Empire of Ashes

THE ASHFORDS

Elena

The summit ended three hours later.

Three very long hours.

The Council presented military reports. Economic forecasts. Territorial maps. Trade projections. Threat assessments.

By the end of it, half the room looked exhausted.

The other half looked ready to start another argument.

I understood both reactions.

The situation was worse than I had expected.

Several kingdoms were already fighting openly. Trade routes between northern territories had collapsed. Entire border towns were changing hands every few weeks. According to military intelligence, at least three rulers were secretly preparing for larger conflicts.

Peace wasn’t dying.

It was already dead.

The kingdoms simply hadn’t buried it yet.

I left the chamber before another debate could begin.

The corridors outside felt quieter. Cooler.

For the first time all day, I could think.

Unfortunately, that didn’t last long.

“Elena!”

I sighed.

There were only two people capable of saying my name like that.

One was Lyra.

The other was a natural disaster.

A moment later my sister appeared beside me.

Princess Lyra Ashford was seventeen years old and possessed enough curiosity to investigate every secret in the continent if given enough time. Unlike me, she loved people. She collected conversations the way scholars collected books.

“Father wants everyone at dinner.”

Of course he did.

“Why?”

“Family meeting.”

I immediately became suspicious.

Family meetings in royal households rarely involved family.

They usually involved politics disguised as family.

Lyra linked her arm through mine.

“Try not to interrogate everyone.”

“I don’t interrogate people.”

“You absolutely interrogate people.”

“I ask questions.”

“Relentlessly.”

“Details.”

She laughed.

For a moment, I forgot about alliances, wars, and councils.

That was Lyra’s gift.

The ability to make impossible situations feel normal.

The Ashford residence occupied an entire section of the Imperial Palace complex. While the royal families stayed in Eryndor, each kingdom had been granted its own wing.

The Ashford Wing felt different from the rest of the palace.

Warmer.

Less formal.

Less interested in impressing people.

I stepped through the doors and immediately heard arguing.

Normal.

Very normal.

“That is not how strategy works.”

“It worked.”

“It was reckless.”

“It was successful.”

“It was reckless and successful.”

I smiled despite myself.

Cassian and Rowan.

Again.

My younger brother and cousin had been arguing for as long as I could remember.

Prince Cassian Ashford sat in an armchair holding a book. At nineteen, he was one of the smartest people I knew. Quiet, patient, and dangerously observant. Most people underestimated him because he preferred listening to speaking.

Those people usually regretted it.

Across from him sprawled Rowan Ashford.

Rowan was twenty, charming, reckless, and somehow survived despite making terrible decisions with remarkable confidence. If chaos ever became a profession, Rowan would become its king.

My cousins were already gathered as well.

Marcus Ashford stood near the fireplace. At twenty-two, he was broad-shouldered, strong, and looked more like a battlefield commander than a noble. He approached most problems with confidence and very little fear.

Beside him sat Selena Ashford.

Where Marcus was loud, Selena was quiet. Her intelligence often went unnoticed because she rarely interrupted people. She simply waited for them to finish being wrong.

The Ashford cousins were less relatives and more additional siblings.

We had grown up together.

Trained together.

Fought together.

The kingdoms saw future rulers.

We saw family.

A laugh escaped me.

Both Cassian and Rowan looked up.

“Elena.”

Rowan immediately sat forward.

“Oh good. Settle this.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard the argument.”

“I don’t need to.”

“That’s unfair.”

“You involve explosions in every strategy discussion.”

“Because explosions solve problems.”

Cassian pointed at him.

“See?”

I shook my head.

Some battles weren’t worth fighting.

A familiar voice interrupted us.

“My children.”

Everyone immediately straightened.

King Alexander Ashford entered the room.

My father carried himself like the military commander he had once been. Even after years on the throne, he looked more comfortable leading armies into battle than attending royal dinners.

Behind him walked Queen Cassandra.

Unlike my father, my mother never needed to raise her voice to command attention. Intelligence was her weapon of choice, and she used it with terrifying precision.

The room changed instantly.

Not because anyone was afraid.

Because they commanded respect naturally.

Different styles.

Same effect.

Dinner was already prepared.

The long table overlooked one of Eryndor’s gardens, where glowing flowers illuminated the evening landscape beyond the windows.

For a few minutes, conversation remained normal.

Lyra discussed festival markets.

Rowan told a story nobody believed.

Cassian corrected historical inaccuracies.

Selena quietly judged everyone.

Marcus focused almost entirely on food.

Family.

Actual family.

Not rulers.

Not heirs.

Just family.

Then my father ruined it.

“So.”

Every Ashford immediately became suspicious.

Alexander smiled.

“How was the summit?”

There it was.

Politics.

I knew it.

“The continent is collapsing.”

“Good summary.”

“Thank you.”

My mother hid a smile behind her glass.

Cassian looked amused.

Traitor.

“The alliance?” Cassandra asked calmly.

The table became quiet.

Everyone wanted to know.

I considered the question.

Then answered honestly.

“I don’t know yet.”

That surprised them.

Mostly because I usually had opinions about everything.

“The Council believes it will prevent war,” I continued.

“Do you?” Marcus asked.

“I believe the Council is desperate.”

Nobody disagreed.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Then Lyra leaned forward.

“So what are the princes like?”

Of course she asked that.

I should have expected it.

“Which one?” Rowan added.

“The angry one or the scary one?”

I blinked.

“Those descriptions are concerningly accurate.”

The entire table laughed.

Even I couldn’t deny it.

Damien Blackthorne looked like he solved problems by fighting them.

Adrian Nightvale looked like he solved problems by predicting them.

Both approaches were dangerous.

Just differently.

Before anyone could continue questioning me, a servant entered the room.

The atmosphere shifted immediately.

The servant bowed.

“Your Majesties.”

My father nodded.

“What is it?”

The servant hesitated.

Never a good sign.

“The Blackthorne and Nightvale delegations have requested a private audience.”

Silence.

Then Lyra grinned.

Rowan grinned.

Marcus grinned.

Even Selena looked interested.

I immediately disliked where this was heading.

Very much.

My father looked entirely too amused.

My mother looked thoughtful.

And suddenly I had the horrible feeling that dinner was about to become significantly more complicated.

Because apparently surviving the Council wasn’t enough.

Now I had to survive Damien Blackthorne and Adrian Nightvale.

At the same table.

With my family watching.

This was going to be a disaster.

I could already tell.