All Chapters of MATED TO MY BROTHER'S ENEMY : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The Merchant's TaleMaster Cornelius spread ledgers out across the tavern table with the careful attention of a man whose bread depended on precise record-keeping. His knotted fingers pursued columns of figures that told a more telling story than any spy report - the economic foundation upon which Kael's insurrection had been based was crumbling faster than anyone realized."The northern province grain shipments stopped three weeks ago," he answered, his voice barely above the evening noise in the tavern. "Not by military action, but because the farmers won't take payment in the debased silver of Kael anymore."Princess Lyra studied the merchant's books, her sensitive sense perceiving the good intentions underlying his willingness to risk all and receive her envoys. She could feel his fear of being caught but his deeper anger at all that corruption had done to fair trade."How low?" Marcus asked, handling coins Cornelius drew from a hidden pouch."Forty percent base metal, with enough

The Oracle's VisionThe opening of the cave looked like any other from the forest path, just one additional shadow among twisted roots of old oaks. But as Princess Lyra approached, her attuned abilities sensed something that made her slow down - a being so ancient and powerful it appeared to distort reality itself, as river stones distorted a stream's path.Elder Thornweave gestured towards the door with the gentle rustlings of leaves blown by the wind. "The Oracle has agreed to meet with you, Princess. But know that her vision is paid for in ways that cannot be measured in advance."Marcus automatically checked his arms, even though he and Lyra knew well that metal would mean nothing to whatever dwelled within these depths. "How old is she, exactly?""Old enough to remember when your line first seized dominance over these shores," the druid replied. "Old enough to have advised kings whose names are forgotten to all but the stones themselves."They descended into darkness that swallow

Training for CombatPractice sword cut through the air in the morning as Lyra moved effortlessly through combat forms that would have been beyond her a few weeks ago. Her body had adapted to rigorous training with the enhanced healing that her omega powers gave her once she had tapped into them, and she was able to push physical limits that would have caused pain to ordinary warriors.Marcus danced around her with killer fluidity, his own sword testing her defenses with strokes that increased faster and harder than she had ever seen before. "Better. But you're still thinking too much. Let the empathic senses guide the movement."She sidestepped to the side from the push, her sharpened awareness perceiving his plan by emotional resonance instead of waiting for the visual input. The sword that was aimed to strike her between the ribs went through the air harmlessly as she shifted into a riposte that sent him retreating."Excellent work," Captain Nara bellowed from the edge of the traini

The Southern AllianceThe great hall of Winterhold Castle lay before Marcus like a battlefield where the weapons were words and honor was more valuable than gold. Seated at the massive stone table were five clan lords, their gruff faces the embodiment of the disbelief of men who had lived through decades of broken vows and shattered alliances."Sir Marcus," Ironpeak's Chief Aldwin replied, his own voice echoing with the ring of command founded upon respect, not fear. "You ask what you cannot pay for. No promise of gold dowry, no promise of easy warfare. What do you suggest the Northern Clans get in exchange for our warriors' blood?"Marcus stood without moving nearer the table, custom demanding that he prove himself worthy to sit among equals. "I bring truth, Chief Aldwin. War against corruption, if you don't join our war.""Speak." Chief Mordane of Grimhold leaned forward, his battle-scarred face showing professional interest."The corruption that tainted Prince Kael did not observe

Army of the HeartThe valley whose voices rose not in cries of war but in song that carried hope across miles of terrain where despair had reigned long unchallenged. Princess Lyra stood on a natural ridge overlooking the conclave, her heightened senses reading emotions that flamed like beacon lights in the hearts of thousands who had flowed in from all corners of the kingdom to be part of what was now no longer just a war campaign.Under her, warriors of mountain clans sat with merchants of the Free Cities by campfires, their laughter bridging cultural divides that had been vast for centuries. River Selkie scouts arrived to inform of gains made without a drop of blood having been shed, and druid healers tended wounds as much spiritual as physical."Fifty thousand at last count," Marcus informed her, glancing at tallies that grew by the hour as more contingents arrived. "But less than half of those are ordinary soldiers. The rest." He gestured towards children with their families, elde