The war room was no place for a merchant's daughter.
That was the first thought Marin had every time she stepped into it. The chamber was a fortress within a fortress, all stone, banners, and iron-banded shelves stacked with maps and spy reports. The massive oak table at its heart looked older than the castle itself, gouged and scarred from generations of commanders slamming daggers into their plans. It smelled of ink, steel oil, and Kael's faint, icy aura.
And yet, here she was again, at his side, trying not to look like she had absolutely no business standing among generals.
Just breathe, she told herself. Think of it as a marketplace. They bargain with troops; you bargained with spices. Same thing, just… sharper teeth.
Kael gestured to a set of markers. "Stonepaw warriors will reinforce the ridge here. That frees the eastern flank for—"
Marin leaned in, bracing her hands on the table's carved edge to get a better look at the red lines. The oak shifted beneath her fingers with a quiet click. A groan of gears followed, and then a hidden compartment slid open at her elbow.
The room froze.
"…Oh no," Marin whispered. "I swear I was only leaning."
Kael's head snapped to her, then to the drawer that had yawned open like a guilty mouth. He reached inside and drew out a stack of sealed documents bound with black cord, along with a small iron emblem etched with a serpent coiled around a sword.
The emblem rang sharply on the table.
"The Serpent Order," Ren, the spymaster, said flatly. His ink-stained fingers twitched toward the papers.
Murmurs rippled like wildfire through the nobles. Lord Darrick actually dropped his quill into his goblet. "Impossible! How could those be here?"
"By betrayal," Kael said, cold as a winter wind. He scanned the top sheet, jaw hardening. "Enemy infiltration plans. Supply depots, guard rotations, couriers inside the city…"
Marin's stomach dipped. If I hadn't leaned…
The nobles broke into shouts, panic sharpening into blame. "Who smuggled them?" "Who failed security?" "Search her sleeves—"
Kael's hand came down lightly at the small of her back, steady as stone. "No one touches Lady Draven."
Heat climbed Marin's face at the unexpected shield. But she made herself stand taller, her merchant instincts taking over. "Gentlemen," she said clearly, "we can argue about who failed, or we can consider what this gives us." She reached for one parchment, heart racing. "These plans were meant to harm us. Now they're ours. Information is worth more than gold—any trader knows that."
The silence that followed was startled, begrudging. Even Kael's lips twitched.
"She's right," he said, his voice cutting through the chamber. "This is not defeat. It's opportunity."
They bent over the documents. Marin traced one courier route with her fingertip. "This looks crooked. It's hiding the real path."
Kael leaned close, his shoulder brushing hers. "Where?"
"Here," she whispered, showing him. "Lantern Lane. It's the only spot a runner can change disguises twice without being seen. If you want to catch a serpent, wait where it sheds its skin."
His gaze lingered on her longer than it needed to. "Good," he murmured.
The officers began to argue over details, but Kael included her in every question, every adjustment. The two of them worked the table like a duet: his precision, her merchant intuition. Each time she spoke, he gave her space to finish. Each time he issued an order, his eyes flicked back to her, as if measuring her approval.
She tried not to think about how close he stood, how the frost of his aura brushed her skin, how his voice lowered when he spoke just to her. Focus, Marin. Allies, not… this.
When the orders were finally dispatched, the war room door swung open, and runners carried Kael's instructions down into the barracks. Marin followed Kael out into the corridor, expecting glares or mutters at her interference. Instead, soldiers whispered as she passed.
"Did you hear? She found the Serpents' plans by accident.""Not accident. Luck.""Lady Luck, they're calling her already."
The murmurs trailed like a tide, growing louder as word spread through the ranks. By the time they reached the courtyard, a pair of young squires actually straightened and saluted her. One stammered, "We're glad you're on our side, my lady."
Marin's cheeks burned. Oh no. Not a title. Not a nickname. This will never end well.
Beside her, Kael's mouth tilted into the smallest, most dangerous smirk. "Lady Luck. Fitting."
She elbowed him lightly, trying for dignity. "Don't encourage them."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, but his voice carried that rare, husky warmth that made her pulse stumble.
Later, as they stood alone in the war room again, Kael closed the hidden compartment with a firm press. The click echoed like a vow.
Marin let out a shaky breath. "I know luck has followed me, but this… this wasn't luck."
"No," Kael said quietly. "This was you."
The weight of his gaze made her chest tight.
"I just leaned on a table," she tried to joke.
"You stood when the others faltered," he corrected, his voice soft but edged with pride. "And from now on, you'll stay at my side in council. If there are more secrets, I want you to be the one who finds them."
Her heart betrayed her with a skip. By your side.
She forced a smile. "As you wish, General."
His eyes softened. "Kael," he said. "Here, just Kael."
The name sat warm on her tongue. "Kael."
For a breath, the world shrank to the flicker of torchlight on his hair and the steady strength in his presence. Then, from the courtyard below, a soldier's cheer rang out:
"To Lady Luck!"
Marin groaned softly, burying her face in her hands. "It's spreading, isn't it?"
Kael's low chuckle was rare, but it warmed her through like fire on a cold night. "It is. And I, for one, am not going to stop it."