Vera and Caldrin made their way through Marrowfen as Vera mentally prepared herself.

  Since the central plaza in front of the Marrowvault’s aboveground spire—where many of the city’s most important administrative buildings, including the Pale Hall, had stood—was largely reduced to rubble during the attack, most official gatherings were now being held in smaller venues scattered throughout the city. Today’s, however, was the largest since the assault, so it had been arranged at the estate of a wealthy figure in one of Marrowfen’s more affluent districts.

  It wasn’t an area Vera had spent much time in, and she didn’t know her way around, but that was what she had Caldrin for.

  They passed several extensive manors carved from bone, though the material differed between most. Some were deep gray, some almost ivory, and others marbled with dark veins. The architecture itself was interesting, seeming almost to reflect the lineages that owned them, but Vera preferred the simpler buildings across the rest of Marrowfen.

  Their destination was a sprawling estate with tall walls and a bone gate shaped like interlocking spines. A number of carriages and mounts stood lined up in the courtyard, their attendants waiting off to the side. The men at the entrance straightened as Vera and Caldrin approached. They greeted Caldrin by name but froze completely when he introduced her.

  It was only after Vera gave a small, polite nod of greeting that they seemed to remember themselves and hurriedly apologized for their stammering before guiding the two of them inside toward a larger hall built into the estate’s central wing.

  Inside, Vera was surprised to find Vanded and Gard among the first faces they met. The Chapter-Master and Vice-Master of Hollowstone Table stood by the wall near the entrance, both turning toward her as she entered.

  “Mournvale!” Vanded’s grin split wide as he pushed off from the wall. “Was beginning to think you’d sold us on promises and left us in this ditch. Should’ve known better than to think you’d abandon an old friend in need, hah.”

  He set a heavy hand on her shoulder, the weight behind it making her shift slightly, then offered a nod to Caldrin.

  “We walked here after dropping Serel off,” Vera said, reaching up to brush his arm aside. She lowered her hood and slipped off her jacket, exposing the sigil-scars running along her forearms as her hair returned to its natural silver-gray.

  “How’s the little runt?” Vanded asked. “She missing her favorite uncle?”

  “Doubt it. She hasn’t mentioned your name all morning.”

  His grin faltered. “Not once?”

  Vera shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, she didn’t seem all that torn up about leaving me either. I left her at The Bleeding Chalice. The matron’s daughter has her completely enamored. First friend she’s had.”

  “Ah.” Understanding softened Vanded’s face. “One of the pains of parenthood, having to watch your child grow and learn to stand apart from you. Few things sting quite like it.”

  He patted her shoulder again, grin returning. “But there’s no sweeter nectar than watching her find her own joy. You’ll look back on this with pride one day.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Vera pushed his hand off again.

  Vanded laughed. “Besides, Hilde’s girl is a good one. Talks enough for five grown Table members and twice as quick-witted. Good influence for a kid Serel’s age.”

  “Mm. Not arguing.”

  Vera’s gaze shifted to Gard, who inclined his head slightly. “You have our thanks for agreeing to be present today, Lady Mournvale. I know it isn’t what you’d prefer, but both the Chapter-Master and I appreciate it sincerely.”

  “That we do!” Vanded boomed, his voice echoing through the hallway. “These meetings are a pain to sit through, so having you around to shut their mouths for just an afternoon’ll be worth its weight in crowns.”

  The attendants nearby exchanged awkward looks, subtly inching away from the loud man. Gard gave Vera a sorry glance.

  “My apologies for his… enthusiasm,” he said quietly, leaning closer to her. “And once more, thank you.”

  “It’s fine.” Vera waved a hand. Then she gestured briefly toward Caldrin. “I thought that since he’s already been helping with things here, showing up like this once is the least I can do.”

  She really hadn’t wanted to get involved in Marrowfen’s rebuilding or politics at all. But leaving all of it to others didn’t sit entirely right either, so this had been her way of easing her conscience.

  Even if she was inwardly regretting it.

  Public appearances just weren’t her thing. They never had been. Sure, she’d given a few forced speeches in school and the sort, and she wasn’t socially anxious, but she’d always hated being the center of attention. Doing it now, as Veralyth Mournvale—a name that actually meant something here—felt like wading in water way over her head.

  She’d have preferred fighting a Silent Lord again.

  One of the attendants cleared his throat carefully and gestured toward a set of double doors further ahead. “The assembly is ready for you.”

  “Right, let’s get this over with,” Vanded said, clapping his hands together. He looked at Vera. “Want a tip? Don’t bother listening to more than half of what’s said in there. Just so happens the other half are people I wouldn’t mind giving a right hook to. Cuts down on how often you’ll want to tear someone’s spine out.”

  The attendants blanched.

  “Chapter-Master,” Gard warned.

  “Hmm?” Vanded eyed him, then scratched his beard. “Right. Might not be much of a problem for you, Mournvale. Doubt any of them’s got the spine to speak against you anyway.”

  Vera looked at him, then at Gard, who gave a small, resigned shake of his head as if to suggest she ignore him entirely.

