Once everyone assembles, Sela's voice rings clear. "You may be seated."

Shuffling and murmurs of relief as Ladies settle bounce around the echoing room. My siblings and I remain standing.

Sela starts the meeting, going over routine matters, getting reports from Ladies, Mages, and Lieutenants. Underneath the mundane, a tension bubbles as we all wait for the real business to begin.

Finally, Sela says, "It has been brought to my attention that, aside from minor skirmishes, while there has only been one major attack on the wall, that attack did not end as well as we might have hoped. So, I believe it is prudent to look at new strategies. Does anyone have a word to impart?"

Reyan's head spins to stare Sela down. She looks straight forward, waiting on a response from the Ladies seated at the table. Not the army officers or the wizards, seated in the tiered stands. Not me or Reyan, who have trained for this our whole lives. No, the High Ladies and Inner Council, the first of which are politicians by birthright. The latter group is chosen by the Queen, but out of the ten, only two are Lieutenants and one a High Mage.

Sela has outsourced battle strategy to people who talk pretty for a living.

"Do you not think that battle was simply chance?" Inner Lady Temmarelle asks. "It seems unlikely that the northern savages can beat our men consistently."

"They beat our men all the way from the border to here," Reyan mutters.

Since the Inner Council Ladies tend to be the more dangerously intelligent of the two groups, I'm shocked at Temmarelle's ignorance—or arrogance, one. Then again, considering she owns a significant sector of N'veauvia's market, she's more built for business than battles.

"Even so," Sela says. "That's not a chance we want to take."

"The solution seems elementary to me," says High Lady Isaeda. "The soldiers simply need more motivation."

Murmuring arises among the wizards and officers in the tiering.

"What we need," Reyan says, "is less interference from women who sit on their—"

"Enough!" Sela hisses. He wasn't exactly loud, but I wonder how many heard him.

"I have a suggestion, Your Grace." Amidst the muttering, High Lady Aselle's voice carries like the tone of a pianoforte. Everyone turns to her. "If they want to fight us, then let us give them a real fight. Flood the wall with troops, no matter who's on duty. Throwing everything at them will make them spook, fall back, and think twice about coming at us again."

Reyan's voice rises over hers. "And leave us with nothing should we fail!"

"But we shan't fail!" High Lady Misanette says. "We have the wisdom of Jacqueline in our Queen and Princesse and the grace of her magic running through our people's veins. Morineaux will prevail."

"Not if she keeps no regard for her soldier's lives!" Reyan argues, but he goes unheard. Instead, cries of "Let it be!" punctuate smatters of applause, and Misanette, normally unpopular due to the backwater province she rules, blushes.

When the crowd has almost settled, Sela says, "Then let us take a vote!" She turns to our brother. "What says the Captain of the Court, First Son of Morineaux?"

"No," he growls.

Unfazed, she turns to me. "What says the Crown Prince, Second Son of Morineaux?"

Reyan might be useless when it comes to politics, but I trust his training. He knows battlefield strategy just as much as I know magic theory. "No."

Calling out the names of the High Ladies, Sela collects their decisions. All but Solitaena from Tiaeren, the border province the Kadranians already swept through, raise their crests and vote yes.

Sela nods thoughtfully, and everyone quiets, awaiting her final decision. She doesn't have to align with the vote, but it's rare for a ruler not to. "I have taken the counsel of the Table Arbitrate into consideration." She holds the moment out, collecting everyone's eyes. "The Table finds wisdom in the plan of High Lady Aselle, and I find wisdom in the Queen's Table. With the power bestowed on me by the line of my blood and the ring of my mother, I give my final verdict." She spreads her hands wide. "Let it be!"

The Ladies applaud, and I wonder if Sela thinks that catering to them is the same as building their support of her. The response is more mixed among the officers and wizards, and I find myself conflicted as well. If we don't manage to knock them back at the beginning of the battle, this will hit our troops hard. Rotation will be more difficult and rests will be shorter. Still, there is a chance that our men will give a strong opening salvo, like Aselle thinks, and the Kadranians will retreat to regroup. Perhaps we will have more skirmishes this way and fewer battles. Less bloodshed.

Let us hope.

Sela dismisses the meeting, and the Ladies all stand. Those in the tiered seats leave first, and in the glassed-in gallery above, spectators begin to break up as well.

"I won't enforce this, Sela," Reyan mutters.

She looks over at him. "No worries, brother. I'm sure your faithful Lieutenants will." She smiles as though she just relieved him of a menial task and turns to me. "How was tea?"

"They agreed." Barely.

"Good."

I regard her. "Sela," I start, voice low. "Do you realize how much you just alienated the Lieutenants and High Mages?"

She frowns. "But Reyan spoke, and there are Lieutenants and a Mage on the Inner Council."

"Yes, and during peacetime, I'm sure it makes sense to only have a couple of each, but we are at war, sister."

She draws herself up. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you presume to know more about running this court than I do?"

My hands come up placatingly. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do—"

She smiles, ice in her eyes. "Good."

