THE COURT
Lady Meredyth Rosby was the first to say it aloud.
"Perhaps the queen's... friendship... should be formalized or ended."
The words carried across the small council antechamber, where minor nobles waited for audiences. Conversations paused. Heads turned.
Alicent stood near the window, reviewing petitions. Her hand didn't stop moving across the parchment.
"Lady Meredyth. You have opinions about my daughter's arrangements?"
"Only concerns, Your Grace." The woman was bold, Ulf had to admit. Few would challenge the Queen Mother directly. "The queen spends nights away from the royal apartments. The servants talk. The lords notice. It reflects... poorly."
"On whom?"
"On the crown, Your Grace. On the sanctity of marriage. On—"
"On Aegon?" Alicent finally looked up. "My son, who maintains three mistresses in Flea Bottom? Who hasn't visited his wife's chambers in months? Who was found last week in a brothel wearing nothing but his crown?"
Lady Meredyth's mouth opened. Closed.
"My daughter's friendship with her sworn protector is the least of this court's scandals." Alicent returned to her petitions. "You may go."
The dismissal was absolute.
Ulf watched from his corner—the queen's representative, invisible until needed.
She's protecting us. Or protecting Helaena. Either way, we have time.
But time was running out. Every whispered conversation. Every pointed glance. The court knew, and the court judged, and eventually the court would demand resolution.
ULF
The raven arrived at midnight.
I was in my quarters, Helaena asleep in my bed, when the knock came. A page with a sealed scroll.
"From the Riverlands, m'lord. Urgent."
I read by candlelight. The words burned themselves into my memory.
Daemon burns Stone Hedge. Twenty dead. Before the flames took them, he was heard asking: "Where is the bastard who killed my assassins? Where is the White?"
He seeks the Dragonslayer. He remembers Blood and Cheese.
The candle guttered. Helaena stirred.
"What is it?"
"Daemon." I set down the scroll. "He's hunting me."
She sat up. Silver hair cascading around her shoulders, sleep-soft and vulnerable.
"Because of the assassins?"
"Because I stopped his revenge. Because I killed people he paid to kill your children." I looked at her. "He's burning castles looking for me."
"Then don't go to him."
"He'll come to me eventually. That's how Daemon works—he doesn't stop. Doesn't forget."
She was silent for a long moment.
"Can you beat him?"
Honest answer: I don't know. Caraxes is older than Silverwing, battle-tested, ridden by the most dangerous warrior alive. My Rokushiki is strong but incomplete. My dragon bond is new.
"I can try."
"That's not good enough."
"It's what I have."
She crawled across the bed. Took my face in her hands.
"Then get better. Train harder. Find whatever edge you need." Her voice fierce. "You don't get to die, Ulf. Not by his hand. Not by anyone's."
"I'll do my best."
"Do more than that."
THE TRAINING YARD - 3 AM
Moonlight painted the stone silver.
I moved through Rokushiki forms with desperate intensity. Soru bursts across the yard. Tekkai holds until my muscles screamed. Rankyaku kicks that split the air.
But the combination eluded me.
Rokuogan. The ultimate technique. All six forms unified into a single devastating attack.
I'd read about it in my borrowed memories. Knew it was possible. Knew it required perfect synchronization of every technique I'd learned.
But every time I tried—
Soru for speed. Tekkai for defense. Rankyaku for range. Geppo for mobility. Shigan for piercing. Kami-e for evasion.
They slipped apart. Like trying to hold water. Like trying to catch smoke.
I collapsed against the wall. Breathing hard. Frustrated.
Silverwing's shadow passed overhead. She'd been watching from her perch on the Dragonpit's rim.
She landed. Lumbered over. Pressed her snout against my chest.
A rumble. Patient. Understanding.
Patience, rider. It will come.
"I don't have time for patience," I told her. "Daemon is hunting us."
Another rumble. Unimpressed.
Dragons have faced worse. So have you.
"Have I?"
She pulled back. Looked at me with those ancient eyes.
You walked through my fire. You stood when others burned. You'll find a way.
Maybe she was right. Maybe the combination would come when I needed it, not when I forced it.
Or maybe I'd die trying.
I stood. Stretched. Prepared for another round.
One more hour. Then sleep. Then do it again tomorrow.
The war wouldn't wait. Neither would Daemon.
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