Silence fell over the chamber.
Selene kept her spine straight, her expression unreadable, though her pulse hammered against her ribs. The air in the Silent Court was thick with the scent of burning oil and aged stone, but beneath it lay something darker—a quiet, waiting malice.
Veyna, the self-proclaimed ruler of the Court, studied Selene as if weighing her on a scale. Around her, the other warlords, mercenaries, and exiles whispered among themselves, their voices slithering like vipers.
A queen had walked into a den of wolves.
Cassius, standing at Selene's side, murmured, "Be ready. They don't give favors. They trade in debts."
Selene didn't flinch. "I didn't come for favors."
Veyna's golden eyes gleamed. "No, you didn't." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "You want our swords. Our armies. You ask us to defy the Order and risk what little we have."
A pause.
"And in return?"
Selene met her gaze without hesitation. "Name your price."
The warlords exchanged knowing glances. A few smirked. Others watched with cold amusement.
Veyna tapped a single, painted nail against the stone armrest of her throne. Once. Twice. Then she smiled.
"I have two prices," she said. "One in blood. One in gold."
Selene's fingers tightened at her sides. "Explain."
Veyna's smile didn't waver. "The first is simple. A war chest. Fifty thousand gold pieces to arm and pay my people."
A murmur rippled through the hall. It was a steep demand. Even at its height, Selene's kingdom had struggled to maintain that much wealth in one place.
"And the second?"
Veyna tilted her head. "The head of Lord Saren."
Selene's breath caught.
Saren. A noble loyal to the Order. A man who had once ruled part of her kingdom before betraying it. A man who now commanded one of the Order's largest legions.
Orion, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "Saren is heavily guarded. Killing him would be no small feat."
Veyna smirked. "That's why I'm not asking for something small."
Selene exhaled slowly.
A war chest she did not yet have. An assassination that could cost her everything.
And yet—
The alternative was facing the Order alone.
She turned to Cassius. "Can it be done?"
Cassius hesitated, then shrugged. "Killing a man is never impossible. But it's damn near suicidal if you do it wrong."
Veyna's expression sharpened. "Do we have a deal, little queen?"
Selene looked around the hall. Eyes watched her. Some waiting for her to fail. Others waiting to see if she would rise.
She inhaled.
Then—
"You'll have your gold," she said. "And Saren will be dead before the next moon."
A satisfied murmur ran through the Silent Court.
Veyna leaned back, her golden eyes gleaming. "Then we have an accord."
Orion's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Cassius smirked, though there was something hard in his gaze.
Selene had bought herself an army.
Now, she just had to pay the price.
As they left the hall, Selene felt the weight of her promise settle over her. Fifty thousand gold pieces and the head of one of the most powerful men in the Order—an impossible task.
The corridors of the Silent Court were dimly lit, torches flickering along damp stone walls. Cassius led them through a winding path, his steps sure.
Finally, he stopped in a quiet alcove. "Are you insane?" he hissed.
Selene turned to him. "We need an army."
"We also need to not die before we can use it," he shot back. "You just agreed to assassinate one of the Order's top generals. And unless you've been hiding an elite squad of killers somewhere, I don't see how we pull this off."
Orion, leaning against the stone wall, exhaled. "It's reckless."
Selene narrowed her eyes. "Do you both have a better idea?"
Silence.
Cassius ran a hand through his dark hair. "No. But give me time. There might be another way."
Selene didn't have time.
But she nodded. "Then start thinking. Because one way or another, Saren dies."
That night, Selene couldn't sleep.
She sat by a dying fire, staring into the embers, her mind turning over the impossible task ahead. The Order was ruthless, but Saren was more than just a soldier. He was a tactician, a man who had built his stronghold in the heart of enemy territory.
She needed more than brute strength.
She needed precision.
A soft rustle caught her attention.
Selene's hand went to the dagger at her belt as a hooded figure emerged from the darkness. The flames flickered, casting eerie shadows over the stranger's face.
"You're making dangerous promises, little queen."
Selene didn't move. "Who are you?"
The figure pulled back their hood, revealing sharp features and cold, calculating eyes. A scar ran from their temple down to their jaw.
"I am the one who can get you inside Lord Saren's fortress."
Selene's grip tightened on her blade. "And why would you help me?"
The stranger smiled, slow and knowing. "Because I have my own reasons to want Saren dead."
A beat of silence.
Selene exhaled. "What do you want in return?"
The stranger crouched beside the fire. "A name erased from history. A life taken before it can take mine."
Selene studied them, weighing their words.
"Who?"
The figure smiled again. But this time, it didn't reach their eyes.
"My brother."
The fire crackled between them, its embers glowing like dying stars.
Selene had made one deal tonight.
Perhaps it was time to make another.