She’s fighting a losing battle. Commander Ung Li’s soft spot for refugees from the Western Realm—save Gardnerians and Alfsigr—is not one of her popular stances. The tides of opinion in the Eastern Realm are turning. Before, when it was a trickle of refugees, mostly Fae who brought power to the Wyvernguard, sympathies ran high, everyone united against the Gardnerians and their allies, the Alfsigr Elves. But now, with that flow accelerating...the doors are slamming shut.

My own people are with the Noi Conclave in this, and I’m inclined to agree with them. Heelyn is right. The problems of the Western Realm need to stay in the Western Realm. The Amaz will bring their hatred of men. The Kelts their backward Book of the Ancients. The Urisk their class-based infighting and potentially dangerous geomancy. The Fae their revolutionary groups looking for a return to Fae supremacy over both Realms. And the Lupines...the growing Gerwulf Lupine pack bows to no one, not even the Noi Conclave. They’re aligned with the East for now, but will they be forever? And now, even Mage refugees are filtering in.

The Eastern Realm is courting chaos.

“A baby drowned last week,” Minyl tries again. She looks straight at me. “Vothe, you’re my good friend. You’ve always been a person of high integrity. Come and help me.”

“Minyl...” Dismay rises inside me to disappoint her so publicly. “I can’t help you. You know that. I’m the son of the Zhilon’ile Regent. It would be seen as a political statement—”

“Have you forgotten what the dragon that marks your uniform stands for?” Minyl challenges, her voice thick with emotion. Her gaze sweeps the room. “The Compassionate Vo? Goddess of Mercy?”

“Goddess of the Noi religion,” Heelyn says. “Not Goddess of the Kelts or the Urisk.”

“Really, Heelyn?” Minyl counters. “Where exactly is it written in the Teachings of the Blessed Vo that compassion is solely for the Noi?”

“There won’t be any Teachings of the Blessed Vo, or a Noilaan for that matter, if we let the West overrun the East!” Heelyn cries out.

“I volunteer.”

Trystan Gardner’s voice rings out like a hammer strike to the room.

Minyl’s entire expression tightens, almost a flinch, and I can feel the apprentices and soldiers inwardly retreating from her. Heelyn sneers at Trystan, then turns to Min Lo with an unkind smile, as if to say, See? Point proven.

“I don’t need your help,” Min Lo tells Trystan as she glares at him, but as she holds his unflinching stare, I sense conflict igniting in her.

“I’ve just cleared flight training,” Trystan says, seeming unfazed by the collective dislike in the room, and it’s hard to not be impressed by his unflappable poise in this moment. “I want to help.”

“None of us need your help, Crow,” Heelyn growls, and I shoot her a look of censure.