Kaelen's POV.
I stood on the ramparts of the inner keep, my face covered in a damp cloth.
"The wind is shifting, Regent," Torin said, his voice raspy. "The fires in the north are spreading toward the grain stores. If we don't send the water soon, we'll starve before the month is out."
"Let them burn," I said. "The North declared for Hecate. Every farm, every granary, and every orchard that flies the New Fang banner is to be razed. I want a scorched-earth perimeter fifty miles deep."
"Highness, the refugees... they're piling at the South Gate," Torin said, his eyes pleading. "Thousands of them. They're fleeing the fires you started. If we don't open the gates, they'll be crushed against the stone."
"The gates stay shut," I snapped. "Hecate has spies in every crowd. We open that gate for 'mercy,' and we let the knife into our throat. Let them wait in the fields."
"They're calling for the Emperor," Torin whispered. "They're shouting that you've bewitched him. They say the 'Blue Moon Demon' is burning the world to warm his own hands."
"Let them talk. Fear is a better wall than granite."
I turned and walked back into the council chamber. Fenrir was there, but he wasn't at the table. He was sitting on the floor in the corner, staring at a small silver hair ribbon, the only thing they had recovered from the Citadel. He hadn't spoken to me since the night Lyra died.
"The Northern blockade is holding," I said, looking at him. "Hecate's ground forces are retreating toward the coast. We've won the district, Fenrir."
Fenrir didn't look up. "You didn't win a district, Kaelen. You created a graveyard. Do you hear them?"
"Hear who?"
"The people outside the walls," Fenrir said, his voice hollow. "The ones you're letting starve. They aren't screaming for Hecate anymore, they're screaming for your head. They fear you more than the rebels. And they should."
"I did what was necessary to keep the crown on your head!" I shouted, the frustration finally snapping. "If I hadn't burned that district, we'd be hanging from the battlements right now!"
"Maybe that would have been better," Fenrir said, finally looking at me. His eyes were bloodshot. "At least then, my sister would be alive. At least then, I wouldn't have to look at you and see a monster."
"I am the monster you needed!" I stepped toward him, but he flinched away. The bond in my chest, once a warm hum, was now a jagged, freezing void.
"I don't need a monster," Fenrir whispered. "I need my life back. And you took it."
The heavy doors to the chamber burst open. General Marcus, one of the few high-ranking Alphas who had remained loyal, marched in.
"Regent. Emperor," Marcus said, his voice hard.
"Report, General," I commanded.
"The Third and Fifth Legions have laid down their arms," Marcus said.
I froze. "What?"
"They refuse to fire on the refugees," Marcus continued. "And they refuse to carry out the scorched-earth orders in the North. They say they swore an oath to protect the Iron Fang, not to assist in its cremation."
"That is mutiny," I hissed. "Arrest the commanders. Decimate the ranks if you have to."
"There are no commanders to arrest, Highness," Marcus said, stepping closer. "They've all joined the ranks. And they aren't just laying down their arms. They've turned their pikes toward the palace."
Fenrir let out a soft, broken laugh from the corner. "You see, Kaelen? You pushed them too far. You thought you could rule with nothing but a blade, but even a blade needs a hand to hold it. And the hands are tired of the blood."
"Torin!" I shouted. "Where is the City Guard?"
Torin entered the room. He stood by the door, his hand resting on his sword, his eyes fixed on the floor. "The Guard has opened the South Gate, Regent. They're letting the refugees in. And the refugees are armed with whatever they could find."
"You disobeyed me?" I asked, a cold dread settling in my stomach.
"I'm a soldier of the Empire, Highness," Torin said softly. "Not a butcher for the Blue Moon."
"Get out," I said, my voice trembling with rage. "All of you. Get out!"
They left. Only Fenrir remained, still sitting in the shadows with that silver ribbon.
"You're alone now, Kaelen," Fenrir said. "The 'Prince of Ash' has run out of things to burn."
I walked to the window. Outside, the roar of the crowd was rising. Thousands of torches were moving toward the palace gates. And at the front of the line, I saw my own soldiers.
Suddenly, the floor beneath us shook. A massive explosion rocked the foundation of the palace.
"The powder stores," I muttered.
I looked at the gate. The heavy iron doors were being pulled open from the inside.
The palace servants, the guards, the very people I had tried to protect, were ushering the mob into the courtyard.
"They're coming for you," Fenrir said, standing up slowly. He picked up his sword, but he didn't point it at the door, he pointed at me. "And I don't think I can stop them."
"I don't need you to stop them," I said, drawing my twin blades.
The sound of the mob reached the stairs, I could hear their chants.
The doors to the council chamber shattered.
But it wasn't the mob that entered first. It was a group of black-clad assassins, their faces covered.
"The Shadow Wolves," I realized.
"Hecate's elite."
Hecate had used the people's fear of me to mask her final infiltration.
One of the assassins stepped forward, pulling back his hood. It was Silas.
"The people really do hate you, Linus," Silas said, with a grin on his face. "It was so easy to talk them into this. One spark, and the whole city burns itself down for us."
He looked at Fenrir. "Move aside, Majesty. The Queen Mother only wants the boy. Give him to us, and we'll tell the crowd to go home."
Fenrir looked at me, he looked at the blades in my hands, then at the blood-stained floor and at the silver ribbon in his hand.
Then, he dropped the ribbon.
He stepped in front of me, his sword raised. "If you want him, you have to go through the Emperor."
"Fenrir," I whispered. "I thought you hated me."
"I do," Fenrir said, not turning around. "But you're my monster. And I'm not done with you yet."