Riven stood within the veil of the stable shadows, silent and unseen. It was child's play, slipping past their senses, especially the human ones. Even the Fae girl hadn't noticed him.
He watched as Keira approached Shadowmare, her stride filled with subtle confidence.
How foolish.
The beast had killed before. Hundreds of faes. Thousands of humans. And yet there she was, arms outstretched like she meant to soothe it.
Shadowmare reared and screamed. Riven didn't flinch. But the girl did, and she stumbled back, heart hammering, fear etched in every muscle of her face. She wasn't quick, or elegant. Not like Elya.
His jaw tightened.
No, this one was rough. Untrained. Uneven. She didn't move like Elya had. Didn't speak like her. Didn't smile like her.
Riven turned away before she could regain her footing. He had no interest in watching her fail further.
He had other matters to attend to.
The council chamber was carved directly into the cliffside, a wide circle of stone and moonlight. Thirteen Fae Elders sat in half-shadow, their eyes gleaming beneath gilded hoods. Only Riven stood, the crown of thorns heavy on his head, still wet with the silver sap that never dried.
Elder Vael, oldest among them, tapped his cane once. "The humans grow arrogant again. There has been talk of them lashing out at faes again. Why continue the Treaty? Why honor it when we could end them all with a single strike?"
Another spoke, a woman with skin like marble. "Let them burn. They forget who kept the Wild Hunt leashed."
Riven's fingers twitched.
Then came the voice of General Tharos.
He didn't sit with the others. He stood, scarred from brow to jaw, one eye clouded, the other sharp as obsidian. He had short black hair and a muscular frame. His armor was layered with runes old as the land. He was one of the greatest and battle hardened warriors of the faes, his bloodthirst coming second to only Riven's.
He hated humans with passion, finding their lack of elegance and poise distasteful.
"If we strike now," Tharos said, "we will not just remind them. We will break them. The East border is soft. The mountain passes unguarded."
Murmurs rose.
Riven's voice cut through them like winter air. "There will be no war."
"Why not?" Tharos barked. "You defend these creatures, these meat-things, like they matter. Like they don't steal, lie, and betray. Was that not your lesson a century ago?"
The chamber stilled, and all eyes turned to Riven. His eyes darted to General Tharos, the crown of thorns contracting around his head as his anger increased.
His head lowered slightly. The crown of thorns shifted. "Do not speak of what you do not understand."
"I understand betrayal," Tharos growled. "And I understand weakness. You wear a crown, my prince, not a shroud."
The mist thickened.
Riven stepped forward. It was just one step, but the torches dimmed. The runes on Tharos' armor flickered. And the weight of the Crown flared like wildfire.
"I said there will be no war."
His voice was low. Terrible. The kind that silenced wars. The kind that caused them.
Tharos bowed his head, reluctant but lowered his head.
"Yes my prince." The room relaxed its breath.
Riven turned to the rest of them. "The Treaty stands. Until I say otherwise."
And then he was gone.
~
The corridors were colder as he moved through them, trailing frost behind his boots. His jaw ached from clenching, and his fingers from restraint.
He should have let Tharos bleed. He was always like that. Stepping on his authority, pushing back.
But no. Not yet. He had to be careful about it.
Riven turned the final corner toward the east wing, and stopped.
There she was again.
The human. Keira.
She walked beside Yvaine, her posture stiffer than it had been that morning. Her face was drawn, dirt smeared across her cheek. Her tunic hung awkwardly off her shoulders, stained with dust and stable grime.
And yet she still looked like her.
Like Elya.
Yvaine noticed him first and stiffened, bowing her head slightly. "Your Highness."
Keira paused, stepping back slightly and then doing as Yvaine did.
Riven let his gaze rest on her. Studying. Measuring.
He already knew her name, of course. He had known it since the scroll was burned. Since the flames had spelled it out over the basin.
But still, he asked.
"Human girl. What is your name?"
Yvaine's mouth twitched like she wanted to speak for her, but she didn't. Keira raised her chin, not defiantly, but with dignity. She looked him in the eye.
"Keira Rowen, your highness."
Her voice was low. Controlled. But beneath it, he heard the echo of rage.
This human hated him with a burning passion, and he could taste it like iron on the air. Riven tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes.
"You reek of the dead."
Keira flinched, just barely, but enough for Riven to see her eyes fill with hatred.
"Wash. And do not come before me again smelling like rot."
Then he turned and vanished into the hall, his cloak swirling like stormclouds behind him.