The banquet hall sparkled with crystal lights and polished steel—too much elegance for a fortress built on blood.
Amber stood beside Raven at the head table, surrounded by lieutenants, advisors, and officers from outposts that once refused to kneel. Tonight was supposed to be a diplomatic show of unity. But she had another purpose.
“You don't have to do this," Raven murmured, his hand resting over hers beneath the table.
“Yes, I do," she replied, fingers tightening. “They won't believe files. They need to *feel* it."
A violin quartet played softly near the far end of the room. Plates clinked. Conversations buzzed. The officers smiled—but their shoulders were tense. Everyone could sense a shift, but no one dared name it.
Amber stepped forward and raised her voice.
“May I offer a song
