I walk into the council chamber like I’m about to declare war. Which, honestly, I basically am.
The entire council’s assembled—all the usual suspects sitting around their polished table, discussing my life like I’m not in the fucking room. Perfect timing.
“Gentlemen,” I announce, and every head turns. “We need to talk.”
Toren doesn’t even look up from whatever document he’s pretending to read. “You’re supposed to be preparing for your wedding.”
“Yeah, about that. I’m not doing it.”
Now he looks up. So does everyone else. The silence could cut glass.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’m not marrying Vaela. I’m not playing politics. And I’m sure as hell not pretending Lucy doesn’t exist anymore.”
General Horne clears his throat like he’s about to deliver a lecture. “Prince Cassian, the arrangements have been—”
“Fuck the arrangements.”
Audible gasps. Someone drops their quill.
“Lucy’s alive,” I continue, because why stop now? “She’s being held prisoner by that psychopath you all think is such a great ally. And instead of doing something about it, you’re planning to marry me off like I’m livestock.”
Toren’s expression could freeze hell. “Sit down.”
“No.”
“This is not a request.”
“This is not a negotiation.”
The tension in the room ratchets up to “someone’s about to die” levels. Good. Let them squirm.
“Cancel the wedding,” I say. “Call off this political theater. Let me go get her.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then I no longer serve this court.”
The words hit like a bomb going off. Chairs scrape. Voices rise. Someone actually clutches their chest like they’re having a heart attack.
“You can’t—” Toren starts.
“Watch me.”
I turn and walk out before anyone can stop me. The double doors slam behind me with a sound like thunder.
My boots echo in the corridor as I stride toward the armory. Time for the real conversation.
“WARRIORS!” My voice carries through the training yards, the stables, every corner where real soldiers gather instead of playing politics. “TO ME!”
They come running. Marcus, Henrik, Captain Reeves, and two dozen others who’ve been waiting for this moment since I started asking hypothetical questions about fortress breaches.
“Change of plans,” I tell them. “We’re not sneaking out after the wedding. We’re leaving now.”
“What about the court?” Marcus asks.
“Fuck the court. They made their choice. Now I’m making mine.”
The bond flickers in my chest—stronger now, urgent. Like Lucy knows something’s happening.
“Saddle up,” I order. “We ride within the hour.”
“Where to?” Captain Reeves asks, though his grin says he already knows.
“To war.”