Page 72 of Fallen Nocturne

My blood runs cold.

This is more than a traitor selling scraps of information. Kharlis has formed a military alliance with our enemy.

“Sit,” one of the commanders says. “We have much to discuss.”

Kharlis takes the nearest chair. The commanders sit opposite him, placing themselves between him and the door.

“The elven queen is weak,” Kharlis begins. “She revealed Sanguisyl to the entire war council.”

The commanders exchange startled looks.

“She knows about the Red Rain?” the youngest demands.

“Landon,” the dark-haired commander says with a sneer. “The traitor must have told her.”

“He knows what Sanguisyl can do,” another mutters. “He should have kept his mouth shut.”

“And her response?” one asks.

“Evacuation plans. She’s spreading the population thin to minimize casualties.” Kharlis laughs. “As if scattering people across the countryside would do anything against Sanguisyl’s power.”

Rage builds in my chest. This traitor.

“Excellent,” the commander says. “And the troop positions you mentioned?”

Kharlis pulls out a map and begins pointing to locations.

I watch him expose every weakness we discussed in the council chamber. Defensive lines and regions filled with civilians become marks beneath his pointing finger.

The fae commanders lean forward, studying the map with interest.

“The eastern border here.” Kharlis points and taps with his finger. “There are only about three hundred soldiers. They’re expecting reinforcements next week, but if you strike before then—”

“We’ll slaughter them,” the dark-haired commander finishes.

I stare at Kharlis, waiting for some sign that the deaths of three hundred Aelfheim soldiers trouble him. He does not flinch. They are not his people in his mind, merely pieces he is willing to sacrifice for whatever they are promising him.

“In return you remember our agreement,” Kharlis reminds them. “When Aelfheim falls, I rule in your name as the sole monarch of the thirty-three regions. No Aldarelfs questioning my authority.”

“Of course.” The commander’s smile is sharp. “You’ll be king, Lord Kharlis. Enjoy it.”

They laugh. All of them.

I am shaking with fury. Arescaine’s hand finds mine in the darkness and squeezes once. A warning. Stay quiet.

I force myself to breathe slowly.

They discuss more positions and strategies. Kharlis reveals troop numbers and weaknesses in our defenses. Every word is another dagger in my kingdom’s back.

“There is one concern,” one of the commanders says after a while. “The vampire.”

My attention sharpens.

“Arescaine?” Kharlis waves dismissively. “He’s just a hired blade for the Wiolants. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you certain? We’ve heard he’s unlike any Nightwalker we’ve seen before.” The commander leans back in his chair, studying Kharlis. “Our mistress has developed a strange fixation on him.”

Kharlis hesitates. “I can have eyes on him, if that’s what you need.”