Page 48 of Unravelled
One by one, the advisors filed out, leaving only the echo of their boots and the hush of fading tension. The great doors closed with a soft, final sound. Ren didn’t speak for a moment. His hands rested lightly on the table’s edge, as he looked up, not at Tharion. But at the gallery above.
"You can come down now,” a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re gone.”
Mira stepped down the spiral stairs and out from the shadows. The air below felt different, heavier, now that the council was gone. Only the soft crackle of fire and the distant creak of banners overhead remained.
Tharion watched her with the faintest furrow between his brows, but he said nothing more. Not yet. Ren stood at the head of the table, where the king’s seal still pressed faintly into the candlelit wax before him. Ren didn’t look tired. He looked alive, sharp, grounded, present in a way she’d never seen in him before. Then he turned to her fully.
“What do you think?” The words were simple. Unadorned. She hesitated, just a breath. He was asking her. Not as a courtesy. Not as an afterthought. As an equal. She stepped closer, her arms loose at her sides.
“You’ve bought yourself time,” she said, voice quiet but sure. “And a narrow path forward.” Ren nodded once, waiting. “But that room was full of knives, Ren.” Her eyes flicked to Tharion, then back. “You’ll need more than strategy. You’ll need loyalty. From people who owe you nothing.”
He didn’t flinch. “The decisions that are coming won’t leave room for fence-sitting,” he said. “And you’re both tied to the resistance, so that makes things tricky.”
Mira stiffened. “How did you know?”
“Clever work leaves a trace. Few could’ve taken down that travelling convoy and vanished." Ren’s mouth curved into a smile. "And then there was Tharion’s injury, followed by his sudden absence. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”
Mira didn’t deny it. She didn’t need to. “I’m not here to punish you for it,” Ren went on. “I actually need you carry the word back.” He looked between them now, nothing about his posture defensive. Just honest.
"Not orders. No threats. I want to show them we are trying.” Ren’s voice softened slightly, not losing its edge, but gaining weight. “Tell them we’ve named no enemies. That there are no executions coming in the night. That we want to listen to them.” He paused.
“But tell them I will fight. If I must. I will not let this kingdom fall apart while we argue over its ashes.” Mira met his gaze. She saw not just a man seeking power to rule but one choosing it with the people and kingdom at his core.
???
Mira pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping into the lingering warmth of the castle’s kitchen. The scent of roasted herbs and baked roots clung to the air, mingling with the fading smoke of the hearth.
Tonights evening meal had long been cleared, but its ghosts remained, red wine stains on counters, a flicker of firelight across hanging pans, the hush of a place that had once been full. The space felt different now. Not just quieter, expectant.
At the long oak table, usually alive with flour-dusted hands and the thrum of knives on cutting boards, Torvyn leaned against the table’s edge.His fingers tapping with a restless rhythm. Brahn stood beside him, arms crossed, his posture sharp with restrained energy. Neither wore the flush of wine or the ease of celebration. They were untouched by the revelry of the solstice night. Their tunics remained crisp, their postures rigid.
The celebrations had passed them by completely, overshadowed by duty, by war, by burdens that never lifted. Mira stepped closer, the parchment in her hand still faintly creased from where Ren had pressed it into her palm. It wasn’t just a letter, it was the first ripple of the new tide. She placed it between them.
“This is the plan,” she said. Her voice was steady, threaded with the weight of what she’d just seen. “Ren’s first orders as regent.” Torvyn looked down at the paper, shocked. Brahn raised a brow. Not in surprise, but recognition.
“Reinforcements to the eastern border,” she continued. “Quietly. No banners, no fanfare.” Her gaze flicked to the letter again. “Food, medicine, repairs. He’s sending aid to the outer districts before the end of summer.” Brahn unfolded the parchment, scanning it in silence. Torvyn’s fingers stilled.
“And the unrest?” Brahn asked.
Mira didn’t hesitate. “He wants to know their names. Their reasons. No arrests. No executions.” A beat passed. “He wants to listen. First.”
Brahn’s lips twitched, like he wasn’t sure whether to scoff or smirk.
Torvyn’s voice cut in, “You were there. In the observatory?”
Mira met his eyes. “Yes.”
“You weren’t summoned?” Torvyn stared at her, eyes wide, the words escaping in a breathless mix of worry and concern.
“No,” she said.
Brahn made a sound, a soft laugh of disbelief. “This is… unexpected,” he said. “Though not as unexpected as your performance with Lord Asric.”
Mira tilted her head, “Was it convincing?”
“Very,” Brahn said, mouth curling.
“She stole the letter right off him,” Torvyn muttered.
