None dared to break the resulting silence.

Eyes darted around and breaths were shakily released, but not a single man or woman in the room dared to speak. Each was lost in their thoughts as the weight of their words sank in like sand sinking to the ocean floor. They had been discussing the technicalities of the plan for hours.

Outsiders likely assumed the patrons in the giant luxurious room were having the times of their lives. Late-night revelers who would satisfy themselves until dawn before crawling back to their respectful titles and positions. But the serious expression upon all their faces said otherwise. The benefits of meeting at the Lucky Charm were clear.

Rubbing his jaw, Lord Langard was the first to break the silence. “So, let me get this straight,” started the old general. “You wish to overthrow Crown Prince Argan, and to replace him with… Crown Prince Malakai? The prince who is currently locked in an ice prison and guarded by nature and men?” The lord shook his head, still trying to take everything in. “That is… ambitious.”

Ambitious was putting it lightly.

The general turned to glance at the others around the table. Solemn expressions met his gaze head-on.

“What we are speaking of is treason of the highest degree.” He clasped his hands together. “I have to ask," the man scratched his head. "What's in it for all of you? Why go along with this? You would all be considered traitors to the crown!”

The lady seated next to Lord Langard raised an eyebrow. Her wrinkled eyes gleamed. “If you’re having second thoughts, my lord, now is the time to speak out, for you too are sitting in this,” she sniffed haughtily, “room of traitors.”

Before Lord Langard could answer, a governor slammed a hand on the table. “Treason or not, I will not live under the reign of a fool.” He glared at the general, even though the man was not the target of his ire. “Did you know that the queen and prince have levied higher taxes for all governors who are not of noble origin? And that the merit exams have such high entrance fees, no common scholar can enter it?”

The governor shook his head, exhaling harshly through his nose. “While you nobles gallivant in the capital, our lands struggle to stockpile for the winter and lack the seeds for a bountiful planting in the new year.” His eyes rose to stare at the silent master seated at the head of the table. “A mysterious envoy arrived while my people were starving. And their supplies continued to reach us till our lands flourished once more. When the envoy’s symbol reappeared in a letter requesting an audience, I did not hesitate in coming.”

“It was the same for I,” repeated another governor.

And so it went down the table, as each recounted their story and arrival.

A woman, who Lord Langard recognized as one of the famous spice merchants, set down her cup of tea. “The former queen was a dear friend. When her sons were humiliated, my company was recovering from many losses and were too far to send aid,” the proud woman grimaced, “I wish to rectify our mistake. I will see a proper son take the throne, not the child of a pretender and murderer.”

Murmurs of agreement filled the room.

“There is no proof that the queen is a murderer,” cut in Lord Langard. There was a sudden silence. His words were truth. There was technically no proof.

“The good queen in her jealousy jumped from the castle window with no witness but her former lady-in-waiting, turned consort, who reported the tale to all who would listen?” scoffed the lady incredulously. “Regardless of whether it was Rewanna or not, the truth remains, her son is not the proper heir.”

"Irregardless, he is a heir." The general was still hesitant. “Our actions could start a revolution. We would weaken our kingdom with a civil war, allowing our enemies to take advantage.”

The others looked around, unsure how to answer. It was one thing to want to follow a good man, but another to go to war for such a thing. Many were willing, but did change truly have to come at the cost of death and chaos?

Surprisingly, it was the masked servant by the Master’s side who spoke, “I disagree."

All eyes now turned to him, as the man crossed his arms, dominating the space. "This may be our only option if we wish not to descend into civil war.”

Lord Langard regarded the tall man quietly. “And why is that?”

It was the governor’s turn to laugh. “Have you seen the state of the kingdom outside the capital? Even with the envoy’s help, there are further provinces that are still struggling after the war.”

The spice merchant crossed her arms, adding in her own observations. “The borders grow more and more dangerous by the day. Except for Feldgrau and its wall, all other borders are weakly defended. The grassland clans come and raid every moon without care and the crown allows it to happen under their nose.” She snorted derisively. “Sometimes our own allies raid us. Surely, you’ve heard of the Wolf’s escapades in the south?”

Lord Langard’s brows furrowed. Although he had heard rumors, it was clear the situation of the kingdom was a lot less stable than they had been led to believe. He glanced over at the other ministers of the court. “Why have these issues not been brought to our attention?”

