I pause midway through writing a letter, tilting my head as a strange, muted sensation passes through the back of my mind. It’s Ollie, I think. Nervous. But he’s trying to keep me from noticing.

  “Ollie,” I think, suspicion sinking in. “What are you doing?”

  “NOTHING!” he replies immediately. “JUST, UM, PLAYING WITH MERITIS!”

  Only the Dungeon Core is worse at lying than him.

  “Is it something dangerous?” I ask, setting down my pen and focusing on his mind. I don’t want to be invasive, but I also don't want him—or Meritis—getting hurt.

  “DEFINITELY NOT,” he says firmly, and this time I can tell he’s being honest. That puts my nerves at ease a little.

  Or at the very least, he believes what he’s doing isn’t dangerous. Why is his mind so jittery with nervousness and guilt, then? Just to be safe, I decide to peak my head in, only for a moment.

  [Psionic Sense activated]

  I only activate a sense of hearing, so I can hear what’s going on without violating his privacy too much.

  “Really?” Mirzayael’s skeptical voice sounds through Ollie’s ears. “Why?”

  Ah, good. He’s with Mirzayael. He’s in good hands, then. Just as I’m about to end the spell, I hear a second voice.

  “I don’t know,” Kanin says. “That’s just how it was. Uh, at least in America. Where did Fyre say she was from?”

  “She didn’t,” Mirzayael replies.

  “IT HAS TO BE WHITE,” Ollie insists.

  “I mean, it doesn’t have to be,” Sandro adds. Wait, Sandro is here, too? “Red is popular in some cultures.”

  Mirzayael sighs. “You all are being inconsistent.”

  “Earth was pretty inconsistent,” Kanin says, his tone lilting with amusement. “But I bet you guys have a bunch of different wedding customs here, too. Wait. Do you know what cambion weddings are like?”

  [Psionic Sense ended]

  I quickly pull away, covering my mouth as I smile into my palm. Wedding customs! No wonder Ollie didn’t want me finding out. At least it’s been easy for me to learn more about Fyrethian traditions in the time I’ve spent here. Poor Mirzayael, though—if she’s trying to learn what’s common on Earth from those three, she’s unlikely to get a consensus.

  Should I talk to her about it tonight at dinner? Or perhaps she’s planning some sort of surprise. Still smiling to myself, I go back to work, though my mind feels light and far away.

  As I’m finishing up, another buzzing alarm flips on in the back of my head. This one is different, however. The Dungeon Core perks up like a roused watch dog: the Greater Detection Spell is going off.

  My breath catches, and a nervous anticipation tingles through my limbs. I open the Core’s Map Interface, hoping to pin down the intruder. A god? A champion? Blair and Shirasil tend to appear before me, so I’m never left wondering—or worrying—for long. But without that, they could be anywhere.

  I consider activating the Greater Shield spell. It’s currently linked to the Detection spell, so whoever set it off should be expelled from the city once the shield goes up.

  In theory. I’ve never had a chance to test it. But would it work as planned? What if they didn’t appear near the edge of the city, but inside the palace? What would happen if the barrier activated then? Would Fyrethians get hurt? Too many variables. My worry is mounting when I abruptly notice something in one of the chambers near the dining hall: two dots on the map in an otherwise empty room: a nereid and a cambion.

  I’m on my feet in an instant, hurrying from the study. I let out a relieved breath as I deactivate the alarm spell, but now my nerves are getting to me for an entirely different reason. Mirzayael still seems preoccupied by the conversation she’s having with Kanin, Sandro, and Ollie, which is probably for the best.

  She’s aware of my plan, but unenthused by it.

  As I round the corner to the hall of unused chambers, I can make out a light coming from a room. Unsurprisingly, this matches the one on the Core’s Map interface.

  “Hello, Lord Aquenno,” I say, stepping inside. “Lord Zetaru.”

  The champions turn to greet me.