  …She briefly wondered if Vanded belonged in that other half he mentioned.

  They entered the chamber beyond the doors. Vera had already heard the muffled echo of voices from inside, but the moment they stepped through, the noise died.

  Several dozen eyes turned toward them.

  The chamber was broad and tiered a bit like an auditorium, with rows of seats rising along the sides and a raised dais at the far end where a speaking podium stood. Polished marrowstone chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a pale, steady light across the room and the faces gathered within it. Vera’s gaze passed over them, but she barely recognized any.

  Supposedly, this was about everyone of real influence left in Marrowfen, save for those too far away or who couldn’t attend: members of merchant groups, guild masters, house representatives, and other notable figures that appeared for the city’s people. Those who were deemed to have any sway had been invited here.

  The purpose was pretty simply. They had to figure out how to move forward. Who would lead the city, and what would replace or rebuild the Boneward Concord now that it had been effectively gutted from within.

  Many of the power structures that had supported the Concord were gone or crippled in the aftermath, and while it could probably theoretically be reformed, there would understandably be some doubts surrounding an institution that had nearly been partially involved in all their demise.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Vera felt the weight of the stares as they walked into the chamber, following Caldrin’s lead toward a row of seats near the front, closest to the dais. The sound of their footsteps echoed sharply in the silence, but she kept her face impassive, forcing herself not to think about all the attention.

  Caldrin took the seat beside her, with Vanded and Gard settling to his left. Vanded barely fit in his chair, arms crossed, shoulders filling half the space around him.

  It would’ve been a funny sight if this were any other moment. Something worth capturing if she’d had a Wick of her own.

  Maybe she’d draw it later and show it to Serel.

  A voice carried from the dais. “Perhaps it’s time we begin.”

  Vera’s eyes lifted to an older man stepping up to the podium. His hair was mostly silver, his beard trimmed short, and a polished cane rested lightly in his hand. His posture was slightly stooped, but the air around him was that of someone who belonged.

  She didn’t recognize him personally, but Caldrin had mentioned and met with him several times in the past days. This was probably Rathor Grandhair, who’d once served the Boneward Concord as the previous High Warden well before the tribulations began. He was a respected name in the city.

  She didn’t sense any remarkable Resonance from him—Seventh Binding at most—but he carried himself like someone used to being listened to.

  “First,” he said, voice steady as he swept his gaze across the chamber, “we should begin with a word of gratitude.” His eyes found Vera specifically. “Veralyth Mournvale. There is not one person in this hall who would still be here were it not for your actions—both in stopping the Silent Lord and in the service you have rendered all of the domains before now.”

  He bowed his head. “From the bottom of my heart, and on behalf of my family and all who depend on us, you have our thanks.”

  Vera didn’t move.

  Fabric rustled around her as others lowered their heads in turn. Not everyone did, but many. Soft murmurs of appreciation rippled through the chamber.

  When it quieted, she still sat motionless. Honestly, she felt like bolting right there and then.

  What was it about having people thank her like this that always made her feel so awkward and suffocating? It was like her skin didn’t quite fit right whenever it happened.

  But Rathor was still watching her, waiting. So, after a moment, she gave a single small nod.

  The old man’s mouth curved faintly before he turned back to the hall. “Lady Mournvale has honored us with her presence today and has lent her time and resources toward Marrowfen’s recovery. Let us hope what we decide here will prove worthy of that faith and guide this city toward stability again.”

  A low murmur passed through the seats.

  “With that said,” he continued, “let us move to the first matter on the agenda.”

  Vera folded her arms, leaning back slightly as the proceedings began. She tried to follow along—who spoke, who deferred—but most of the names meant little to her. Her understanding of Marrowfen’s inner structure came mostly from Caldrin’s summaries over the past few days, and that made it somewhat hard to keep up.

  From what she gathered, though, the opening hour was mostly spent reviewing Marrowfen’s current situation, discussing things like the logistics of food, housing, and trade lines. Largely just rehashing information for those who hadn’t attended any of the earlier gatherings that had taken place. Rathor did most of the talking, though others occasionally stepped forward to add their own reports.

  After that came the real discussion of what came next.

  Anyone could approach the podium to speak, though Vera noted that it was mostly the wealthier or more entrenched members who actually did.

  Contrary to the sentiment she’d sensed in the city over the past days, a surprising number of speakers argued that the Boneward Concord should simply be reinstated, debating only the details of who would fill its seats.

  Vera had almost expected these people to demand something entirely new and not cling to what had failed them. But she soon realized that their instincts were different from hers. What she saw as collapse, they saw as a wound to mend rather than a system to abandon.

  And in a way, she supposed that made sense.

  Marrowfen was an isolated, largely independent city-state. The Concord had been its spine for generations, and the name still carried weight within and beyond its borders. It was also part of the city’s identity. Even among the less influential people present here, they didn’t seem ready to throw that legacy away.

