Not all enemies come from outside.
Some walk beside you, wearing the same cloak, speaking the same oaths.
Selene knew this.
She just didn't know who the first traitor would be.
In the frost-lit war chambers of the Valeburne estate, she stood before a circle of commanders. Her crimson eyes swept over them—beastkin emissaries with silver tattoos, mercenary captains with old war scars, noble defectors draped in new banners.
They all smiled.
But smiles meant nothing now.
Her gaze locked briefly onto Lord Corvin, her uncle, who had reappeared in the rebellion's inner circle after weeks of silence. His words were loyal. His posture perfect. Yet Selene's skin prickled every time he spoke.
"I've arranged talks with the northern clans," he said smoothly, tracing his finger over the map. "They're hesitant but open."
Selene nodded, but said nothing. Her heart whispered warnings, threads of instinct pulling taut beneath her ribs.
She would let him speak.
Let him plot.
Because sometimes the easiest way to catch a traitor was to give them rope.
That night, Lira visited Selene's chambers with a stack of sealed letters.
Her cousin's face was pale beneath the candlelight, exhaustion carved into the corners of her eyes.
"We've confirmed it," Lira whispered. "Corvin sent missives to the Eastern Council. Secretly."
Selene's pulse didn't falter.
"How many?"
"Three so far."
Selene's hands rested flat on the desk.
"What do they say?"
Lira swallowed hard. "He's offering them our supply routes. In exchange for full pardon after the rebellion falls."
Selene closed her eyes for a single, quiet moment.
When she opened them, the storm was gone from her face.
Only cold clarity remained.
"Good," she whispered.
Lira blinked. "Good?"
Selene's lips barely curved.
"Let him think he's winning."
Meanwhile, Lucien faced his own fracture.
In the southern command post, one of his mercenary lieutenants—a man named Serek—slipped a false report into the communication line.
Lucien read it twice before realizing.
The report claimed the Ash Serpent riders had betrayed the rebellion, taken gold from Evelyne, and planned to abandon the north.
It was a lie.
Lucien's scouts had confirmed loyalty just hours earlier.
So why plant false panic?
Because someone wanted him to pull forces from the east.
To weaken the real front lines.
Lucien set the parchment down, golden eyes narrowed.
"Alaric," he murmured.
His friend stepped forward from the shadows.
"Find Serek."
"And then?"
Lucien's gaze didn't waver.
"We won't make a martyr of him."
He would do what his father never had.
He would stop the rot quietly.
Before it spread.
Back in the Valeburne estate, Selene prepared her next move.
She stood before the frost-covered window, crimson eyes reflecting the distant moons.
Corvin thought she didn't know.
But she did.
And the game was simple now.
Let the traitors think they were winning.
Let them send their letters.
Let them whisper to Evelyne.
Because the moment they thought they had control—
That's when she'd break them.
War wasn't just fought with blades.
It was fought with patience.
With silence.
With knowing who smiled at you while holding a knife behind their back.
And Selene was done pretending she didn't see it.