  Zetaru is exactly as I remember her. Like Attiru and Zyneth, she has red skin and golden eyes, though unlike the other two, her horns appear to be made of gold, or are at least capped in a gold covering. Her attire is far more ornate as well, in shades of red and white with gold ties and tassels.

  She smiles faintly, inclining her head. “Lord Fyre. I admit I was not expecting an invitation to return.”

  “I’m sorry I gave that impression,” I say.

  Aquenno does not insert himself into the conversation, instead stepping back to watch the two of us converse.

  “It was not you who gave me the impression I was unwanted,” Zetaru replies. “Though I rather suspect Lord Mirzayael’s opinion of me is more reflective of Fyrethians in general than your own.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  She’s unfortunately hit the nail on the head with that one. “Generations of trauma won’t be healed overnight. But I believe they could be convinced to be open to the idea of allying with gods—especially ones not loyal to Lorata.”

  Zetaru arcs an eyebrow. “What makes you think my lord is not loyal to Lorata?”

  “Well, she hasn’t shown up here to smite us yet.” I give a pained smile. “And I doubt you failed to pass along our presence to Yua Tin.”

  The cambion silently regards me, rubbing her chin with a thumb in thought.

  Aquenno chuckles as he glances toward Zetaru. “See what I mean?”

  She waves a lazy, dismissive hand toward Aquenno, still focused on me. “What is it that you want? You already know my lord will not betray your presence to the pantheon. So why ask to speak with me?”

  “I was hoping for a bit more support than inaction,” I admit. “You and your god must agree that what was done to the Fyrethians was not right.” I gesture to Aquenno. “Blair and Shirasil also don’t wish to see us harmed.”

  Zetaru’s brows pinch in a frown. “Shirasil.” She says the name as if it tastes foul.

  “He’s been quite helpful, actually,” I say, feeling obligated to defend him. I’m not sure I would go so far as to call him friend, but whenever we speak, he seems to treat me as an equal. Not to mention, I can’t help but have a soft spot for someone who has such a hunger for knowledge. “You can’t tell me these three gods are the only ones who are resistant to violence. I may not know much about the pantheon, but I know people, and I believe there are more gods who would dislike the idea of killing our people than who would enjoy it.”

  “You’re not entirely wrong,” Zetaru admits. “But you’re missing a key point: not wanting to support Lorata is a far different thing from standing against her. While Yua Tin may be disobeying an order in keeping your presence a secret, they would not be able to defend you all. Even if they wanted to, they would not be powerful enough.”

  “Not on their own,” I say. “But what if other gods stood beside them? Shirasil, Blair—I’m sure there must be more.”

  Zetaru slowly shakes her head. “It would be a dangerous gamble. You would need at least half the pantheon to stand against Lorata to have any hope of beating her.”

  “But I don’t want to beat her,” I insist. Both of the champions blink in surprise. “I don’t want it to come to a fight. Not if I can help it.”

  “Then how precisely do you think this is going to end?” Aquenno asks.

  I hesitate. I haven’t told him about the defensive spell network we’ve developed to protect the city. As far as I know, Blair doesn’t know, either. And Shirasil… well, he’s hinted he expects me to develop something of the nature, so it’s probably safe to say he knows more than he’s letting on.

  I just don’t want to scare away the very few potential allies we have.

  “We have a way to protect the Fortress from Lorata,” I admit, deciding to risk it. If I want these people on my side, I need to start fostering trust somewhere. “A barrier that should be able to encompass the entire city. If it’s true that she won’t listen to us willingly, then we’ll just have to create that opportunity ourselves.”

  Neither Aquenno nor Zetaru appear convinced.

  “This barrier of yours,” Zetaru says. “How can you be so sure it will work? You’ve tested it?”

  Well, not against gods. We can certainly activate it at will, though I expect this isn’t the answer Zetaru is looking for. “Would you like to test it?”

