“If I might make a suggestion,” Rokath started, shifting in his seat. “To sell the idea to the nobles of integrating the army, we can say the best fuck you to the Angels is to allow our powerful magic-wielding females to overwhelm them on the battlefield. Since so many already believe them to be second-class citizens, it will stroke the egos of many Nayúr.”

Xannirin opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Rokath’s satisfaction at rendering his cousin speechless drifted down our bond. I smothered a smug expression.

“Let me put it this way. If we let them fight too, we show the Angels just how powerful we really are, that we don’t need males to defeat all their forces. We raze our way through the northern part of their realm, setting each city ablaze.”

Rokath paused, shooting me a wink. I sent him a devious grin back. Oh, I really liked his reasoning here. Even if Xannirin wanted to refuse, he couldn’t with this logic.

“Then we surround Sivy and execute the Koron and Korona. You sit on both thrones, you give the Angels one less reason to hate you, one less reason for them to resist your rule, and then every fucking day you show them we are the superior race.”

Xannirin’s eyes brightened. I held my breath.

Is Rokath really convincing him?

“It is an…intriguing possibility,” Xannirin finally spoke. “The nobles will likely buy into this, yes. More than anything else you’ve suggested before.”

Because, much like Xannirin, they were a bunch of self-important assholes. I’d gotten a full taste of that mentality being married to Vagach.

“Once we win a few battles, they’ll believe even more,” I pressed, determination swelling within me. Rokath gave a subtle nod, and I continued. “Most of the females Kiira brought have powerful magic. With the High Priestess as witness, everyone will believe the stories she writes back to you about the glory we are claiming for the Demons.”

“They will crave news from the front. Stories of the Szélhámos, the mate of the Halálhívó,” Kiira added in a rush. “Especially with how I write of them. It has been some time since I was able to craft stories of our mystique, Xannirin. You remember how quickly they swayed the populace before. The mythos of the Halálhívó and the Szélhámos of them will intrigue many minds.”

Xannirin rubbed his jaw, considering all the words aimed at him. “I can see it. But…” he trailed off, leveling his intense gaze on me. I narrowed my eyes on him in return, my posture stiff and defiant. “Do I have your word that you won’t use your newfound status to move against me?”

A scoff slipped out before I could stop it. My nails dug into my arms. How fucking dare he question that I’d want his Fates’ damned throne? Was that why he’d sent an assassin after me in the first place?

“For fuck’s sake, Xannirin,” Rokath snapped. “We have no designs on your seat. That was what Assyria yelled down our bond when I was moments from killing you. I have no desire to rule.”

I held up a hand to silence my mate. Then, holding the gaze of the Kral of all the Demons, I rose, splaying my hands out across the polished wood, one finger at a time. I leaned forward, lifting my lips from my teeth. “You may be the Kral, but I am the Szélhámos.”

A riot of shadow swirled around me, and I pulled Xannirin’s face to my own within the span of a breath. He paled as he beheld his reflection. I ensured I mirrored his hateful expression too. His voice came out with my next words. “Rokath could slaughter you and no one would ever know. We’d rule for millenia more, no one the wiser. I suggest you refrain from pissing either of us off if you’d like to keep your useless ass on your precious throne.”

Then, I dropped my power and eased back into my chair.

Rokath’s hungry gaze caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, but it was nothing compared to the utter distraction coming down our bond. Gravel rolled through his tone as he spoke in my mind. “I don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed. Those insults were sharper than my sword.”

“Don’t forget I can aim them in your direction anytime,” I shot back.

A dark chuckle echoed in my mind. “I never will.”

Kiira covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide her amusement, as Xannirin merely blinked at me.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, shifting in his chair like my words had set it ablaze. “All right then. You have all made your points. I will ensure the nobles believe in this story, as well as the unveiling.” He glanced sidelong at Kiira, and I recalled our conversation about her not asking for forgiveness for sending that missive. “So long as you can continue the omnipresence of us, adding Assyria to the mix now, I will do my part.”

Tension visibly bled from Kiira’s shoulders. My own chest eased too.

“Done,” Rokath and Kiira said at the same time.

Resigned, Xannirin slumped back, arms crossed.

“There’s one more thing,” Kiira added softly, twisting her long hair around her finger and securing it at the nape of her neck.

A muscle jumped in Xannirin’s jaw. “What?”

“I had another prophecy,” she stated, bringing her hands to rest on the table in front of her again.

He sat up straighter, arms dropping. “When? Of what?” His voice was laced with more enthusiasm and excitement than it had been in his entire time at the military academy thus far.

“Rokath and Assyria in the streets of Sivy. With an army of males and females at their backs.” Kiira smiled, though it wasn’t one of her warm and kind ones. No, she looked like she was moments from lunging across the table and ripping her cousin’s throat out with her sharp teeth. “So it is a good thing you chose the right side of this fight, Xannirin.”

His mouth hung open. “But I thought–”

“That the visions couldn’t change?” she finished for him.

He nodded, disbelief etched into his expression.

“As did I. But after discussing the timing with Rokath and Assyria–”

“You told them before me?” he snapped, eyes darkening.

She glared at him. “It concerned them, so yes.”

Xannirin’s fingers tightened over the polished wood. “Go on.”

“As I was saying,” she drawled, “the vision came to me shortly after Rokath chose Assyria over his soldiers. By choosing her, he changed his path. He changed all our paths.”

Is she going to tell him about hearing the word sacrifice?

I waited with bated breath for her to continue to speak. To my surprise, she left it at that. Though I was quickly learning that despite all their supposed trust in one another, none of the three ever quite revealed all they knew.

“How is that possible?” Xannirin mused, loosening his grip. Instead, he thumbed his lower lip, going deep into thought.

Would the Fates have revealed a new scene to Kiira had Xannirin continued to refuse these changes?

“The Fates are Gods. We are not, despite how we purport ourselves,” Kiira warned. “Should they wish for something to change, they possess the power for that. They were clearly working through Assyria in that moment. In all the moments before that too, especially on the day the army arrived in Stryi to conscript, I think.”

Xannirin scrutinized me again, though this time without as much contempt as before. I still didn’t offer him any less of my ire. “I am beginning to see now.”

“About fucking time,” I muttered under my breath, attention flicking to Rokath. He lounged, one ankle thrown across a knee, like this conversation was boring instead of essential to our future. His bicep flexed as he braced his head on a closed fist.

“More changes will come, Xannirin. More choices. Hopefully with less severe consequences than what I faced.” He glanced at me, our eyes locking like they had when our mate bond snapped into place. His love flooded me, easing the aches in my heart. “But they will come nonetheless. Since we do not know exactly why Kiira’s visions changed, it’s best that each of these moments be weighed with the utmost care.”