Winterveil by Jenna Burtenshaw

one of the seated men.
    â€œBecause the leaders of the Continent are preparing to move against us. Rumors have spread that Fume is weak. There is talk of sickness within its walls, and people are beginning to distrust your rule. The Continental leaders see this as the perfect time to attack. If you do not act, you will lose this city. The war will be over. They will have won.”
    â€œThat will never happen. Fume is ours. We will defend it!”
    â€œThen you must prepare. Now.”
    A third councilman, his confidence bolstered by the presence of the wardens in the room, stood up. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” he said.
    â€œIt is the truth.”
    â€œI see no armies on the horizon. There has been no word of attacks upon our southernmost towns for days.”
    â€œNo competent leader would waste time on smaller towns when our capital is weak,” said Silas.
    The third councilman raised a thin smile. “Then we are perfectly safe,” he said. “Our enemies have already proven that they are far from competent.”
    More nervous smiles spread around the room, fueled by the arrogance of fools.
    â€œEvery battle against the Continent has been hard won,” said Silas. “Their leaders will not waste this chance to strike at the heart of our lands. The wardens on the walls are disorganized and unobservant. They are not used to being challenged. When the armies come, we will need to provide greater resistance than we have raised so far. I will hunt down Dalliah Grey, but I cannot protect this city on two fronts. I need men and women who are willing to fight, and I need them to be ready. I am here because my duty is always to Albion. As is yours.”
    The outspoken councilman folded his arms and shook his head, raising his eyebrows in mock concern. “This is all very interesting,” he said. “Unfortunately, your ‘duty’ extends to one action alone. You are a traitor, a murderer, and a criminal. You have no right to stand in this room and address this council as an equal. You are an insect, worthy of nothing more than being crushed under my heel.”
    The room waited silently for Silas to react. He unbuckled his scabbard from his belt and passed it, sword and all, to Edgar, who held it carefully and backed away.
    â€œThen you surrender yourself ?” The councilman’s mouth twitched with victory, and he signaled for the wardens to close in. No one moved. “Take him!”
    One warden stepped forward, sliding a silver dagger slowly from its sheath. No matter who had given the order, Edgar could not believe anyone would be foolish enough to act upon it. But instead of approaching Silas, the warden walked up to Edgar and passed him his weapon before standing to attention at his side.
    â€œWhat is going on here?” The councilman’s smile twisted into rage.
    Two more wardens joined the first. Then five more, all placing their daggers on the ground at Edgar’s feet.
    â€œYou have already lost control,” said Silas. “You have lost the respect of those who serve you. You have lived in decadence for too long while your own people suffer to keep you in power. You have allowed yourselves to neglect what should have been most important to you. Without the trust of the people, a government is powerless. The greatest threat to our country is inside this very room.”
    â€œI think we can all recognize the greatest threat in this room, and I’m looking straight at him.”
    â€œNo,” said Silas. “I am.”
    Everyone followed Silas’s eyes and stared at a councilman who had been content to sit quietly at the table and let others do the talking. He was middle-aged, with a neatly trimmed beard and a face that looked open and trustworthy. He was sitting back in his chair, casually making notes on a piece of paper.
    â€œGorrett?” said the councilman sitting directly beside him. The entire