The lady by the general’s side shook her head. “The new court values the nobles and the wealthy. They profit off of the unrest, lining their own pockets with taxes and siphoning funds to their own estates."

"My cousin works under the minister of coin. There are families that are not required to submit their records. Why do you think that is?” She grimaced, but her voice remained steady. “The queen and crown prince turn an eye to it because they need the noble’s support… And a troubled border ensures the Lord of Feldgrau will be too busy to return and take the throne.”

“The king would-” started the general. But even he sighed as the rest of the room looked away.

The second prince’s marriage was an anomaly. On most days, the man could barely leave bed or form coherent thoughts. It was fortuitous that the Wenge delegates had only seen him at his strongest, lest the consequence might have been dire. The queen had been playing a dangerous game. In punishing her stepson, she could have started a second war.

“A reckoning will come,” announced the masked servant. “Civil war is already brewing on our insides. Forcing the queen and Argan to renounce their titles for Malakai is the most peaceful retort. Let us give people the change and reform they desire, in the most bloodless way possible.”

"They will not agree willingly," warned Lord Langard, but his words were said half-heartedly. The general chewed on his own thoughts. If there was a worthy successor… blue eyes flashed in his mind. “Malakai once squired under me, he is a good man.” Lord Langard’s weary eyes rose to meet the rest of the room. “However, he has been away from civilizations for a decade. That type of time can change a man.”

“Not the crown prince,” assured the masked servant. “Malakai is like a mountain. He may be weathered, but his spirit is unyielding and strong.”

Seeing the doubt on the general’s brows, the servant pressed further. “Or would you prefer Argan as your king?” He turned to glance at his seated master.

The head of the table finally spoke. His tone was full of derision. “A king who would risk offending even the Vellwards for a night of pleasure on these very streets.”

Behind the mask, the servant turned to address the room. He picked up where his master had left off. “Mark my words, if not Malakai, the throne will be overtaken by rebels and descend into true war. Wenge may aid Rewanna for a few moon cycles but they will turn on us to reap their own rewards.”

“It is a wonder they haven't yet,” muttered the general. He crossed his arms. "But if we give them the chance, we may not even have a moon cycle before they seek their revenge."

Bewildered expressions turned to face the unexpected words. Despite their foreign ways, Wenge was known to be quite honorable in their oaths. For Lord Langard to admit such a thing… And what revenge? For the loss of the great war?

The general sighed at the confused expressions. “You ask why I am here.”

"Well," the older man shifted in his seat. “I too am here to repay a debt.” From his pockets, he pulled out the simple letter and tapped the symbol on top. “The owner of this emblem once did me a great favor as well."

"They saved the face and legacy of my house when we were too cowardly to do it ourselves." He grimaced in shame, but continued, "In the grassland wars, when Wenge asked for aid, per the crown’s order, we refused them.”

The deep lines on his face grew more pronounced. “The crown believed that Wenge was Illiana’s allies… not Eburean’s. The army was told to aid Wenge’s enemies… and so I did.” The admission was heavy and hard to put into the open air. It was a secret he had burrowed inside for years. But it only felt fair after listening to an evening of treasonous admissions.

"But, how, what," stammered one of the governors. "If that is so, why are we not allied with another tribe?"

“Once the tribes had defeated Wenge in a great battle, they turned on us. Half of my men were murdered in their sleep while the other half,” the general paused, his fists clenched. “They were stabbed in the back on the battlefield.”

”A large shipment of weapons and supplies had just been sent out but was lost on the way. It was clear they were eyeing our kingdom next."

Lord Langard chuckled humorlessly. "By the time we received the news, it was too late. We were certain they would kill us with our own blades, and to think, we fed and armed our enemies. We were fools.” His brows furrowed. “But this envoy, using my family’s name had redirected the supply package to an unnamed Wenge warrior, staying true to the allyship we shared. Hidden within the grains were maps and battle plans we had observed before the betrayal.”

The entire room was entranced. One of the governors shivered, captivated by the secret story none knew. “Then, what happened?”

“That was the resurgence of Wenge and the rise of the one who would be known as the Raven General,” replied the lord faintly. “They say she cut through enemies like they were grass fields. Our remaining men were returned to the border, still bound in chains, but alive, with a message,” Lord Langard’s eyes held a faraway look. “Wenge will not forget.”

