LOGINTHE CUP THAT DECIDES FATEThe bush was quiet in the way traps were quiet.Latina felt it the moment she stepped through the narrow path. No birds. No insects. The air pressed close, thick and watchful. Every rustle of leaves sounded like a warning. Her hand hovered near the hilt of her dagger, though she did not need it. Not yet.Vanguard stepped out from behind the trees, shadows stretching across his face.“Late,” he said, voice low, edged with something she had not felt in years.“I came the moment your message reached me,” Latina replied evenly, her eyes scanning every detail of his posture, the tension in his shoulders. “You never summon me without reason.”His gaze held hers. Dark. Sharp. Not lustful. Not patient. Something raw, deliberate, lethal.“Things have changed,” Vanguard said, and it was not a suggestion.Latina’s hand brushed against her belt. “You don’t call me into the bush to discuss weather,” she said lightly, but her mind was calculating.He took a step closer, fi
WHEN PROXIMITY BECOMES POWERThe strike ended before dawn, but the unease did not.Lucia’s son stood at the edge of the ravine, watching smoke thin into the morning sky. The supply wagons burned low, wheels cracked, grain spilling uselessly into the dirt. It should have felt like victory. Clean. Satisfying.Instead, it felt measured.“Too easy,” Enzo said behind him.Lucia’s son did not turn. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed as if the answer might rise from the ashes if he stared long enough.“They pulled back early,” Enzo continued. “No reinforcements. No pursuit.”Lucia’s son nodded once. He had noticed the same thing. Vanguard never bled without intent.Footsteps approached from the right.The girl stopped beside him without being called.“They wanted the route blocked, not destroyed,” she said calmly. “Delay. Confusion. Not starvation.”Lucia’s son glanced at her. “You’re certain.”She met his eyes without hesitation. “Yes.”Enzo’s gaze sharpened. “You speak as if you were there w
THE GIRL WITH TWO FACES Night did not arrive gently. It fell. Torches hissed out one by one along the outer routes, smoke curling low as fog rolled in from the hills. The kind of fog that swallowed sound and bent distance. The kind Vanguard favored. Lucia’s son felt it before he saw it. “Too quiet,” Enzo muttered beside him. Lucia’s son slowed his steps. “Spread.” The men obeyed without argument. Boots shifted. Steel whispered free. Then the first body hit the ground. A scream cut short. A throat opened somewhere to the left. “Contact,” Enzo snapped. Steel rang. Shapes burst from the fog. Six. No. More. “Hold the line,” Lucia’s son ordered. They collided. A blade scraped his ribs. He twisted, buried his knife under a jaw, shoved the body aside. Another came low. He blocked. Countered. Blood sprayed warm against his cheek. “Left,” Enzo shouted. Lucia’s son turned.. Too late. A blade arced for his spine. Something slammed into him. Hard. He staggered forward as s
THE WOMAN THEY FORGOTThe corridor outside the council chamber felt narrower than it ever had.Lucia walked alone.No guards. No attendants. No Vanguard at her shoulder reminding her who watched, who listened, who whispered. Just the echo of her boots against stone and the weight of a decision pressing against her ribs.Denounce him.The words had followed her all night.Denounce your son.Erase him publicly.Reclaim what you have lost.Vanguard had spoken it softly in their chamber, as if it were mercy.Lucia’s fingers brushed the hilt at her side.She had almost agreed.That was the part that sickened her.Almost.She stopped before the doors. Drew a slow breath. Thought of her son standing at Palermo’s gates. Thought of the way he had not bowed. Not begged.Guerrero’s blood did not beg.Nor did hers.The doors opened.Conversation died mid breath.Councilmen turned. Some startled. Some amused. Some openly contemptuous.Lucia stepped inside.She did not sit.She stood at the head of
WHEN A QUEEN REFUSES TO BLEED QUIETLYThe laughter did not fade quickly.It lingered in the council hall, thick and ugly, bouncing off stone like rot echoing in a closed wound. Scarred men slapped tables. A few councilors forced smiles they did not feel. Others stared straight ahead, knowing better than to react.Lucia stood.The sound was small. A chair sliding back.It cut the laughter in half.Vanguard did not move. He watched her from the corner of his eye, posture relaxed, one hand resting lightly on the arm of his chair. He looked like a man who already knew the ending.Lucia stepped forward.No crown. No raised voice.Just her.“You laugh,” she said calmly.The room quieted, confused by the lack of fire.“You laugh because you think power is loud,” Lucia continued. “Because you think cruelty is strength.”A scarred man scoffed. “We laugh because you hesitate.”Lucia’s gaze snapped to him. Sharp. Precise.“I hesitate,” she said, “because once words are spoken in this hall, they
THE CITY CHOOSES ITS POISONThe silence after blood recognized blood did not bring relief.It pressed.It followed Lucia through corridors, clung to the stone walls, lingered in the breath of servants who lowered their eyes as she passed. Palermo had seen her step between steel. Palermo had seen hesitation where there had once been command.The city never forgot moments like that.Vanguard walked beside her through the palace halls, his stride even, unhurried, as though nothing of consequence had happened at the gates. Guards straightened when they saw him. Some avoided his gaze. Others met it too eagerly.He noticed everything.A captain approached and bowed. “Orders, my lord.”Vanguard did not slow. “Replace the men on the east wall.”“With whom.”“Men who did not falter.”The captain hesitated. “And the ones already stationed.”Vanguard stopped walking.The corridor seemed to narrow.“They are relieved,” Vanguard said mildly. “Effective immediately.”The captain swallowed. “Relieve