  She holds my gaze for a long moment, then shakes her head. “No need for that. I can see you’re set on this path.” She looks at Aquenno next. “What is Blair’s opinion on this matter?”

  “I’m not sure my lord knows of this barrier,” he admits. “But she does seem to trust the Fyrethians. She wants to help them.”

  Zetaru’s lips twitch in the hint of a smile. “Of course she would. Well, it’s almost certain Yua Tin knows what Blair does, at this point. She always was their favorite.” The champion turns back to me. “I know my lord enough to know they will support you. But all I can do at this stage is pass on your plea to rally more gods to your cause; I can guarantee nothing.”

  “That’s all I ask,” I assure her. “Truly, thank you. If there’s anything I could do in return…”

  Zetaru smiles ruefully. “Ensuring we’re not stabbed in the back would be a good start. You seem earnest, Lord Fyre, but I am not so naive as to believe the rest of this city shares your feelings on the gods. So if we do declare ourselves an ally to your cause, it will be your responsibility to ensure the rest of your people treat us that way.”

  My mind drifts to Mirzayael. This is perhaps a bigger ask than she realizes. Or maybe she knows exactly how difficult this task will be, and this is the condition of their allyship.

  “I’ll do my best,” I say. It’s the most I can do, after all.

  Despite my promise, I’m not sure how I’ll be able to hold it. Mirzayael will be the key to convincing the rest of the Fyrethians that not all gods are our enemy. Yet, how I’m supposed to convince her remains a mystery.

  She’s changed over this last year—and that’s already impressive growth by itself. But this last step is quite a leap from where Mirzayael currently stands.

  “Fyre?” Mirzayael mentally prompts.

  I blink, looking up from my desk. The other counselors are watching me expectantly. “I’m sorry. I was distracted. What was that?”

  Dizzi laughs, which quickly turns into a yawn. As she’s been working with Kanin each night, somewhere high in the Drifting Isles, this morning meeting has become the last thing she does before heading off to bed.

  “Can’t imagine you’d have anything more important to distract you,” she teases.

  “I was discussing wedding plans,” Torim says, shooting Dizzi an annoyed look. “We should try to fit it in between planned diplomatic meetings with trade cities.”

  “Sure,” I say, looking at Mirzayael with a shrug. “I’ve no preference on dates. We could make it official today, even, if you’d like.”

  Nek makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “We won’t have nearly enough time to prepare,” he objects. “The kitchens will need days to prepare for the feast.”

  “Feast?” Mirzayael repeats.

  “I thought Fyrethian weddings were a private affair,” I add, frowning.

  “Typically, they are,” Torim says.

  Dizzi cuts in. “But everyone will want to see their leaders joined!”

  “The image is important,” Nek agrees.

  Mirzayael and I share a wince. Neither of us are exactly big on parties. Or speeches, or crowds…

  Well, I got myself into this position. I guess hosting big events just comes with the territory.

  “What do you have in mind?” I ask Torim and Nek. “If it’s not going to be like a traditional Fyrethian wedding…”

  “We’ve learned some about Earth weddings from Sandro and Kanin,” Nek says. “I think we can incorporate elements with our own traditions to make something work.” He grins. “Fyrethians will never turn down an opportunity for a feast.”

  “I guess we better talk with Yequariel about designing some new outfits,” I tell Mirzayael.

  She dips her head in agreement. “I may already have some ideas, actually. I’m told a white dress is standard.”

  I laugh at the faint reluctance in her tone; she’s not big on dresses. “Not practical,” she typically says. “Loose cloth runs the risk of getting tangled with a weapon—or my legs.”

  “I assure you, those are not a requirement,” I tell her. “Besides. I think it’s time to create our own traditions.”

  leave a rating or review to help the book gain some momentum, it would be much appreciated! Starting tomorrow, the ebook for Book 1 will also be . And of course if you have KU, you can find the book there as well. As always, thanks for reading <3

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