The message and the returned soldiers had been an added insult to the injury. There was no greater sign of Lord Langard’s failure. A secret he had to stomach as the capital congratulated him and lauded him in glory.

To the rest of the kingdom, Eburean had been a great aid to their allies, securing their partnership with one of the strongest clans. To those who knew, it was a shock when Wenge mentioned nothing. Except for the raids, it was as if the treaty had never been broken. And now, the Raven General herself was within their walls, married to their ice prince.

Wenge will not forget. The others hissed. Such a warning from the formidable Raven General was more than ominous. It was practically a threat! And to think the queen had personally invited someone they betrayed inside their home? Lord Langard's hesitance to the marriage had been more than a wariness of love-less matches. This must be a setup for an ambush from the other side!

“I know I came across as inquisitive, but I too have no desire to serve someone who values pride over lives,” the general’s head raised. “I am with you, if you will have me.”

Huffing laughs and smirks lessened some of the apprehension that had grasped the room. The tension dissipated slightly as they jokingly cheered and welcomed the general into their “traitorous ranks”. Glasses were raised and toasted.

When the jokes quieted down, Lord Langard’s eyes flashed to the head of the table. “However, I do have a question for our host.” Curious eyes rose at the request.

The master did not react, but gestured for the general to continue.

“You are not who you pretend to be,” said the general simply. "So why the act?'

The room gasped.

“What do you mean, general?” asked the governor, lowering his glass in shock.

“Very well, let me ask our host a question. If he is who he claims to be, the answer should be easy,” decided Lord Langard. His piercing eyes dug into the masked man's form. “What name did you sign your letters to Wenge as, old friend?”

The master shifted but was silent.

The others in the room began to eye each other. This was a question they had not thought to consider. Was the host… not who they claimed to be? But what of the symbol on the letters? They shifted nervously.

“Your son,” said a voice.

It was the servant by the master’s side that spoke. Laughing slightly, the servant clarified, “I signed it as your youngest son. Rufus Langard.”

All eyes shifted to the servant, as if finally seeing the other man for the first time.

Seeing that the ruse was up, the seated master stood. The man was an attendant playing lord. They pulled out the chair dutifully for their counterpart, and the fake servant but true master sat. The noble air about him had been telling.

“Apologies for the confusion, my lords and ladies.” The not-servant chuckled and shot Lord Langard an amused look. “Although, I suppose you already guessed since our meeting outside.”

The general shrugged, “You have the walk of a noble-born. It can be imitated, but most do not think to try.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Why the secrecy?” asked one of the ladies. Her lips pursed. “Was our appearance not enough of a sign of trust?”

“Yes,” answered the masked man. “I needed to make certain. If I make a wrong move, I’m afraid the consequences of this gamble will cost not only my head, but all those under me.” He glanced over the room. "There is a final test."

The man glanced at his attendant. The other brought forward a tray of cups. An amber liquid sat within every cup, but there were two prevalent shades. Half the cups were a golden amber, while the others were a paler variant. The attendant set down the cups. Some received the amber and others received the pale. There was no obvious patterns to it.

The masked man's voice was solemn. "There are those among you that I do not trust." He sighed and crossed his arms. "Some of the drinks are poisoned. You may choose to try and figure out which ones are, or prove your trust in the cause and drink. The choice is yours."

A great uproar followed the words. The governor's eyes bulged as he shot from his seat. "What is the meaning of this?"

But the masked man was not fazed. "I will not prevent you from leaving if that is what you choose."

"Leave?" laughed the spice merchant. "Oh, dear lord. You are a cunning one."

The governor's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

The lady tilted her head. Her smile was sharp as she lifted the cup and swirled the contents inside. "Any that leave proves they are a traitor. One that has seen all of our faces. If not me, then one of the others will surely send an assassin or worse to protect their identity." With that, the woman gulped down the golden amber in one go. "If you betray us, we will make sure you are brought down with us."

Lord Langard studied the pale gradient in his cup. In his campaigns, he had come across poisons that were of this shade. His knuckles tapped the table. "The envoy I know is no fool." The general drank from the cup as well. "I'm already here. Might as well see this to the end." His cup was set down forcefully. The resounding thud echoed through the room.

Both options had been ingested. The rest of the room sobered. One by one every member in the room drank from their cup.

There was a tense silence as they sat and waited for one of them to collapse and die. Nervous eyes darted at one another, but none dared to speak a word. Each cough or heavy sigh made the room tense. The attendant silently collected the empty cups. Finished with the task, they returned to stand behind the masked man again.

