Kaelen's POV.
From the vantage point of the harbor master's tower, the choice was laid out. To the North, the Citadel lights flickered where Princess Lyra was held. To the South, the main rebel force was funneling into the residential Weaver's District, preparing to overrun the heart of the capital.
"The fleet is anchoring," Torin reported, his voice hollow. "If the rebels take the Weaver's District, they have a straight shot to the palace. We can't hold both, Regent."
Fenrir stood at the window, his eyes fixed on the Northern lights. "We take the elite cavalry and strike the Citadel now. We can break her out before Hecate realizes we've left the barricades."
"If we leave the barricades, the rebels slaughter ten thousand civilians in the Weaver's District," I said, looking at the narrow stone bridge connecting the district to the palace. "And then they take the throne. We'd be saving a Princess to rule over a graveyard."
"That is my sister, Linus!" Fenrir turned, his face contorted. "I will not let her die to save a few city blocks."
"It's not just blocks, Fenrir. It's the Empire," I said. "Look at the map. If we collapse the Weaver's District, if we lure the main rebel bulk into those narrow streets and drop the gate, we trap eighty percent of Hecate's ground force. We end the siege tonight."
"By burning the city?" Fenrir stepped toward me, his shadow looming. "You're talking about sacrificing thousands of our own people."
"I'm talking about winning the war," I countered. "Hecate expects you to be a hero. She expects you to run for your sister and she's waiting at the Citadel with three thousand men to butcher you. It's a trap, Fenrir. A perfect, emotional trap."
"And your plan? What do you call that?"
"Math," I said. "Cold, hard math."
Fenrir looked at me, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes.
"You've changed. The boy I brought from the border wouldn't have even thought of this."
"The boy you brought from the border is dead," I said. "The King is standing in front of you. Choose, Fenrir. The girl, or the Crown?"
Fenrir's jaw tightened. He looked at his shaking hands, then back at the Northern lights. The silence stretched until the sound of a rebel ram hitting the Weaver's Gate shook the tower.
"Do it," Fenrir whispered, his voice cracking. "Save the Empire."
I didn't give him time to regret it. I turned to Torin. "Order the evacuation of the first two streets only. Lock the remaining gates and prime the oil vats beneath the Weaver's Bridge. When the rebels reach the center, blow the supports."
"Regent... the families still inside…."
"Do it now, Torin! That's an order!"
I watched from the tower as the rebels poured into the Weaver's District. When the center was packed with crimson banners, I raised my hand and dropped it, and within an instant, the bridge collapsed.
The fire spread instantly through the timber-framed houses.
Fenrir turned away. He slumped against the wall, his head in his hands.
"It's done," I said, my voice flat. "The rebel army is broken."
"At what cost?" Fenrir asked, not looking up. "You've turned me into a monster, Kaelen. They'll call us Tyrant, Merciless, Selfish."
"Better to be called a million names than be a corpse in a ditch," I replied.
A scout burst into the room, his face pale and streaked with soot. He was trembling so violently he could barely stand.
"Report," I commanded.
"The... the Citadel, Highness," the scout stammered. "The Queen Mother... she saw the fire in the Weaver's District. She knew you weren't coming."
Fenrir stood up slowly, his eyes wide. "What happened? Where is Lyra?"
The scout looked at the floor. "She stood the Princess on the ramparts, Majesty. She said... she said if the Emperor cares more for his walls than his blood, he should see the price of his choice."
"No," Fenrir breathed.
"She executed her, Majesty. In front of the whole Northern army. The Princess... she's gone."
Fenrir lunged for the door, but his legs gave out. He collapsed onto the cold stone, sobbing, his fist slamming repeatedly into the floor.
I stood over him, looking at the horizon where the fire was still raging, consuming the rebels and the civilians alike. I had saved the throne and ended the ground siege.
But as I looked at the broken man at my feet, I realized I had finally won. And in doing so, I had lost the only person who made this life worth living.
"Fenrir," I said, reaching out a hand.
"Don't touch me," he hissed, his voice dripping with a cold, jagged hatred I had never felt through the bond. "You got what you wanted, Regent. The city is safe and the crown you so deeply desire is secure."
He looked up at me, his eyes red.
"I hope the throne is comfortable," he said. "Because it's the only thing you have left."