  Vera found herself actually listening with mild interest as various proposals came up. Some suggested elections, others merit-based appointments, or rotating seats chosen by guild influence. In the old structure, the High Warden had been the only position voted among peers, while the other seats were inherited or directly appointed, with little oversight beyond the Warden’s power to challenge them before the rest of the Concord. Even that, though, had relied on cooperation that clearly hadn’t existed to a large enough extent.

  The first suggestion to gain any real traction came from Rathor himself. He proposed forming a temporary governing council to guide the city through the coming months and oversee the reestablishment of the Boneward Concord under a new structure—one that included clearer checks on its members and at least some form of elective process for its seats.

  The suggestion wasn’t a surprise to Vera. She was aware that Gard, Caldrin, and Vanded had all been working with Rathor to shape and garner support for this idea, believing it to be a practical and stable solution. Something that could actually be implemented without the city tearing itself apart in the process, and that would help prevent a similar scenario from occurring any time soon.

  Vera hadn’t voiced her stance. She had her doubts about how democratic any elective process they actually decided on would turn out, but she did prefer this over most of the other alternatives, and it also did seem like something that might suit this place better than the systems she knew.

  If it worked, she’d support it. If it didn’t, maybe she’d speak up then.

  That said, not everyone agreed.

  The first notable opposition came from a tall, narrow-shouldered man who spoke at length about the naivety and dangers of Rathor’s plan—as well as almost every other proposal that had been discussed before. Vera wasn’t even sure if he had his own proposal, since it had been lost in his self-important arguing. From the sounds of it, though, she imagined he leaned toward changing nothing with the current Concord.

  And he wasn’t the only one. His speech was soon followed by another in much the same vein, and then another after that.

  With each person that spoke, the noise in the chamber rose, both from those angered at these men and those agreeing with them. The latter group seemed smaller, but they were much louder and included a not insignificant number of individuals in high positions. Voices began to overlap as figures spoke over one another, trading jabs more than arguments. The discussion unraveled into chaos, and with so many gathered, it didn’t appear like much more progress would be made.

  Vera heard the cracking of wood beside her.

  She turned her head to see Vanded, fury written plain across his face, the armrest beneath his hand splintered where his grip had tightened.

  Her eyes flicked across the chamber again.

  She could understand his anger.

  It was fairly obvious what was happening.

  The Concord hadn’t fallen by accident. Half its members being Whitefinger’s allies wasn’t coincidence. It meant infiltration, collusion, and complicity. Some of the people sitting here now were likely the same ones who’d helped make it happen. And they knew that if something like Rathor’s plan went forward, they’d be the first to be rooted out.

  So they were stalling. Harassing. Drowning the discussion.

  Honestly…

  It made Vera angry as well.

  Her Resonance surged.

  The effect was immediate. The chamber went dead quiet. Faces paled. A few people clutched at their throats as if the air had turned too thin to breathe.

  “I see some of you have forgotten what polite discourse looks like,” she said, and it barely required any effort for her voice to carry throughout the space. Her gaze swept the room, stopping briefly on certain faces that flinched when her eyes met theirs. “Let me be the one to remind you that this assembly is meant to work toward Marrowfen’s future. From where I’m standing, it seems some of you don’t care for that. So allow me to make this simple—if you’d rather bicker like children, I don’t particularly care for your name or station. I will personally see to your removal from this chamber.”

  A heavy weight lingered in the wake of her words, even as she let her Resonance settle down to normal levels. Among the crowd, she saw awe, unease, and fear.

  It left a complicated taste in her mouth, evoking all of those things, but she didn’t let it show.

  After a long silence, Rathor was the first to take the podium again. “Lady Mournvale’s words are harsh,” he said, tone calm, “but not misplaced. We are all gathered here for the same reason, and this matter is far too important to descend into insults and disruption.”

  His gaze drifted over the assembly, seeming to land on the tall man who had started the outburst. The man’s jaw tightened, but when Vera’s eyes turned to him, he immediately looked away.

  Vera watched him—and the few others who had joined his chorus—but said nothing further.

  It probably wasn’t wise for Vanded to strong-arm these people into cooperation. For her, though, it didn’t really matter what they thought of her or said behind her back.

  Thankfully, the discussions resumed. Slower this time, quieter, and without any major interruptions. Even if the assembly didn’t magically reach a full agreement, she could at least tell that it steadied enough and that Rathor’s proposal about the temporary governing council held decent traction.

  Vera was listening to a man speak on representation within that council when she suddenly felt something shift, like a flicker at the edge of her awareness.

  Her posture straightened slightly as she glanced around the chamber, but nothing seemed out of place. It wasn’t a sound or a movement. Just a presence brushing faintly against her senses. Unfamiliar, yet somehow familiar.

  And it seemed to be… moving?

  Her eyes lifted to the ceiling, then to the far wall, as if she could peer through it toward the source. Whatever it was, she realized that it probably wasn’t within the city. It was somewhere far beyond Marrowfen’s bounds, moving west.

  A faint frown creased her brow as she focused on that lingering thread, a foreboding unease stirring inside her.

  What was that?