Page 57 of Fallen Nocturne

“The Fae King will use this weapon against us?” Lady Tierra whispers, disbelief hollowing her voice.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.” I push past the fear and continue. “Perhaps he will hold it in reserve until his forces begin to lose, or use it as a final measure to force our surrender.”

“We’re doomed.” This comes from a younger commander I don’t know well. His voice is flat, hopeless. “If what you’re saying is true, we can’t win. We can’t even fight.”

“We have to fight,” Rainer says sharply. “We don’t have a choice.”

“Fight with what?” The commander’s voice rises. “You just said it yourself. This thing can erase a city in five seconds! What defense do we have against that?”

“There has to be something—” someone starts.

“There’s nothing!” Lord Kharlis stands abruptly, his face red. He is the Aldarelf of the Northern Highlands. “Don’t you understand? Her Highness just told us we’re facing a weapon that can’t be stopped!”

“Sit down, Kharlis,” Rainer warns.

But Kharlis only grows louder, feeding on the fear filling the chamber. “No, I won’t sit down. This is exactly what I’ve been saying. We’re being led to slaughter by a queen who doesn’t know what she’s doing!”

My hands clench into fists.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, you lack the wisdom to know when a battle is lost before it’s fought!” Kharlis’s voice echoes through the chamber. “This is madness. We should be negotiating while we still can. We should be seeking peace, not preparing to sacrifice what remains of our kingdom.”

Yes, peace is what I want, what I have always wanted. If words could end this war, I would cross half the world to speak them.

“Peace?” Lord Wesley stands, his voice sharp. “The Fae King doesn’t want peace. He wants conquest and submission.”

“Then we submit!” Kharlis throws his hands up. “Better to live as subjects than die as ash!”

“You coward—” Lord Nemarion starts.

“I’m a realist!” Kharlis turns on them. “I’m the only one here willing to say what we’re all thinking. This weapon, Sanguisyl. It’s over. The war is over before it’s begun.”

Kharlis turns back toward me, his mouth twisting with contempt. “And this is the queen expected to save us?” He points at me, his finger shaking. “Our young, inexperienced queen doesn’t have what it takes to lead us through this.”

“Enough, Kharlis.” Lord Ctibor rises halfway from his chair, one hand braced against the table.

“While our kingdom burns and our people die, what does our queen do?” Kharlis is shouting now, his face purple with rage. “She harbors Fae deserters.”

“Those Fae warriors defected,” I say, my voice cold. “They were betrayed by their king—”

“So they claim!” Kharlis slams his fist on the table. “You believe them because you’re too soft.”

The room erupts. Some defend me, some agree with Kharlis, everyone shouting over each other.

“We should evacuate the cities—”

“And go where? If this weapon can destroy—”

“Order!” Seneschal Kearne roars.

The chaos continues. I stand there, frozen, watching my council tear itself apart. The fear and despair I’ve brought them fracture into anger and blame.

Kharlis continues over everyone, mocking my age, my judgment and every decision I have made since taking the throne. “Perhaps if Her Highness spent less time sheltering traitors and more time learning how to rule, we would not be...”

The words die in his throat. His mouth remains open, but no sound emerges.