Lenora sat at the table with Vambasta, Ace, Lewd, Vespera, and Vemi.

  The mess hall buzzed around them—too many voices trying to pretend the castle wasn’t holding its breath.

  In the back of Lenora’s mind, Pyro spoke like a spark in dry grass.

  You know my sister is driving that mouse girl nuts.

  Lenora ignored the comment and looked at Vambasta instead.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  Vambasta answered bluntly.

  “Queen Seraphine wouldn’t let her dragon girl go visit her family, so I offered to take her place protecting her until she gets back.”

  Vemi shot her sister a worried look.

  “Sis… remember your powers are only just returning. Don’t overdo it.”

  The giant pink wolf scoffed.

  “I’m fine, I promise. You worry too much, Vemi.”

  Vemi didn’t look convinced.

  “I worry because you’re my sister,” she said. “What would our brother and our other two sisters say if they found out you were beaten out of your alpha form?”

  A flash of memory hit them both—

  Mk2 exchanging blows with Vambasta.

  Mk2 knocking her out of her alpha state.

  Vambasta trembling after, scared in a way she hated anyone seeing.

  Vambasta’s fur bristled.

  “I’m going to get payback when I see that doll,” she growled. “I’ll break it into pieces.”

  She slammed her fist into the table.

  Wood cracked.

  A hole punched clean through.

  Vespera exhaled slowly, watching the tension climb.

  “I don’t know what’s happening in this empire,” she said quietly. “But the magic here feels wrong.”

  Her gaze drifted toward the castle interior—toward the wing Vaeloria had claimed.

  “I haven’t seen Derpy since the Elven Queen took him… and Riven… to her chambers.”

  Lewd sat silently, rubbing at her red hair until strands came loose from stress.

  Worried about Derpy.

  Angry with him.

  Angry with herself.

  Vemi gently placed a furry paw on her arm.

  “Lewd… are you okay?”

  Lewd blinked back to the present.

  “I’m okay,” she said softly.

  Then, after a beat:

  “Just… hurting.”

  Lenora and Ace exchanged a glance.

  Lenora leaned forward.

  “Lewd… burying your feelings won’t fix anything. When you see Derpy again, you should talk to him.”

  Lewd stiffened.

  “I said I’m fine.”

  She stood abruptly, clutching Blight Vain to her chest, and left the table.

  Pyro murmured again in Lenora’s mind.

  Should you go after her?

  Lenora stood.

  “Excuse me.”

  She left to follow.

  Ace sighed and rose too.

  “I need to report to Queen Seraphine now that she’s here.”

  She turned toward Vespera—

  But a familiar voice cut in, bright and wrong.

  “Well, if it isn’t the dragon who took care of me… and calls me her sister now.”

  A tiny figure rolled into view with a jester’s grace—fast, playful, and dangerous in the way lightning is dangerous when it crawls up your spine.

  Hina.

  Only 4'9. A cow-girl jester built for agility and chaos.

  Her horns were uneven on purpose—one thick and heavy with a faint pink sheen, the other tinted green like jade under candlelight.

  Her hair refused to obey one color: dark at its core, strands shifting—green near the roots, pink at the ends.

  She wore a black jester dress striped in pink and green, cut for movement, not modesty.

  A spiked collar hugged her neck.

  Matching spiked cuffs wrapped her wrists.

  A tiny cuff circled her cow tail near the tuft—like even her tail had been decorated with danger.

  Her smile was the worst part.

  Wide. delighted. like she’d just found her favorite toy.

  She covered her mouth with one hand and giggled, eyes gleaming.

  “Sit,” she said sweetly. “Let’s catch up. I’m dying to meet your dragon friend.”

  Her eyes slid to Vespera.

  “She looks like a fun toy.”

  Ace planted a hand on her hip.

  “Hello, Princess,” Ace said evenly. “I assume you’re here with your mother?”

  Hina twirled.

  “Indeed! When I heard you were here, I just had to come say hello.”

  Sir Reginal rushed up behind her, breathless.

  “Ge— Hina! I told you not to wander off. Your mother entrusted you to me, and if you step out of line, I will discipline you.”

  Hina rolled her eyes.

  “I only came to greet Ace,” she said, voice sugar-sweet. “She and her queen—her dragon sister—fed me dragon’s milk all those years. I wanted to thank them.”

  Vespera’s stare snapped to Ace.

