"Blood magic," Dain said, sounding disgusted. "Do you honestly think she'd give up her throne and wander the world as blood-debt killed her piece by piece simply to be rid of me?"

Alluin didn't answer, looking down at his glass of scotch, his ears shifting with slight movements, the same casual assessment of the room my guards did with habitual ease. I took another sip of mine, thinking about everything with the slow care of examining a new climbing route.

"Lady Theynorë and Aleksandr used blood-magic poison," I said into the silence. "We never found out where they got it from."

Dain growled at the memory, the sound rumbling through me. "This all feels so... haphazard. Almost amateurish. It's not as if my mother is inexperienced in scheming, and she has the power of the Court at her command." His tails flicked in an expression of uneasiness. "I've never known her to make rash moves, or to hurry when merely waiting would win her what she wanted. She has the throne, and no reason to leave it. She could spend a hundred thousand years weaving a trap for me that I would never see, rather than racing through the few weeks since the Court of Mercy came to peace with us messily throwing together a plan like this. What could possibly drive her to such recklessness?"

I clonked my head back against his shoulder, making him grunt. "Me, Dain," I said. "I changed the balance, and you changed yourself for me. You're not stalking around giving everyone death-glares anymore, and people are noticing. For a long time, you had the armies, and she had the High Court. What happens when the High Court no longer despises you?"

The two men were silent for a long while.

"I think she's right. Leah's too good of an influence, and she's losing sway," Alluin said at last, breaking the silence.

I held out my glass, and Alluin clinked his crystal against my coffee mug. It had a ceramic octopus in the bottom, which I found delightful. Enjoy your scotch bath, funky little guy.

"Gods," Alluin said with a groan, sinking back into the couch. "Even if everything we're laying at her feet belongs there, this still doesn't make sense to me. Why would she become obsessed with hatred to the point of accepting death into her own body? Even if that were to happen, why make our prince Regent, which only gives the High Court a chance to see that Dain's capable of leading them?"