The Old Valerius Keep was a jagged crown of stone atop the highest peak of the North. Inside its drafty halls, a sight was unfolding that the ancestors of Aethelgard would never have believed: Rebel leaders and Royal knights were huddled over the same war map, their breath misting in the freezing air.
Alaric sat at the center, his wound bandaged but his face still pale. Beside him stood Kaia, her hand resting on the hilt of her father's old sword. Opposite them, Silas crossed his massive arms, his eyes fixed on the drawings of the capital's fortifications.
"Thorne has closed the main gates," Silas grunted, pointing a calloused finger at the map. "He's positioned his private mercenaries on the battlements. If we charge the walls, we'll be slaughtered before we even reach the inner sanctum."
"He expects a frontal assault," Alaric said, his voice raspy but steady. "He thinks I'm dead, and he thinks the rebellion is scattered. He's celebrating his coronation tonight. The palace will be filled with music, wine, and his own arrogance."
Kaia stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "The secret entrance I used to infiltrate the palace... Thorne knows about it now. He'll have it heavily guarded. But there's another way. The sewers under the royal kitchens. They're old, narrow, and smell of rot, but they lead directly into the servant's quarters."
"The sewers?" Silas made a face of disgust. "You want the King of Aethelgard to crawl through filth?"
"I've crawled through worse to stay alive," Alaric said, a grim smile touching his lips. "If it gets us inside the throne room, I'll crawl through fire."
The plan was set. Silas would lead a small group of rebels to create a diversion at the western gate, making Thorne believe the rebels were attacking in force. Meanwhile, Alaric, Kaia, and a handful of elite knights would slip through the sewers to strike at the heart of the palace.
As the sun began to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the snow, Kaia found Alaric standing alone on the battlements.
"You're thinking about the throne," she said, stepping up beside him.
"I'm thinking about what happens after," Alaric admitted, looking out toward the distant lights of the capital. "If we win tonight, I won't just be the King of the Lions. I'll have to be the King of the Wolves, too. Can a man who was built for war truly bring peace, Kaia?"
Kaia reached out, her fingers brushing against his. "A man who risks his life to save his enemy has already brought peace to the most important place—his heart. The rest is just politics."
Alaric turned to her, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "If I fall tonight, Kaia... promise me you'll lead them. Don't let Thorne destroy what we've started."
"You're not going to fall," Kaia whispered, her voice fierce. "We're going to take back your crown, and then we're going to burn the old laws together."
From the courtyard below, a horn sounded. The time for words was over. The siege of the capital had begun