"I think the king is going to be fucking dead soon."

  Valeria dropped the sentence into the middle of dinner as casually as one might comment on the weather.

  The words did not simply nd.

  They detonated.

  For a brief moment, the only sound on the terrace was the faint clink of silver against porcein and the distant murmur of the ke and river below. Even the twin moons seemed to hang still in the sky.

  "Lady Valeria!" Arina snapped, her chair scraping sharply against stone as she straightened. "You must not speak of His Majesty like that!"

  Her voice rang across the terrace, sharp and indignant, and the atmosphere shifted yet again—like a bde being drawn halfway from its sheath.

  Elena and I, however, did not react outwardly. We continued eating, slow and deliberate. My spoon moved through the glossy bck risotto, lifting grains stained like midnight. Elena tore a small piece of bread, dipping it lightly before taking a calm bite.

  But our eyes and ears were attentive.

  Valeria swirled her wine zily, amber eyes glinting behind her ivory half-mask.

  "He is not "our" king," she replied smoothly. "I am an independent lord. Remember?"

  She sipped her wine as if she had merely corrected a minor social misunderstanding.

  "Even so," Arina pressed, her voice tight with emotion, "he is still the merciful king of Hyfelt. You should not speak of him in such a disgraceful manner!"

  She reached for her vodka and downed another gss in one determined motion, as if liquid courage would steady her argument.

  "Merciful?" Valeria's tone sharpened ever so slightly. "You should ask him"—she gestured lightly toward me with her gss—"how the kingdom's royalty handled the pox pgue. And the goblin infestation."

  Her eyes turned toward me fully now.

  All three women looked in my direction.

  I set my spoon down.

  "They handled it badly," I answered simply.

  There was no embellishment. No anger. Just truth.

  Valeria smiled in satisfaction.

  "Yes. Exactly. They handled it very badly. Damn them and their royal incompetence."

  She continue.

  Arina froze, then something shifted inside her.

  "Yes! They handled it terribly!" she burst out suddenly, smming her gss down with surprising force. "People died because of their deys! Entire vilges abandoned! Damn the royalty!"

  It was such a sharp reversal that I nearly dropped my spoon.

  A moment ago she had defended the king.

  Now she was cursing him louder than even Valeria, Still I don't know why my anwser affect her opinion that's much.

  The tension that had coiled tightly around the table loosened—but not into calm. It transformed instead into a loud, heated unraveling.

  Voices overpped.

  Wine flowed more freely.

  Vodka flowed even more.

  Compints surfaced one after another.

  High taxes levied on commoners and nobles alike.

  Royal officials demanding payment even during famine.

  Pgue quarantines enforced too te, too harshly, or sometimes not at all.

  Court ws bent around royal blood so frequently that they barely functioned as ws anymore.

  Trade restrictions imposed without understanding local economies.

  Military drafts demanded while goblins still roamed unchecked.

  Most of it, though angry, was understandable. Political frustration. Noble dissatisfaction. Grievances yered over years.

  Then Arina spoke again.

  And this time, the tone changed.

  "They are a bunch of aliens who stole our nd!" she shouted, her words slightly slurred but fierce. "Incestuous half-blooded tyrants!"

  Her vodka gss struck the table with a hollow thud.

  The word lingered.

  Alien.

  "Wait," I said slowly, brow furrowing. "Alien?"

  Every pair of eyes except Elena's turned toward me.

  The expressions on their faces were almost identical—surprise, confusion, perhaps even suspicion.

  "You… don't know?" Valeria asked carefully.

  Elena chewed her bread calmly before speaking.

  "Sir John mentioned he suffered memory loss after surviving the pgue," she said, voice steady. "It would be helpful if you two expined the origin of the monarchy to him."

  Valeria and Arina exchanged a gnce.

  Then they both nodded.

  Arina leaned forward first, though she paused to refill her vodka before beginning.

  "Thousands of years ago," she started, "this nd was chaos. Warlords everywhere. No unity. Constant fighting."

  She took another drink.

  "Then the fae came."

  Valeria continued where Arina's expnation wavered.

  "They descended from beyond the mythical forests, magical and powerful"

  "They united the nd," Arina added, gesturing with her gss. "Not with diplomacy. With magic."

  "They conquered, yes," Valeria corrected softly. "But they also reorganized. Built cities. Established structure."

  "They mingled with the natives," Arina said bluntly. "Bred with them. That's how the royal line began."

  Valeria nodded once.

  "The royal family are half-fae. Half-elf, to be precise. Not fully immortal. Not fully elven. But long-lived. Gifted."

  "And humans," Arina muttered, "cannot use magic."

  "But they can," Valeria finished.

  I leaned back slowly.

  "So the only reason people respect them," I said, thinking aloud, "is because they wield magic humans cannot."

  "Precisely," Valeria replied.

  "And because they live long enough to consolidate power over generations," Elena added quietly with a nod.

  I considered this.

  Then the thought left my mouth before I fully processed it.

  "Then why don't we just kill them and repce the crown with a human one?"

  The silence that followed was heavier than any before it.

  Arina's face drained of color.

  "Wh-what you just said… that is straight up rebellion," she whispered.

  Elena shifted slightly, unease breaking her usual composure.

  "I may not favor the idea of half-fae rulers," she admitted, "but open rebellion would drown this nd in blood."

  Valeria set her wine gss down carefully.

  "And without proper cim to the throne" she added calmly, "No noble would support you"

  She folded her hands on the table. "Besides. The old king is already dying." She continue.

  The table fell quiet again.

  We all waited.

  I was the one who broke the silence.

  "How do you know he is dying?"

  Valeria's expression changed.

  The pyfulness faded.

  Her voice lowered.

  "The st time I had an audience with the royal family was years ago. I was negotiating Venetia's independence."

  Her amber eye seemed distant for a moment, recalling.

  "The king was already ill, pale and weak. He barely spoke."

  "The princess handled negotiations," she continued. "Not the prince."

  "The prince is the heir, isn't he?" I asked.

  "Yes," Valeria replied. "But he is… unstable and maybe an idiot, he called the idea of city independence 'beneath royal dignity.'"

  "So he refused to attend," I said.

  "He dismissed it entirely," Valeria corrected. "Which is why his younger sister took control."

  "And she granted your independence?" I pressed.

  "Yes."

  "In exchange for?"

  Valeria smiled slowly.

  "In exchange for clearing a significant portion of the kingdom's debt."

  She paused deliberately.

  "And?"

  All three of us leaned forward slightly.

  "And," she said, savoring the moment, "my financial support in the coming civil war."

  The word settled over the terrace like frost.

  Civil war.

  The twin moons gleamed overhead.

  The starry skies were twinkling.

  And suddenly, dinner felt very small compared to what was coming.