The attaché approached us again—pletely calm now, as if his earlier rage had been nothing more than a momentary pse in an otherwise posed existence.

  Too calm.

  “Thank you, Princess, for your patience,” he said smoothly. “As per protocol, I defer to your and until I tact my superiors.”

  Then, to my utter surprise—he bowed. Bowed. To me. For one full sed, I was so caught off guard that I fot to speak. I blinked, my brain scrambling to process this new development.

  Then, realizatioled in like a dull weight. I g him, suppressing a sigh. This was the game, then. He was my enemy, along with some enemy fa that hated me, and a bureaucrat down to his very soul. A, here he was, deference because—for now—he had no other choice.

  And I had to py along.

  Because I khe same. Pstering on my best empty, practiced smile, I ined my head. “I apologize for my earlier outburst,” I said smoothly, the words tasting slightly bitter. “I may have… gone a little overboard.”

  There. Diplomatic. What an improvement from my test days, when I would have punched him without hesitation. Personal growth, right? I forced myself to exhale slowly, as I was calming myself.

  Behind us, the mages were still arguing, their voices overpping in a chaotigle of magical theory aed specution. Lo found a table with a chair near us and was scribbling furiously in her papers, pletely absorbed in whatever notes she was taking.

  And Mi?

  Mi, who had far too much experieh war, with politics, with the sheer iability of what was ing, simply nodded. “It is as you said, Lady,” he murmured, his voice edged with quiet resignation. “We are on our own.”

  “Oh, e on, Imperial Doan-ander Mi!” I fshed him a bright, overly fident smile, emphasizing his full title just for fun. “We hold out for a few hours!”

  Mi didn’t returhusiasm. Instead, he let out a slow, measured breath and g the broken teleportation circle—the arch of cold silvery metal, its once-glowing runes now nothing more than lifeless carvings.

  “We hold the advanced party, yes,” he admitted. His voice was even, but there was something ulingly pragmatic about it, like a man carefully measuring the weight of each possible oute. “We even stop the demon horde for a few hours.”

  He turo me, golden afternoon light catg on the edges of his armor, the steel refleg faint amber hues. “Scouts reported numbers, and they look bad. But we have a defensive position.”

  I cocked my head to the side, letting his words settle before reag out and patting his shoulder with exaggerated cheerfulness. “See?” I grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

  But he didn’t smile back. Instead, he hesitated. And then—“…But there is the issue with Queen Irwen.” The dread in his voice alpable.

  My smile faltered, just for a sed, but I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. “Leave my mother to me, Mi,” I said, my voice firm.

  A faint, knowing smile pyed at his lips as he shook his head, but before he could say anything, the attaché cut in. “Lady,” he began, his tone painfully formal, “per protocol, as the highest-ranking member of the empire’s nobility present, you are barred from direbat. Failure to ply may incur further penalties—” his voice sharpened slightly, “—when t Itzel arrives.”

  Mi the attaché’s words, his expression grim. “Lady, with all due respect, I don’t think you face her.” His voice was measured, but beh the calm was certainty. “Nobody here . She’s on a level that transds humanity.”

  I scoffed. “Well, she’s not human—she’s an elf.” I grinned, fully expeg the joke to lighten the mood, but it nded pletely ft. Except for Lo, who let out a small giggle, because she at least appreciated quality humor.

  Mi, oher hand, did not look amused. I sighed. “Have you fotten about my two scrolls?”

  Mi frowned, his brows pulling together as he searched his memory. Then his eyes widened. “Yes. I did.” Lo giggled again, clearly enjoying this more than me.

  I grinned, fully victorious.

  Mi exhaled, rubbing his temple like a man who had just realized he might o reevaluate everything. “…That,” he admitted slowly, “ges things.”

  “Okay, so, if I am…” I cleared my throat and mimicked the attaché’s overly formal tohe highest-ranking member of the empire’s nobility present…” The attaché’s eye twitched.

  I ig.

  “We o get things in order,” I tinued, shifting to my normal voice. “Imperial Doan-ander Mi, I task you and your officers with creating a battle pn—with alternatives and back-ups.”

  Mi nodded immediately, already thinking, already moving pieces into p his head. He hadn’t he and. But it was still good to say it. I turo the attaché, ready to give him something menial to do just to keep him out of my way. “Attaché, you—”

  He cut me off with a slight raise of his hand, his expression bored, as if he had already anticipated the versation. “There is nothing I do to aid you, Lady,” he said ftly. “During a crisis, protocol dictates that I spend my time in my chambers until t Itzel arrives to reinforce us and take over and.” I bit my lip. I did not punch him.

  Personal growth.

  “Very well,” I muttered, spinning toward the mages instead. “Master Mage Maara?” I called, raising my voice slightly.

  Nothing.

  The man was too deeply engrossed in a versation uhe massive runed ring, absorbed in whatever magionsense was currently fasating him. I sighed, striding over and pg a hand on his shoulder. “Master Mage Maara?”

  He startled, his body jerking slightly as he snapped his head up to look at me, his face flushed, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. “Yes?” he asked, still half-distracted.

  I gnced around, my gaze sweeping over the es. “Are the mages under your and?” I asked.

