“Is there a point to this?” Nida hissed the following evening, standing just behind me as I sat on a cold, stone chair. We'd been largely left alone during the day but had been called to this specific room in the Duke's Spire for dinner. Brianna and Victor had worked with me most of the morning and afternoon to catch me up on all the little details they knew about House Alistar and its conventions.

Now, I sat at a gray, slab-like table, at which exactly thirteen others were seated. According to Brianna and Victor’s information, they ranged in age from about eleven to thirty. Standing against the wall behind each candidate was their retinue, mostly knights or wealthy-looking companions. As Nida leaned away from my ear to straighten, fourteen maids entered the dimly lit dining room, moving with clean, trained efficiency. Within moments, they’d placed a tray of food in front of each of the ducal candidates and set out an array of dishes along the table’s length. The warm, enticing aroma filled the air, reminding me of cinnamon and a spice that stirred a memory I couldn’t quite place.

“It’s just dinner,” I muttered back, lifting the thin silver dome covering my plate and setting it aside. I leaned into the steam from the freshly cooked meat covered in a delicious-smelling brown sauce and vegetables that looked distinctly unfamiliar.

Nida leaned in again. “It’s like they want you all to know each other’s faces so you can kill each other or something.”

“You heard Brianna,” I replied softly, low enough for only her and Nasq to hear. “The Alistars hold their honor in high regard. I doubt that killing will be part of the succession method the council decides.”

And if it does come down to killing, well, I certainly have the advantage, I thought with a small, rueful smile.

“She also said they’re extremely prideful,” the tigerkin shot back. Though I couldn’t see her eyes, I knew they were fixed quite pointedly on Darrow Alistar, Duke Alistar’s nephew and grandson to the current Matriarch.

What worried me wasn’t the young boy, who appeared barely twenty—it was his guard, who followed him like a shadow. Seeing someone at a silver core level with three heart rings in this world was rare, so I was surprised to see such a powerful warrior serving someone much weaker. The boy, Darrow, was likely no stronger than a mid-tier bronze core.

Must be paying him quite the sum.

A scoff snapped my gaze up from my food, pulling my attention from Nida to a tall, bearded man standing next to Darrow’s guard. Dressed in wealthier attire than the plain gray tunic worn by the silver-core warrior, he stared straight at me, making no attempt to hide his contempt.

I returned his look with a slight smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Darrow was at least a head shorter than his two guards, but where their hair and eyes were dark, his hair was dirty blond, light brown eyes, and broad shoulders—a distinct reminder of his close blood relation to Duke Alistar.

“You think you’re funny, girl?”

I turned slightly, and Nida stepped forward. As she approached, I tugged down the length of my cloak to better hide the missing arm. “Watch that guard closely. In my… current state, I’m not sure I can take him. My core still has yet to fully recover.” Though Brianna had assured me this was a standard succession event for House Alistar, it was best to expect the worst in a room full of strangers.

“Hey, bitch. I’m speaking to you.”

“Yes, my lady. He will not leave my sight,” Nida answered.

“Nor mine,” came Nasq’s voice from over my other shoulder.

The sound of ceramic being shattered caused my head to reflexively jerk toward the loud sound. But when I saw the source of the annoyance, I saw only a large, rotund boy with a face so red it put the dawn sunrise to shame. He was sitting a few chairs down my left, staring angrily at me for some inexplicable reason. He breathed in large, almost desperate gasps of air that caused the fat beneath his chin to tremble with each inhalation. Like almost everyone here, he had dirty blond hair and broad shoulders. Unlike Darrow, however, there was no sharpness to his jaw or intelligence in his eyes.

I was about to return my attention to my Paragons when the boy—his age buried under layers of fat—growled, “Bitch, don’t you dare look away from me.”

I blinked once. Twice. I looked around, only to realize the brat was indeed talking to me. The air chilled as rage built up within my Paragons, but the tension quickly broke when I started to laugh.

Despite everything I’d endured since coming to Graedon, this was likely the most absurd of them all. It was a cold, cruel laugh that echoed off the stone chairs and tables like sharp claws, screeching and piercing the air with the sound of laughter utterly devoid of humor. The room fell into an unnatural silence, punctuated by the coldness of my laughter.

“You’re going to die soon,” I said, the words slipping out before I could consider if they were wise. “Children like you always do. Entitled brats, oblivious to reality and the world beyond their mother’s bosom. You’ll say something just as filthy to someone in the wrong place or the wrong time and swiftly find your head at the end of a spike.”

“How DARE you!” he snarled, slamming his hands onto the stone table. His face twisted in pain, clearly not having remembered the table was hard stone instead of wood.

A few of the candidates chuckled at the large boy’s shameful behavior, though the majority remained silent until a cruel smile split Darrow’s handsome features. Those watching him soon began to laugh as well, some exchanging whispers and glances at the boy, who sat red-faced and humiliated.

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A young woman from his retinue rushed forward with a concerned expression, a towel compress in hand. But before she could even attempt to tend to his bruised hand, he turned and struck her across the side of her head, cupping her ear in a way that caused the poor girl to yelp with pain. The boy snarled a death threat at her, but the girl didn't respond. She scrambled back to her feet where she'd collapsed and silently refound her place against the wall behind him.

“Fucking bitches everywhere,” he muttered. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Darrow’s smile had morphed into a frown that was somehow even more menacing. The boy visibly recoiled and straightened, trying to sit back down but ending up collapsing as his legs gave out with anxiety. I watched, amused, as the boy's flickering gaze seemed to avoid Darrow's, but always somehow found its way back to the older boy as if wanting to see how pissed Darrow was.

“Isn’t he a mid-bronze core?” Nida asked, still hovering by my shoulder. “How’s he putting out so much pressure?”

