The War Room had gone so still that Reyna could hear the quiet crackle of frost forming along the edges of the windowpanes. Her question still hung unanswered like breath on midwinter air.

Why should Frostcall fight for you?

Roth didn’t answer immediately. His gaze stayed on Reyna, as if he’d expected her challenge the moment she stepped through the doors.

The Warmasters were less composed. One shifted his weight. Another muttered under his breath. A scribe cautiously resumed breathing. Even Bandos’s brows lowered by a fraction, a warning crease forming above the bridge of his nose.

Roth finally spoke.

“For the reason that if Suncrest falls,” he said quietly, “Aupheadia will not survive what takes its place.”

Reyna watched him, noting the tightening of his cloak around his shoulders, the small tremor of cold he tried to hide. His breath didn’t fog the air the way Frostcall wolves’ did; his body was still adjusting to the bitter temperature.

“And this concerns us how?” Warmaster Rask growled. His white beard bristled like snow-thick pine. “Suncrest has always played with fire. Let them burn.”

Roth’s jaw shifted in annoyance, not anger. “If you let Suncrest collapse, the southern packs won’t stop at Greenpeak’s borders. Their leaders are opportunists. Decker’s losing grip is an invitation.”

“Then Suncrest should hold its own,” Rask shot back.

“They can’t,” Roth replied.

The certainty in his tone pulled every gaze toward him.

Reyna stepped closer to the table. “Explain.”

Roth’s mismatched eyes drifted to her. “Decker’s losing his authority, and Ember wolves.”

At the word Ember, two Warmasters stiffened. Ember wolves were Suncrest’s political backbone. Without them, Suncrest was a furnace without flame.

Reyna crossed her arms. “What’s the proof?”

“Tribute has stopped from five Parks. That alone signals weakness. But there’s more.” His hand hovered over the handmade symbols on the table, shifting one of the wolf tokens slightly. “Ember lines are thinning. Some have vanished entirely. Others have abandoned their Alpha and fled to the faction challenging Decker’s rule.”

Bandos’s voice was low. “And who leads that faction?”

Roth held his gaze for a heartbeat before answering. “His eldest son.”

Reyna inhaled sharply.

Decker’s son challenging him meant chaos within the Crowned House of Suncrest. That was already a civil collapse waiting to ignite.

“And the Berserkers?” Reyna asked. “You said earlier they were being used as support.”

“They were, until some of them began accepting coin to attack Decker’s supporters. Others were paid to escort wolves out of Suncrest entirely,” Roth said.

Reyna’s jaw tightened. “Including you?”

For the first time, Roth’s façade fell apart. A brief pause that confirmed everything she’d suspected.

“Yes,” he said.

A ripple of surprise passed through the Frostcall Warmasters.

Reyna’s brows lowered. “We expected you to attend the Winter Solstice with full escort. Yet you skulked in with Berserkers instead. You have a First Fleet escort for a reason. Why not bring them?”

A Crowned Alpha crossing into Frostcall without escort bordered on an act of provocation. Reyna suspected he knew exactly how dangerous it looked.

“Kael of Suncrest controls three Fleets along my route,” Roth said. “Each one comprises wolves who would rather kill a Maynord than risk him rising.”

“So you snuck into Egranox,” Reyna said.

“I chose discretion over spectacle.”

“You chose Frostcall,” she corrected.

Roth held her gaze. “Because it’s the only territory that can anchor the rest. Without the North, every other alliance is weak.”

“And you want Frostcall to side with you,” Reyna said.

Roth didn’t deny it. “I want Frostcall to prioritize the stability of Aupheadia.”

Reyna rested both palms on the carved mountain ridge of Frostcall’s miniature terrain. “Then you’ll need to justify more than that stability talk. Frostcall has its own battles to consider.”

Rask growled his agreement. “And we don’t bleed for southern politics.”

“No,” Roth said. “You bleed for Aupheadia. Or you bleed alone.”

Bandos silenced the reaction with a raised hand. “Silence.” His voice carried the quiet power of a wolf who rarely needed to raise it. “Let the Alpha Maynord speak.”

Roth inclined his head. “Decker’s son wants the throne. Decker is losing support. Ember wolves are disappearing. Berserkers are selling their strength to whoever pays most. And with the kingdom destabilizing, every territory becomes vulnerable.”

Roth’s eyes trained on her again. “Your Crowned House was wiped out centuries ago. You rely on Bandos’s strength. But your enemies remember your history. A territory without a Crown is politically weak.”

Reyna’s fingers curled against the wood, cold rising under her skin. She hated how true that was. Frostcall was respected because Bandos Moltenroar commanded fear. But if he fell, if she fell, there was no Crowned lineage to hold their territory together.

Bandos stepped forward. “Speak plainly, Maynord. What do you want from us?”

Roth exhaled once, the breath visible in the cold. “An alliance to deter Decker’s supporters long enough for Suncrest to either stabilize or fall, without taking the rest of us with it.”

Bandos looked to Reyna. “Prime. What is your assessment?”

Her father rarely asked her opinion in front of outsiders. The fact that he did now made every eye in the room swivel toward her.

Reyna straightened. “Frostcall does not bend to fear. But we also don’t ignore a fire sweeping toward our borders.” She turned her gaze back to Roth. “You want an alliance, and I want transparency.”

Roth lifted a brow. “Transparency?”

Reyna smirked. “You told us what Decker is losing. Now tell us what you stand to gain.”

Every Warmaster focused on Roth with keen interest.

Roth didn’t look away from her. “If Suncrest falls, the two remaining Crowned Houses will be expected to compete for the Alpha of Alphas. That is the natural order.”

“And you want that crown,” she said.

He smiled. “I want a kingdom that doesn’t collapse under old wars. If leading it is the cost of stability, then yes. I intend to contend.”

Bandos nodded slowly. “We will discuss alliance terms after we gather more intelligence.”

Roth accepted that with a single incline of his head.

The meeting should have ended there. But Roth’s eyes found Reyna again.

“Prime,” he said, “walk with me.”

A murmur shuddered through the room. It was more surprise than hostility.

Bandos’s jaw tightened in silent hesitation. But he didn’t stop her.

Reyna stepped back from the table. “Very well.”

She followed Roth toward the doors. Every Warmaster watched them leave, and the Fangs outside straightened as she passed.