The masked man clapped his hands together loudly. His voice was solemn. “Congratulations. You have all passed.”

A deep sigh of relief ran through the room. They were ready to set down their lives for the cause... but not so early!

“Hurrah,” said the general with false cheer. “Since we passed, surely there is no need for secrecy. Take off the damned mask.”

The fake master behind the chair, started forward. The attendant's grip fell to the concealed sword by his side. But the true master was quick to halt him, holding up a warning hand. The room stared with bated breath.

In the same motion, the master reached back and undid the straps of his mask. The silk strings fell to the side. Grasping the metal, the man lowered the concealment, revealing his true identity.

The entire room gasped. Even the general had a shocked look in his eyes.

But the master merely smirked. Blue eyes glinted. “It is nice to meet your acquaintance officially.”

Lord Langard let out a barking laugh. Amazement and amusement clashed on the general’s face. Rising to his feet, he clapped the other man on the shoulders. Nikolai tried to hold back his pained wince.

“You sure are something else.” The general shook his head in bewilderment. “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have had to go through all this trouble.”

Sighing, the old general admitted, "If it's you, half of me is already at ease.” He shook his head as understanding dawned on him. Who else would put the former crown prince and not themselves on the throne? “It all makes sense now."

Pausing to wipe his mirthful eye, the general sobered. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get to planning your revolution, Lord.”

That seemed the reel the rest of the room in.

Getting over their shock, the other lords and ladies began to move and murmur excitedly. They looked towards the head of the table excitedly.

“So, what’s the first step, Lord of Feldgrau?”

Nikolai’s smirk only grew. “Why, I thought you’d never ask.”

—

Faye breathed out steadily, letting the motion center her. She could feel the beads of sweat trickling down her neck.

Frantic footsteps approached from outside. Heels clicked against the stone floors.

Amber eyes snapped open. The Raven General stared at the upside-down room. In a fluid motion, the general sighed and loosened her core. Her two feet landed on the ground silently. The young woman blinked. It took a moment to orient herself, just in time as the expected knocks reached the doors to her chambers.

Striding forward, Faye opened the doors. Seeing who it was, the general was half-stunned. “I thought you weren’t speaking to me.”

Huffing, Abby stared back, unintimidated.

“There is no time for that,” the older woman snapped. Pulling herself into the room, she strode frantically to the young woman’s wooden wardrobe. Her usual pristine bun was in disarray.

Grasping the handles, Abby pulled the doors to the wardrobe open… only to gape. There were only military clothes in here! This was not the wardrobe of a lady. The older woman rubbed her forehead. She would have gotten the servants to send for tailors and dressmakers if she had known. It would only have taken a day to take measurements and send over some standard dresses. The maid shot the horrible wardrobe a final disgusted stare. So improper. The maid pinched her nose and huffed loudly.

Extremely confused, Faye’s brows furrowed. What had the other in such a craze? “Abby? Abby, what is going on?”

But the head maid ignored her in favor of clapping her hands loudly.

Like magic, maids and serving girls rushed into the room, surrounding the Raven General, who looked out of sort and place. She eyed the determined glint in the girls’ eyes. The hairs on the back of her neck raised in warning.

Abby pointed to one of the girls. “You there, go fetch a dress from the tailor for the night. Slightly tall and a bit… sturdy for the shoulders.” Her sharp eyes turned to the others. “The rest of you… get to it.”

“Abby, what is-” But Faye’s voice was lost to the commotion as the serving girls attacked. They began to ferociously measure the young woman’s waits and chest. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing! Stop- Abby!”

But the older woman was lost in her own world. She was an unstoppable whirlwind, ordering different girls this way and that. The once silent room filled with raucous order and noisy movement.

Finally fed up with it, Faye shoved the girls away. She screamed, “Stop this!” The volume was so impressive it even reached the stable boys outside, who froze and looked around in confusion.

Similarly, the maids froze in shock. Even Abby took pause. The head maid sighed but finally turned to address the general.

“What is going on?” gritted out the young woman, amber eyes flashing dangerously. “Why are there people measuring my… me?”

Behind her back, Abby gestured for the girls to head out and complete the tasks she assigned. They were on a time crunch!