  “You fed a non-dragon… dragon’s milk?”

  Heat flared in Vespera’s chest.

  Then a remembered rule—sharp as a contract clause—cut across it.

  Not here. Not in cities. Not past seventy-five.

  Derpy’s rule. Derpy’s boundary. A leash she’d accepted because she’d agreed he mattered.

  Hina moved.

  So fast the air barely had time to notice.

  She leapt onto the table and crouched inches from Vespera’s face.

  “Aww… what’s wrong, dragon girl?” she cooed. “Did my sister Ace do something she shouldn’t?”

  Ace’s hand sparked with pink electricity.

  “Hina,” Ace said through a strained smile, a vein popping at her temple. “Why are you causing trouble? Especially with my elder sister here.”

  Hina tilted her head, smile twisting.

  “Elder sister?” she echoed. “I thought I was your sister.”

  Her eyes glittered.

  “And Queen—the younger dragon—was your sister.”

  Her gaze slid toward Vespera, suddenly flat.

  “…I guess I’ll just remove the threat.”

  She began to transform—

  SMACK.

  Sir Reginal struck the back of her head.

  At the same moment, Ace delivered a controlled electric shock—precise, not cruel.

  “OW!” Hina yelped, stopping instantly.

  Sir Reginal grabbed her collar.

  “That is enough.”

  He turned sharply to Vambasta and Vemi.

  “You are requested in the throne room. Queen Seraphine wishes to see you. There is a special visitor waiting.”

  They nodded.

  Then he looked at Ace, stern.

  “And you—just because you helped raise Princess Hina does not mean you discipline her. That is my duty.”

  Ace folded her arms.

  “Then do your job,” she said flatly. “She almost went berserk.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “We are the Sister Seven. We carry out orders perfectly.”

  Sir Reginal scoffed and walked off, dragging Hina with him.

  Ace turned back—

  Vespera’s face was bright red.

  “Outside,” Vespera snapped. “Now.”

  Queen Seraphine sat at a small table, three elf maids serving tea.

  Her fan flicked open and closed rhythmically—like she was counting heartbeats.

  Lieam entered in a maid uniform.

  At the same moment, Seraphine’s artifact glowed—sensing a nearby calamity book.

  “Queen Vaeloria will arrive shortly,” Lieam said politely. “May we offer you elven tea or delicacies?”

  Seraphine smiled faintly.

  “No, thank you.”

  Then she asked softly, like she was asking about weather:

  “Tell me… if you were kidnapped… would anyone worry?”

  Lieam’s throat tightened.

  Before she could answer—

  The doors burst open.

  Hina twirled inside and spun to her mother’s side.

  Sir Reginal followed, posture rigid.

  Then Vambasta and Vemi entered and took position behind Seraphine.

  Seraphine’s shadow rippled once… twice… then settled.

  Seraphine murmured to Orcial Vash without moving her lips.

  “Watch the maid. Do not move until I say.”

  The throne doors opened again.

  Queen Vaeloria entered.

  Not hurried.

  Not flustered.

  In control.

  Derpy entered beside her—collared, guarded, and too controlled, half a step behind like the leash was invisible until it wasn’t.

  Behind Vaeloria came Amy, hat tipped low.

  Lyn followed, staff in hand.

  Lirael and Sylara trailed behind them, arguing as usual.

  Vaeloria sat on her throne.

  Then she gestured to the empty seat beside her—her husband’s chair.

  “Sit,” she commanded Derpy.

  Derpy didn’t move.

  Vaeloria’s voice turned cold.

  “I am not asking. I am commanding.”

  The collar flared.

  Derpy’s body betrayed him.

  He was forced into the seat.

  Vemi’s hand snapped to Vambasta’s tail—warning, grounding.

  “We are not in our territory,” Vemi murmured. “Pack law does not apply here.”

  Both queens locked eyes.

  The air itself tightened.

  Derpy looked across the room—

  And saw it.

  Riven’s old artifact—the one Seraphine took back in Book 2, after Lyra Shadowbloom’s spell forced it out of Riven during the fight with Lady Theron, the Blue Knight.

  It sat in Seraphine’s hand like bait.

  A whisper slid through Derpy’s mind.

  Not Celica.

  Not Sinister.

  Something else.

  Riven needs that book.

  Derpy’s fingers twitched once against the armrest.

  The collar warmed.

  The room noticed.

  Tension filled the throne room—

  the moment before the storm.