Elana stood at the centre of the council chamber, the cacophony of noble voices swelling around her.

  The air was thick with the heat of too many bodies, the mingled scents of perfume and sweat cloying in her nostrils.

  She kept her spine straight, her face a mask of calm authority, even as the currents of tension and ambition swirled around her.

  “The law is clear—the chosen daughter must assume the throne immediately!” Baron Gerlach’s voice boomed from her left as his fist struck the council table with a thud that reverberated through the stone floor.

  “In times of crisis, the military council has precedence,” General Eberhard said, his gruff tones sharp with urgency.

  Lady Sybilla’s silk sleeves whispered as she gestured. “But succession is dictated by the King.”

  Lord Straus laughed. “A regency council until the succession can be properly—”

  “The border lords should have primary say in such matters,” Baron Kessler interrupted, his voice tinged with the accent of the northern marshes.

  “The southern provinces will not accept military rule,” Lady Sybilla said.

  Elana’s fingers tightened around the arms of her chair, the polished wood smooth beneath her palms. She took a slow breath, focusing on the weight of her robes and the press of her coronet against her brow.

  “My lords.”

  The chamber quieted, shifting bodies and indrawn breaths replacing the clamour of voices. Elana felt the weight of their attention settle on her.

  “We cannot rush to fill a void while its edges are still undefined,” she said. “We must first understand the nature of this attack, its perpetrators, and its implications.”

  “And while we wait?” Lord Darius’s voice slid into the silence. “While we dither with investigations, our enemies gather strength?”

  Elana turned her head towards him, her eyes finding his face after a moment. “Strength built on haste crumbles at the first test,” she said, holding his gaze.

  When he gave no response, she took a breath, her shoulders relaxing a fraction as she addressed the wider chamber. “I propose a three-day period of formal mourning, during which the council will gather evidence and prepare recommendations for—”

  A sudden commotion at the chamber doors cut her off. The rasp of wood against stone, the quick tread of light feet on the tiles. Elana turned, her brow furrowing as she tried to place the sound, to match it to a face or a name.

  “What is this?” Lord Darius asked.

  Elana didn’t answer. She was already reaching into the pocket of her robes, her fingers finding the smooth weight of her alchemical orb and the cool metal of her magnifier.

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  The footsteps came closer, faltering slightly as they approached her chair. A court page, and a young one at that. She could hear the nervous hitch in his breathing, smell the sour tang of his sweat.

  “Your Highness. A message. From the gates.”

  Elana held out her hand, palm up. A moment later, the crisp edges of a sealed parchment brushed against her skin. She closed her fingers around it, then dismissed the page with a nod.

  Bending her head, she shook the alchemical orb. A subtle warmth bloomed against her palm as the orb began to glow.

  She held it over the parchment, the heat of its light a gentle pressure on her skin. With her other hand, she raised the magnifier to her eye.

  The words swam into focus, shimmering slightly in the orb’s golden light. Elana read them quickly, her lips moving silently as she deciphered the ornate script.

  “A Molotok envoy arrives at the palace gates. They demand an immediate audience.”

  Indrawn breaths rippled through the chamber.

  Elana set the magnifier and orb down before her.

  Beneath the council table, her hands clenched into fists, her nails biting into her palms.

  Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, a warning delivered in the privacy of his study. “Never underestimate them,” he’d said. “A wolf in silks can still tear you apart.”

  She smoothed the parchment with fingers that did not tremble, her diplomatic mask slipping into place once more.

  This was no coincidence. The timing was too precise, the demand too bold. Whether Molotok sought to exploit the chaos or deny involvement, their presence now was a calculated move in a game whose rules she was still learning.

  “My lords.” She rose to her feet, the heavy silk of her robes whispering against her chair. “We will reconvene at sunset. Until then, I ask for your discretion. The Kingdom’s enemies must not see us divided.”

  For a moment, the chamber was silent. Then the scrape of chairs and the rustle of clothing filled the air as the nobles began to file out.

  Elana remained standing, her head high and her shoulders straight, as they passed her one by one.

  Fragments of hushed conversation reached her ears, snatched phrases that hinted at the storm brewing beneath the surface.

  “This reeks of Molotok’s meddling,” Lord Darius said.

  “The southern lords will use this to stall any succession,” Lord Straus added.

  “If the military seizes control, we’ll be no better than…” This from Lady Sybilla, whose words faded as she moved out of earshot.

  Elana waited until the last footsteps faded and the great doors thudded shut. Then, and only then, did she allow her shoulders to slump, her head to bow just a fraction.

  The chamber was empty now.

  She took a deep breath and walked to the side door, trailing her hand along the edge of the council table.

  Velten waited for her in the antechamber. “What have they sent us?”

  “An envoy. Demanding an immediate audience.”

  “Bold.”

  “And dangerous.” Elana's fingers tightened around the parchment. “If they think we’re fractured, they’ll press for concessions. If we refuse to meet, it’ll look like weakness.”

  Velten was silent for a moment, the only sound the soft rasp of his claws against the stone floor. “So you meet them. With steel, not silk.”

  “With both,” Elana corrected, subtly smiling. “Strength, tempered by diplomacy.”

  “You have the right of it, Elana.”

  “I will meet this envoy within the hour. Let’s see what they have to say.”

  The Kingdom might be cracked, but she would not let it shatter.

  Thanks for reading!

  Tensions are rising in the council chamber, and now a Molotok envoy arrives at this critical moment!

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  And how do you think Elana will handle the diplomatic challenge ahead?

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