Clasping her hands together, the head maid put on a fake smile. Her voice was saccharine sweet and respectful. “Well, my Lady Feldgrau. Your husband is having guests over. And as such,” her smile turned devious, filling with pure evil. “We must make a lady out of you.”

That was the cue. Faye screamed as the girls pounced and dragged her away. The young woman went howling and biting, but to their credit, the serving girls feared for their paychecks much more.

Crossing her arms, Abby beckoned a maid to her side. “Go with the others. I want you to recite every page of the etiquette book to the lady as they prepare her. It is our job to ensure the lord’s guest see a perfect, proper lady.” Her voice deepened with determination. “At least for tonight. We will beat it into her brain if we must.”

The maid stood straight and saluted, “Yes, ma’am!”

—

The Prince’s Residence had been working for hours. It was the first time since they moved in that the Lord of Feldgrau was finally inviting other nobles and guests to his mansion. From the kitchen to Frederick and Bian scrubbing the latrines, the residence was filled with a certain bustle of excitement. All were fueled by their to put their best foot forward and impress the other nobles… as well as the threat of Abby’s rage.

The cobwebs had long been dealt with and every surface was polished to perfection. Passing through, Faye admired some of the clean-up work. If Abby had been given an army, she would have made quite the commander. The general within her commended the other's formidable efficiency.

Standing at the center of the entrance, in an itchy gown that was too wide for her, the Raven General resisted the urge to scratch at her sleeves. The young woman looked like a pink turkey with puffy sleeves the size of her head. Faye shuddered. She had seen the warning glint in Abby’s eyes. The young woman sucked on her cheek. Her ears still hurt from all the recitation.

Tonight was not a night to get on the older woman’s nerves. The head maid's eyes promised pain for any that crossed her… Faye would know.

The Raven General shifted her weight from foot to foot. The borrowed dress was heavy and her ankles were beginning to ache in the heels. Despite all of this, there was still no sign of any guests. Although, she hated to admit it, the entire situation made Faye uncomfortable. It was like an unbearable itch. Here she was, the greatest general in the history of the grasslands…Being forced to stand like a random statue for strangers to gawk at whenever they desired to come. Punctuality was apparently not their strong suit. She grunted angrily.

Passing by with a broomstick in hand, Bian shot the general a pitying look.

A strand of hair fell into the general’s face. Bored, the young woman clasped her hands behind her back and attempted to blow the strand out of the way. To her frustration, the pesky hair kept falling back. Competitive spirit engaged, the general blew harder and harder. Spit flew in the air as one of the mightiest warriors in all the land tried to blow a… hair strand. Faye's face grew red from the effort. The passing servants stared with wide eyes as they walked by. It was quite the sight.

Fixated on her self-imposed mission, the general missed the click of the large wooden doors as the servants bowed and beckoned the lords and ladies in… only to enter on such a scene of the general shaking their head and spitting into the air with how hard she was puffing her cheeks and blowing air.

The Lord of Feldgrau faltered. It had been a while since he had seen the other in more than a passing glance. Not to mention, the last they met it was to the sight of the general as she decimated his ancestor's beloved gardens.

What was she doing, he wondered. There was a burning determination in those amber eyes. Best not to disturb her, the lord decided. It was probably an ancient sword practice ritual or something.

Next to him, Cristin didn’t have as open of a mind. The attendant ran a hand down his face, seemingly more embarrassed than the lord was. In contrast, his liege merely looked unfazed.

Feeling a familiar glance, Faye paused. The hair fell back in place. The Raven General gazed at the small crowd before her. So these were the late nobles.

A scary thought struck her. The young woman gulped. Abby was going to kill her.

Unsure what to say, the Lord of Feldgrau nodded sharply towards his wife and led the way to the meeting room.

Cristin shot Faye a weird look before beckoning the nobles to follow. “This way, my lords and ladies.”

They were quick to follow, without sparing a second glance to the weird woman. Most didn’t even recognize who she was.

In fact, only one did.

Lord Langard regarded the Raven General with sharp eyes. The older general stopped in front of the young woman. “So, you are Fadye’s heir.” He crossed his arms. “I was always led to believe that you would be… bigger. Either ways, it seems we finally meet face to face, Raven General.” He paused, “Or should I refer to you as Lady Feldgrau?”

“Raven General is fine.” Tilting her head, Faye shot him a sharp look. The young woman rolled her shoulders back as she took a wider stance. “And who might you be?”

