The war table was covered in maps and soot-smudged scrolls, lit by cold moonlight through the high window. Katherine stood at the center, her hand tracing red-inked routes southward.
“We start with Lord Varrick," she said, voice clear. “He funded the bounty. He bought the mercenaries. He planted that psychic blade in my head."
Damian leaned forward, eyes storm-gray. “He also bribed your elders. The Graywood treachery wasn't a mistake—it was orchestration."
Katherine nodded. “He wanted the treaty broken. If I died, the north would strike back, and the war would make him rich."
He passed her a scroll. “Ledgers we intercepted from Arius's stash. Southern shipments diverted. Food marked for the famine zones—never arrived."
She scanned the numbers, her jaw tightening. “They faked the famin
