Thorian’s hand trembled as he clenched the letter, crumpling the fine parchment. His mind raced with the implications of the threat. He imagined Alina, trapped in Isolde’s clutches, and his blood boiled with the need to act. But he knew rashness could cost him everything.
He entered the throne room abruptly, his angry presence shadowing the room, and called for his most trusted advisors. "Summon General Corvin and Lord Eamon immediately. We must prepare for war."
As he waited, Thorian paced the length of the room, his thoughts dark and stormy. He could not let Isolde's brazen act of aggression go unanswered, but he needed more than just force; he needed strategy, something that could outmanoeuvre the cunning queen.