, but we’d banked on mirroring the trolls’ playbook. Leave a token force at the eastern forts and funnel the rest to the capital. That plan was ash now. Worse, losing the east handed them the south on a platter. They could sweep around, cut off our other reinforcements, and choke our supply lines. The city housed hundreds of thousands. Without steady food and materials, a siege wouldn’t just be hard; it’d be a death sentence.

  “Who else knows about this?” Audemar broke the silence first, his voice calm but edged, like he was already scheming.

  “Us three and Lucien,” Torvyn replied, folding his arms.

  “Then keep it to people you trust,” Audemar said, his gaze flicking to me. “If this gets out, there’ll be panic. Looting. Shops destroyed.” His words left a sour taste in my mouth. Shops? That’s what he cared about first, not the lives, not the city, but his precious merchants?

  “People have a right to know,” I snapped, my hands curling into fists on the table.

  Torvyn’s jaw tightened. “If they know, some’ll abandon the city. We need every able body who can hold a sword.” His tone was flat, practical, and I hated that he was right. Panic would spark a flood out the gates. Families fleeing, soldiers deserting. If the trolls swung south and cut the roads, those runners would be easy pickings, slaughtered or starved before they hit the next city.

  “They’ll envelop us from the south,” I said, voicing the fear clawing at me. “Cut off reinforcements and supplies both.” The words hung in the air, heavy as stone.

  Silence swallowed the room. Two days of plans, walls reinforced, troops rallied, every scrap of hope we’d scraped together, crumbled to nothing. Audemar stared at the report, his polished calm cracking at the edges. Torvyn rubbed his temples, his weathered face blank. I wanted to rage at them, to demand answers, but my own mind came up empty. We’d been outplayed, outmanned, and now outflanked. The city would fall. I felt it in my bones, a cold certainty I couldn’t shake.

  I thought of the villa behind us, the laughter still drifting faintly through the walls. My brother’s entrance, Mother’s smug assurances. They didn’t know how thin the thread was, how close we teetered to ruin. I glanced at the door, half-expecting Tiberius to barge in with some wild idea to save us, like he had with the triumvirate. But he wasn’t here, and I couldn’t expect him to save us every time.

  “We need a new plan,” I said, breaking the silence, though my voice sounded hollow even to me. Neither of them answered.

  “It’s not the time for safe plans,” I said, my voice sharp, cutting through the heavy silence. “Any wild idea will do. No matter how outlandish.” I leaned forward, hands braced on the table, staring them down. We were out of options, and I wasn’t about to let them sit on their hands.

  “We need to bring this to the others,” Audemar said, his tone clipped, already shifting to strategy. “They must have something.”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t already chewed through every mad plan with your people,” I shot back, pleading more than I meant to. “You’ve got advisors, networks. Surely you’ve got backups. Just tell us what you’re holding.”

  Torvyn spoke first, his grizzled face set like stone. “If they envelop us, we can’t hold the city. It wasn’t built for long sieges. We abandon it, regroup west at Acre. Mountains and rivers surround it. We could hold there indefinitely.” His words flat and final.

  I stared at him, disbelief surging. Abandon the capital? Leave our people to the trolls’ mercy? I could already hear the screams, see the streets overrun. “If the capital falls, there’s no Malachor left,” I said, turning on him. “Sure, you might cling to some fortified rock in the west, but you’ll never take the fight back. The army’ll shrink, and we’ll be ghosts waiting to fade.”

  Audemar jumped in, his voice smooth but desperate. “Maybe we sign a peace with Ascalon separately. Tribute, trade rights, whatever they want.” He leaned back, like he’d just solved it.

  I wheeled on him, incredulous. “A treaty? Did you even read my report on the Ascalon coup? You think I made that up? They butchered their own nobles for less than you’re offering. The demi-god wants nothing short of our knees in the dirt. You think he’ll let you live if you cozy up to him?”

  Audemar’s face flushed, and he exploded, his calm shattering. “Impertinent and foolish, just like your mother!” he shouted, slamming a fist on the table. “You dare accuse me of treason? I’m trying to save the lives in this city!” I couldn’t entirely blame him. My words had bitten deep, but I didn’t flinch.

  Torvyn cut in, his voice steady, maddeningly reasonable. “What he means is that it’s easy to poke holes in our plans. I’d like to hear your backup, Alira.” His calm fanned my anger hotter. He was playing peacemaker now, after suggesting we abandon everything?

  I had nothing. Two days of no sleep, no advisors whispering in my ear like they had. I was running on fumes. They were right, though. Criticizing was the easy part. I took a deep breath, forcing my mind to settle. No point dancing around it. “The simple truth is, Ascalon has allies,” I said, my voice low but firm. “We need some of our own.”

  Torvyn frowned, skeptical. “You mean the elves? They’re too far, and they’d never help us in any real way.”

  “No, not the elves,” I said, cutting him off.

  “Then who?” Audemar snapped, his patience fraying. “There’s no one else. Mountains to the west, desert to the south.”

  “People live in those deserts,” I said, letting the words hang. “People who hate the trolls as much as we do.” It took a moment for it to sink in, their faces shifting from confusion to disbelief. The Necromancers. Fierce, scattered, no friends to Malachor, but no lovers of trolls either. It was a long shot, wild as I’d promised, but it was something.

  Audemar barked a laugh, sharp and bitter. “I take it back. You’re crazier than your mother.”

  Torvyn’s eyes narrowed, his tone icy. “And you had the nerve to scoff at our plans. What you’re suggesting is actual treason. We could execute you just for saying it.” His hand twitched toward his sword. Not a threat, not yet, but a warning.

  I didn’t back down, meeting his glare. “Call it what you want. We’re out of moves, and you know it. The tribes could hit the trolls from the south. Disrupt their envelopment, buy us time. Maybe even help us with the siege. They don’t need to love us, just hate them more.” My heart pounded, but I kept my voice steady. “You want to hang me for it? Go ahead. At least what I’m proposing might actually save this city.”

  The room went quiet again. Audemar stared at me like I’d lost my mind, and Torvyn’s swearing at himself for even considering my idea. They didn’t have to like it. Hells, I barely did, but it was our only chance. The city was slipping through our fingers, and I’d be damned if I let it go without a fight, wild or not.

  Torvyn leaned back. “Even if we entertained this madness, how would we even approach them?” he said, his voice rough with disbelief. “We’ve killed their kind for generations. Sure, we don’t march into the desert to enforce those laws anymore, but bridging that gap? It’s an insurmountable challenge, and we’ve got no time for diplomacy.”

  I let a smile creep onto my lips, the first real one I’d felt in days. “I’ve got the perfect man for the job,” I said, my tone steady, almost smug. “And they owe him, whether they know it or not.”

  What do you think of the name: Book II - Echoes of Divinity