"What I am saying is that it's not the people the Ladies have grown up under and beside who are risking their lives on the wall. Reyan and I, and the soldiers and the wizards, we're the ones that have been taught these things from our youth—"

Her lips are tight. "Do not assume that Mother did not speak of how to handle myself in war."

Jaw clenched, I watch her. It's as if she's deliberately mistaking my points for insults. Behind her, Reyan stares darkly ahead as the Table Arbitrate filters out.

Finally, I say, "I just think you should be careful."

"I will bear it in mind, brother."

I sigh and shake my head, turning away. This might work in favor of the magicians, if we can push them back quickly, but it's going to be a cramped nightmare for the soldiers.

The last Lady leaves, and I step down from the dais, making my way down the hall. Behind me, Reyan doesn't wait to leave with Sela, and the dais door slams.

* * *

The glittering chandelier's candlelight catches on the cream and silver dinnerware. A maid leans around me to fill my crystal wine glass. All twenty Inner and High Ladies dine with us, along with the husbands of those who have them. This example of pompous wastefulness is the first time I'm afforded a public courtesy that my uncrowned station shouldn't earn me—all three of us sit in the seats at the head of the table, designated for the presiding royalty. Reyan, of course, deserves to, Sela holds Mother's signet ring, and my predecessor will never take this seat again.

Sela raises her glass, and all go silent. "Ladies and lords, this night our country is oppressed by invaders, but we can hold our heads high."

High Lady Solitaena's eyes narrow. I'm sure many of her people tonight are dead or left with a village that was only home before it burned to the ground.

"We have plans to stop these savages and to push them back. Morineaux will not kneel before barbarians. To victories to come!" Her glass lifts higher.

Many of the Ladies and their husbands raise theirs immediately, but Solitaena's hand takes a moment to find her glass before lifting it. Mine comes up with Solitaena's. Reyan watches Sela. Tension thickens the air.

You're playing a dangerous game, brother. Hesitation is one thing; the point's been made. We need to appear unified.

His glass finds the air, half a cup-length below Sela's.

"To victories to come," echo the guests. My words are quiet, and in the corner of my eye, Lady Janeaulí watches me. Reyan doesn't even pretend to speak, and frustration fills me. It was a well-chosen end line on Sela's part; to stay silent, as Reyan has done, rejects future victories in general, but to speak is to accept all of what she said.

We drink.

With the traditional toast finished, dishes flourish onto the table. Sela picks up her fork, and we all eat.

"Have you noticed all the ravens to the east, Prince Aster?" Lady Janeaulí asks.

I glance at her. An Inner Lady, she must be someone of intellect and cunning. Mother didn't often pick types that weren't. Doesn't, I remind myself. My mother is alive.

"Yes, I have. They're especially visible from the wall. They hover around the Kadranians." As curious as I am where she intends to take this strange topic, not letting her simply lead it seems less likely to land me somewhere I don't want to be.

"In the northern parts of Laq'tarra, they're a common sight for most of the year, but I've never seen so many make it this far south."

"Perhaps they're Shadesnare-birds," Lady Temmarelle cuts in, "following the Kadranians from the north." A couple of the Ladies chuckle.

"Perhaps they're attracted by the carrion," Lady Solitaena says.

The tone of the room darkens, and Temmarelle says, "What an awful thing to say."

"How so? What do you care for the bodies of Kadranians?" She holds Temmarelle's gaze.

Solitaena's perversion of her own meaning gives Temmarelle pause. "Of course I would never!" She turns to her plate and takes a drink of wine.

Lady Isaeda turns to Lady Aselle. "Have you tasted the roast yet? I could nearly not pay attention to anything else."

Aselle laughs. "I would serve it to a Stellry, Lady Isaeda, no matter how many ravens were on the loose."

Lady Janeaulí picks back up the conversation, looking to me. "Where I grew up, we had a saying about the birds."

I don't suppose it was simply to leave them alone. "Yes?" I raise my fork to my lips.

"They say the raven often flies the way the wind blows. What do you think?"

I chew and swallow, watching her. I choose my words carefully. "I wouldn't know. I'm not a raven." I smile, earning a few small laughs from some of the Ladies.

Janeaulí smiles back and nods. "Of course not."

Emboldened and disliking that she chose to challenge me, I say, "Why, Lady Janeaulí? What do you think?"

Her eyebrows raise slightly, and she takes a small sip of wine. "I'd say the wind sometimes aids them, but in total, they fly the course they think best."

My head inclines. "That sounds wise to me."

She drops the conversation. As the dinner continues, I wonder what course Janeaulí intends to fly: with the winds of the court, or against the gale, into the storm. I hope to the stars our estimations of best converge, for I worry the Kadranians aren't the only enemies I'll need allies against.

Near the end, Aselle says, "Prince Aster?"

I look at her. "Yes?"

Her smile is wide. "It was so kind of you earlier to agree to take the load off of our"—she gestures to the other Ladies—"shoulders about your coronation." My eyes narrow, but before I can speak, she continues. "On behalf of all of us, I think, we wish you the ease and the favor of Jacqueline in arranging it."