  Maara shook his head immediately. “I’m a high-ranking member of the guild, but we’re structured—”

  And just like that, he unched into a full-length dissertation on how the imperial mage guild was anized. Ranks. Fas. Specialized departments. Endless, intricate bureaucratisehat I absolutely did not o knht now.

  I nodded occasionally, pretending to listen. But half my mind was elsewhere.

  t Itzel.

  The attaché’s loyalty to him had already been too obvious, and now it was crystal clear—they had been waiting for me to fail. And holy? If Irwen hadn’t shattered the world itself, their pn might’ve worked. But the battle was ing, and after it was over…

  I o leave.

  The Imperial Capital was my best bet. I khe city like the bay hand, like home. And there? I could shield myself. I could start w toward something more than survival.

  A tess.

  I wasn’t going to fight for scraps anymore. I was going to take the whole table. And my uncle, he had said he would protect me. As far as I remembered, he was honorable.

  “…So no,” Maara finally finished, his voice rushed, as if realizing he had been talking for too long. “I ’t just force them to do whatever you wanted.” Then, after a slight hesitation. “Lady,” he added, as if suddenly afraid I would be angry at him.

  I stifled a giggle, a soft breath of amusement slipping past my lips. “Oh, I don’t need you to force them,” I said smoothly. “I just wao know if you ask them if they’d like to joitle.” My grin widened slightly. “As volunteers.” I winked.

  Wait. What the hell? When did I get so pyful?!

  Maara looked geaken aback. “Uh, that…” He hesitated, clearly struggling with the sheer cept of it. “I don’t think we are battle mages.”

  I waved a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter if the answer is zero—I won’t be f you to fight.” I nodded, more to myself than to him, and with a casual wave, I turned on my heel and strode toward Lo.

  She was still diligently buried in her paperwork, quill scratg rapidly over the part, her entire posture perfectly poised despite the absolute madness unfolding around us. I leaned forward, pg both hands firmly oable, tilting slightly into her space. “So, hi, Lo,” I greeted, fshing her an easy smile. “How do you like the game so far?”

  She barely gnced up, still engrossed in whatever very important thing she was doting. “Holy, Lady?” she asked, flipping a page with effortless precision.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Naturally. That’s what I’m asking.” I took a brief gnce around the tent. With my iven, the entire pce was finally moving—officers strategizing, scouts reying intel, mages discussing she teleportation possibilities. That was… a nice feeling. A very nice feeling.

  The feeling of power.

  Lo, however, was wholly unfazed by the shifting energy in the room. “Since I came,” she started, her voice matter-of-fact, “I’ve been going through report after report, writis about reports, making excerpts from those reports, piling iories of our assets, reg logistical discrepancies, drafting official correspondences, cross-refereng supply records, verifying resource allocations, annotating tax ledgers, and…” She tinued, rattling off an endless list of high-level imperial clerk duties with the enthusiasm of someone discussing fi.

  I blinked.

  That sounded horrible. Like, painfully horrible. I opened my mouth—to say what, exactly, I wasn’t sure—but then, before I could find the words, she grinned.

  A real, full, beaming grin.

  The first one I’d seen since I met her. “I love it,” she decred, her eyes practically sparkling with pure, unfiltered joy. “It’s amazing how it’s sooo realistic! This is what I’ve always wao do—ever!” I stared at her. Lo, apparently, had ehe game and discovered her ultimate dream job.

  What the hell.

  “Well,” I said, clearing my throat, desperate for a subject ge. “Do you know about pyers? We’re kinda the ones who should be anizing them.” Lo, still radiating joy from her bureaucratic bliss, perked up slightly at the shift in topic, but I was still struggling to recover from witnessing that level of dedication to paperwork. “I love you,” I whispered.

  Silence.

  Lo’s face went red in an instant, her quill freezing mid-stroke. “Uh… what?” she blinked rapidly, flustered. “I thought we said that in the bed—”

  “Wait, what?!” Horror smmed into my face like a spilled whiskey. “Did I—? I said that out loud?!” I felt my soul physically leave my body. Lo’s wide-eyed stare only made it worse. “I—I meant,” I stammered, waving my hands frantically, “I love to have you—as my assistant! You get so much work done! Effitly! It leaves me free to do what I do best and not get bogged down by bureaucracy!”

  Lo visibly rexed, her shoulders dropping slightly. But there was still a hint of suspi in her gaze, as if she wasirely vinced my love urely professional.

  I groaned internally.

  “That aside, Lady,” she said, finally regaining her posure, “my people have taken at of the pyers.”

  I blinked. “Your people?”

  “Yes!” she nodded enthusiastically. “I mean, they’re in your service, but the clerks who help ru Klippe.” She swiftly pulled out a paper, her fingers expertly sliding it into position like a seasoned professional delivering a battle report.

  “I have the full report upstairs,” she expined, “but I asked for a summary.” She tapped the dot. “So far, we t on about one and a half thousand pyers.”

  I exhaled slowly, my fiapping against the table. “That’s… not much.” I had expected more. Hoped for more. We needed o defend the fortress.

  Lo’s eyes narrowed. With dramatic force, she yanked another paper from her staearly tearing it in her enthusiasm. “I mean the processed applications,” she snapped, waving it at me like an offended atant prepared to duel over fiscal iy.

  She practically radiated indignation at my ck of faith. “More than that is still in the queue!”