Amber eyes burned challengingly. “I’m afraid your fame does not precede you as mine seems to.”

Choking on the other's words, the other general spluttered, “Excuse me?” Crossing his arms, he declared proudly. “I am Lord Langard, the General of Eburean!”

“Show some respect! We met at…” His weathered features glared down at the other. “I was leading armies before you were even born, child.”

“Ah, I remember now.” Scoffing, the Raven General crossed her arms. She sneered, “That must be why I had to return half your men to you in chains.”

Expression darkening, Lord Langard gritted his teeth.

“If it helps,” Faye noted, “I killed Elkaie in your stead. The man that betrayed your troops.” The haughtiness in her tone lessened slightly. “It was dishonorable for him to kill them in their sleep," she admitted. Backstabbing was not the way of the grasslands. "I had my men lay their bodies to rest.”

Shocked, the dark expression on Lord Langard’s face receded. He nodded his head slolwy, processing the information. “It... would seem that I owe you twice over.” Laughing bitterly, the old general extended a hand. “I apologize for my comment. Forgive this old man. You are a good warrior,” he shook his head. “And a damn good general. You have my thanks, Raven General.”

Surprisingly, the other general’s words soothed a constant fear in his heart. Lord Langard had always feared for the fate of those betrayed. Thoughts and night terrors that the bodies of his fallen soldiers had been desecrated tormented him. The guilt had weighed on him as he berated himself for years on the final honor he couldn't even grant them. Although it was based off the words of a former enemy, Lord Langard sensed no hint of deceit.

Amber eye’s narrowed, but their ire softened. She nodded at the thanks, but made no other mention of it. “What is the general of the kingdom doing at the Prince's Residence?”

Lord Langard glanced towards where the others were headed. “I am a dear… friend of the lord.” His eyes glinted as he whispered, “I do hope you will not sell me out to the queen.”

“Luckily for you,” huffed Faye. “I have no intention of willingly stepping into that stuffy castle.”

Lord Langard laughed at the comment. Perhaps it was a soldier’s sense, but he too felt uncomfortable when summoned to the castle. His senses were always on high alert with people who used niceties and words as their swords and arrows.

Straightening, the older general nodded at the longsword hung trustily by the Raven General’s side. It was a bit out of place with the frumpy dress.

“This old man may be up in his years, but should the opportunity arise, I would like to invite you for a spar.” Lord Langard smirked, “Only if the girl is up to the challenge.”

Faye answered with an unimpressed brow. “Only if your back won’t give out in the middle of it, old man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered the older general. He had heard that joke before. His expression turned serious as he swore, “As long as it does not put the lives of my people in danger, name a request and House Langard will fulfill it.”

The man turned to head down the hallway. A hand shot out and a firm grip held him back. Lord Langard’s brows furrowed and he willed his instinct not to react. Insistent, the grip turned the man to face the Raven General once more. Suddenly, Langard wasn’t so keen for a spar. What a bruising grip!

To his surprise, the amber eyes were bright with excitement, and non-threatening. “You may fulfill my request now," demanded the young woman.

“Now?” Lord Langard’s brows raised in shock. Hopefully, this was not a mistake. Guard raised, the general sighed, “Well, what is it?”

“I met a young man dueling the scholar of morning day who claimed to hail from your house. He said he was the youngest son. Is this true?”

Sighing, Lord Langard rubbed his neck. Even the general had heard of that? The man wanted to strangle his young son. “Unfortunately so. Why?”

He was used to the comments that came along when the matters of his youngest son were involved. Most liked to rub it in the successful general’s face. To think even a foreign general had heard of the boy… Lord Langard sighed internally.

But the lukewarm answer only made the Raven General even more excited. “Your son is a man I greatly admire.” The young woman was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. There was even a… dreamy gleam in her eyes.

Lord Langard swallowed, and restrained himself from stepping back in fear.

If she had been anyone else, the older general would have worried for her husband and their marriage. But the Raven General was no ordinary person.

“Really?” said Lord Langard, caught off guard. Catching note of his own tone, he quickly recovered. “I mean, but, of course! He’s my son!”

Suddenly, the older general backtracked. “But…what does this have to do with your request?”

Faye clenched her fists, determination surging through her. She would finally get her answers!

The Raven General smiled brightly. “I wish for an audience with Rufus Langard.”