Chapter 100 The Throne Watches

Chapter 100 The Throne Watches

The Hall of Ashes had never felt smaller. Hundreds of witches filled the chamber under the broken dome, voices rising and falling as dozens of covens fought over one question that threatened to split their world. Who would take the Empty Throne.

Three banners hung from the stone walls now. Silver flame for Elara. Crimson serpent for Mira. Black raven for Varron. Three factions. Three futures. One seat. Elara stood under her silver banner with her shoulders square and her face controlled, but exhaustion was digging in. The accusations would not end. Mira blamed her for Hollow District. Varron blamed her for the west falling apart. The neutral covens blamed her for existing, because wherever she went, conflict came.

Across the room Mira watched her. Hate would have been easier. Mira looked at her like a general looks at ground, measuring, patient, sure. Then Mira smiled, small and cruel and meant to be seen. You look tired, Elara, she said loud enough for all to hear. Perhaps ruling is harder than taking loyalty with fear. Whispers rose. Elara’s jaw tightened. Before she could answer, Mira went on. Tell me, how many have died since you rose. Fifty. One hundred. Whole districts burn behind you and yet you always walk out. Silence fell. Worse than shouting because some of them were listening. She saw fear, doubt and suspicion in their eyes.

Perhaps the throne is not cursed, Mira said softly. Perhaps it demands payment. Her gaze locked on Elara. And perhaps you decided the cost should not be yours. The charge hit like a spell, because a part of Elara feared it. How many had died for choosing her. How many more would. She opened her mouth, and a hand brushed hers under the table. Cael. She had not seen him move. His fingers closed around hers, firm and steady. For the first time that day she could breathe.

Mira saw. Of course she did. Her eyes dropped to their hands and the smile vanished. Something colder took its place. Something sharp. Interesting, Elara thought. So it was not only power with Mira anymore. That made her worse. Ambition could be bargained with. Jealousy could not.

The council ended badly. Three covens left neutrality for Mira. One went to Varron. None came to Elara. Not one. By night the fortress city settled and Elara stood on the western balcony over the valley lights. Her side was shrinking. Mira was winning. Maybe not the war yet, but the story of it.

Footsteps came behind her. You are becoming predictable, she said. Cael stepped beside her. You always come here to think. I did not know anyone noticed. I do. Simple words. Dangerous words. The quiet between them was not hard. Below, the city shone in moonlight while thunder moved beyond the mountains. At last she spoke. Do you ever regret it. Regret what. Choosing me. That caught him. Be honest, she said. Everyone says you ruined your name for me. Your ties. Your sway. Your future. Sometimes I think they are right.

He stared, then laughed once in disbelief. My future, he said. You think I had one before you. The words startled her. He moved closer. Close enough to see the tiredness in him too. Close enough to hear his heart over the wind. I spent years fighting other people’s wars, he said. I guarded leaders I did not respect and causes I did not believe. Then I met you. Her chest tightened. You make bad choices, she said. That is not romantic. You frighten me, he answered. What. You choose in ways I cannot read, he said. You make me care about things I taught myself not to care about. Another step. If someone made me choose between this kingdom and you, do not finish it, she said. His face did not change but you know the answer. She did. So did everyone else and someday someone would use it. Maybe Mira already had.

Neither moved. Neither spoke. Then she reached first. Her fingers took his coat. When she kissed him the world fell away. No council. No enemy. Only heat and rain-wind and peace in the middle of ruin. When they parted he put his forehead to hers. We are making another mistake. Probably. This will make it worse. I know. Neither pulled back.

Morning proved him right. By sunrise the fortress knew. Someone saw them. Someone talked. By breakfast rumor was claim. By midday claim was weapon. The Northern Tide Coven withdrew. Their leader said it to the council. We will not follow a ruler bound by personal ties. Another left. Then another. Mira watched each one with barely hidden pleasure. When the last ended she stood. How sad, she said. Love ruins kingdoms. Elara wanted to answer. Instead she watched three more stones slide from her side to neutral. Cael saw it. For the first time she saw guilt in him. Real guilt. Because this time the harm was his, or theirs, and that hurt worse.

Night came with a storm. Lightning broke over the mountains. Rain struck the windows. Elara sat with troop maps when three sharp knocks came. Mira’s signal. Every instinct said no. She opened the door anyway. Mira alone. No guards. No steel. Only a sealed letter. I came to make an offer, Mira said. I am not joining you. Not that offer, Mira said, and held it out. Curiosity won. Elara opened it and read the first line and stopped breathing. A list of names, dates, places, meetings, secret councils and private talks. Every closed session of her faction in the last month. Someone inside was feeding Mira. Someone trusted. Someone close.

Who gave you this, she asked. If I say, you will not believe me, Mira said. Say it. Mira leaned in and whispered the name. Elara went white. No. Oh yes. You lie. I wish I did. Thunder cracked. Mira stepped back. One more thing. Elara looked up. The traitor is not my only surprise. What do you mean. Your commander is gone from his rooms, Mira said. Twenty minutes ago. Elara froze. What. Perhaps you should ask where Cael goes at night, Mira said, and left.

Elara stood. One betrayal. One disappearance. Two questions that could not be. Then a scream tore through the fortress. Not outside. Inside. Near. She ran to the window and looked down to the courtyard. Her blood went cold. In the rain, among bodies, with a red sword in hand, stood Cael. At his feet, alive when she had seen her die weeks ago, knelt the traitor she herself had condemned. The woman looked up at Elara’s window and smiled.