“Do you remember his name?” I asked, eyes lingering on the larger boy.

“Darrow?”

“No, the one who’ll get himself killed.”

“Oh uh, one second.” I felt the warmth of Nida’s breathing leave the back of my neck for a second while she confirmed with Nasq in whisper’s so quiet I couldn’t hear despite my proximity. “Nasq says his name is Glory.”

The girl next to me tilted her head at the words and shot me an apologetic smile. Like the other candidates, she had dirty blonde hair, but where most of them had brown eyes with golden flecks, hers were solid viridian green. “It is quite an absurdly stupid name, isn’t it?”

“It’s certainly unusual,” I replied, turning to face the candidate. Although Brianna had warned me about the green-eyed Alistar, I asked, “And your name?”

“Ginny,” she said. “Ginny Alistar. Glory is my little brother.”

“Ah,” I said, feigning surprise. “The great-grandchildren of the Duke’s uncle.”

She nodded. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Lilliana Silverwater.” Ginny placed deliberate emphasis on Silverwater, a detail I chose to ignore. She could belabor Lilliana’s surname until the world ended; it had no bearing on my claim to succession.

I leaned back in my chair, offering only a small lift of an eyebrow in response to Ginny’s remark. Casually, I touched the back of my storage ring and removed House Alistar’s ducal coin. Letting a small smile touch my lips, I began flipping it in the air, snatching it just below its apex with practiced ease.

I repeated the motion until every gaze in the room was fixed on the coin as it spun, only to be caught and sent back into the air. When Darrow’s eyes eventually shifted from the coin to my face, I offered him the same cruel smile he had shown earlier.

We locked gazes as I continued to flip House Alistar’s precious symbol as if it were nothing more than a trinket, something beneath my attention. The room grew thick with tense silence, heavy with a blend of fear and anger, so palpable that even some of the candidates began to squirm, their earlier confidence waning as they watched me toy with the House Coin.

Even a few of the knights standing behind their respective lords or ladies cast glances around, as if expecting someone else to reprimand me.

But slowly, they seemed to realize no one would. I held and had bonded with House Alistar’s Patriarch Coin. These knights were bound by duty to the House Head, symbolized by the coin itself. They couldn’t touch me or reprimand me without risking the charge of betrayal to the House and its centuries-old traditions. Whatever rumors the knights from when I'd arrived in the city had hinted at regarding my bond with the coin would be dispelled here; all present could sense that this was indeed the enchanted House Alistar Coin and that I was intimately bonded to it.

With each rotation of the coin, both Glory and Ginny visibly paled, while Darrow’s eyes narrowed further. Other candidates, those more distantly related to the deceased Duke, squirmed uncomfortably, glancing between me, Darrow, and the door, as if hoping someone would come and rescue them from the charged atmosphere.

When no one came, I slipped the coin back into my ring. At the same time, I released the hold I always kept on my aura of Authority and allowed it to surge out from my core like an angry, raging river.

The three guardian knights present with silver realm cores stepped forward, pushing back against my Authority with their own energy. Yet, only Darrow’s guard could wield an Authority aura of comparable strength. Two others were able to hold my Authority back, though that was the limit of their abilities. While Darrow and two other candidates appeared largely unbothered by my aura, no fewer than three candidates passed out on the spot. The others merely gasped and paled with fear, relying on their guards to dampen the pressure. Maids and noncombatant bystanders collapsed to the stone floor like puppets with their strings cut.

What are you doing?” Darrow shouted, attempting to rise, though his silver realm guard held him back with an outstretched arm.

“Calm yourself, my lord,” the guard growled lowly. “Do not rise to the Lady’s provocations.”

“Interesting,” I remarked, shifting my attention from Darrow to his guard. “What is your name, warrior? It’s rare to encounter another with an aura of Authority at the silver realm.”

“Do not speak to my guard, Lady Silverwater,” Darrow hissed, nearly spitting my title.

I ignored Darrow, keeping my gaze steady on the knight.

“I am Alaric, my lady,” the knight replied with polite restraint, though his tone made it clear he had no desire to converse with me.

“I see,” I mused, considering the name. “I—”

My words cut off abruptly as my Authority aura was suddenly overwhelmed by a more powerful force, slamming against my energy’s boundary and containing it. A searing pain flared in my core, and I was forced to pull my aura back.

The entranceway's heavy stone door swung open, revealing five Knights dressed in red-tinted shining golden armor surrounding a woman much older than I remembered Duke Alistar to have been. If her hair had once been a shade of blonde, there was no hint of it in her colorless strands of gray hair. Wrinkles littered her body and she walked slightly hunched, a thick cane with the head of a serpent tapped against the floor with each step she took. She wore long, flowing red-gold robes that dragged slightly behind her and a thin golden circlet sat snug upon her head.

What surprised me most, however, was the sheer power radiating from her. Though her energy did not quite reach Duke Alistar’s level, it was unmistakable that she was in the gold core realm.

I was beginning to think that gold realm cores weren’t as rare as I’d been led to believe. Perhaps it wasn’t that anyone had lied, but simply that those with such power stayed out of the public eye. Or perhaps House Alistar had simply been fortunate to have two. After all, Collin Alistar had nearly reached the platinum realm; it wasn’t so shocking that he might have a relative in the gold realm to spar with.

“I see you have all been playing an interesting game,” she croaked, her voice hoarse with age. Two of her five guards pulled out the heavy stone chair at the head of the table, and she sat gracefully before nodding her thanks and turning toward us. With a breath, her Authority aura vanished.

Darrow shot to his feet and bowed. “Matriarch Eliza, I am honored by your presence.”

The rest of the candidates followed his lead, quickly standing and dipping into deep bows and curtsies. I merely offered her a slight nod when her gaze landed on me, sparing her from any of my false courtesy.