The court of Valehaven glittered with veiled ambition.
Sunlight filtered through crimson-tinted glass, throwing ruby shards across marble floors. Beneath that stained light, Queen Julia reclined on her high throne, every inch of her the image of grace and serenity. Courtiers bowed. Messengers came and went. But in her eyes—beneath the painted warmth—calculations brewed like a storm behind silk curtains.
Julia had listened to Orlan the night before. Listened to him spin threads of rebellion and promise. Now, her mind was a hive of whispers.
She needed to move, and fast. Too many fires crackled beneath the surface of Elarion.
Alexios was rising too quickly. The alliance he'd helped forge now called him "Ceaser" openly in foreign courts. Isis's artistic banners flew alongside his legions. The people—cursed to short lives—whispered prayers in his name, hoping for release. Even Ramses's irrigation systems were being renamed in Alexios's honor.
But Julia knew. Power admired had to be balanced. Or extinguished.
And yet, she smiled when his letters came.
A herald arrived that morning with another one—Alexios thanking her for her early trade routes. "But I thought of those like you—standing firm amidst shadows—and I pressed forward."
Julia wrote back with golden ink: "You walk the path of kingship with a soldier's soul. Know that Valehaven stands behind you."
The letter was sealed in rose-scented wax and dispatched within the hour.
Publicly, she was his greatest advocate.
But privately…
Later that evening, in the Hall of Cinders beneath the throne room, Julia met her second guest in as many days. This one came not in shadows but in fire.
Astra, Lady of Emberfall, stormed into the chamber in full battle attire—her golden braids scorched at the ends, her left gauntlet still stained with dried blood.
"You kept me waiting," Astra growled.
Julia gestured at the ornate chair across from her. "Queenhood is a busy calling. You of all people understand."
"I don't care for courtly lies," Astra snapped. "I lost the Riverhold trade posts last week. Astrid cut off my lumber supply. Now she's building war machines on my borders, and Alexios runs to her side like a trained dog."
Julia tilted her head, feigning innocence. "And what do you expect me to do? Astrid has strong allies."
"You want to remain relevant? Support the rightful ones. Not that forest witch. I've held this desert for ten years—before half these child kings were even crowned."
Julia's smile faded slightly. "And yet you've lost nearly everything in just two."
Astra stepped forward. "I need coin. Steel. Supplies. If you're not ready to back me, then I'll find others who will. I hear Takahashi has a surplus of ore."
Julia didn't flinch. "Takahashi wants chaos, not allies. You're a sword to him. Useful, but expendable."
"You think Alexios doesn't see you the same way?" Astra asked, eyes narrowed. "He'll use your gold, your routes, your praise—and then he'll pass his laws and bind us all beneath his order."
That pierced deeper than Julia expected.
Astra stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"He wants to lift the peasant curse, doesn't he? What do you think happens when these fast-lifers live longer? They remember more. They learn more. They start asking why you rule."
Julia was quiet for a long time.
Then she stood and walked to a table set with maps. Her fingers traced the central volcano—where ancient prophecies lay buried beneath ash and stone. Where Alexios and Amir had vanished weeks ago.
"You think Astrid is your enemy," Julia murmured. "But she's merely Alexios's reflection. What you're truly afraid of is that he's building something lasting."
Astra clenched her fists. "I want to see them burn. Both of them. Astrid and her pious arrogance. Alexios and his marble cities. Let them rot."
Julia turned, her expression unreadable.
"Very well. I'll help you. Quietly. You'll receive shipments from our eastern silos—iron, oil, and horses. Use them wisely."
Astra blinked. "You're serious?"
"I'm never not," Julia said. "But mark me, Astra. You burn too bright, and you will draw attention you cannot handle. If you go to war, do not drag me down with you."
Astra grinned. "I won't need to."
When Astra left, Julia remained in the Hall of Cinders.
She poured herself a cup of violet wine and stared at the flickering lanterns along the far wall. Flames rose and fell. Like kingdoms. Like dreams.
Two sides.
Alexios, with his laws and shining legions. Astra, with her fury and vengeance.
And Julia?
She would not pick a side.
She would be the fulcrum.
Publicly, she would praise Alexios. Send him artists. Let Lyra think she was a harmless Queen of Trade and Artistry.
Privately, she would feed Astra enough support to cause unrest. Let Astrid bleed resources defending her borders. Let Alexios waste his time saving allies. Let his attention scatter.
And Orlan… Orlan would deal with Cassandra. Julia would watch.
She would not fight in open war. Not yet.
Instead, she would let the realm simmer until everyone needed her more than they hated her.
Let the young kings play their games. Let the flames lick the roots of the old Elyari Empire. She would walk between them all, a queen of masks.
And when they were finished burning each other, only she would remain.