CHAPTER EIGHTY FOUR
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Amendiel sits at the head of the stone table, his fingers tapping against the surface as Ignavar spreads maps before him.
"Since you've been away for some time, I'm sure you don't know that our uncle has been busy."
Amendiel's hand stops moving. His golden eyes narrow at the familiar bitterness in Ignavar's tone.
"Busy how?"
"He's gathering supporters in the North. Making promises to the smaller clans. They're listening to him."
Heat flares in Amendiel's chest. His jaw clenches as old memories surface - the day his father died, their elder uncle's face twisted with greed as he demanded the throne.
Ignavar's father, who was also Amendiel's last uncle, had crushed that rebellion, sending their elder uncle fleeing north with his tail between his legs to rule some pathetic clan in the frozen wasteland. But Amendiel knows the man never stopped wanting what wasn't his, never stopped watching the Shadowscale Kingdom with hungry eyes.
"How many?"
