The Dracarae woman’s wish had come true-her darling brother was calling a war, a coup. Goodbye to Nightingale! She was done with the peace, the days of war in Irina’s time had been much better, and Estelle’s soul longed for them. She was off like a shot, cackling at the thought of death.
She arrived just in time for his speech. “Hello, darling brother, and my lost sister too,” she told Dreamfyre and Balerion, before settling in to listen.
“I am Balerion, first born of the Dracarae to Starfall. I am the Beast of the North, the Black Dread. Born of darkness, and the inflictor of fear and blood. It was I who set the field ablaze for all to burn and rot in Phobus's War, and I who slew the daughter of the Vampire Queen. Should the Dane King not have practically handed his child as a key to the Vampire Queen, I would have brought Tarben to victory.
“Brothers, sisters, daughters and sons, friends and allies. We will have a new home where we fit in. We will take Drekistone, our birthright. We will strike down whatever halfwitted royal sits their asses on the throne and whoever dares to follow them. For they were stupid enough to steal what isn’t theirs. There will be no deals, there will be no surrenders or mercy.” She liked this, and saw him glance to the wolf who was undoubtedly the youngest there. “Seraphina, while it raises me no question who your father is or if you would make a strong fighter, I cannot willingly put a child into war. You will be more than welcome to follow us once we take Drekistone, but I cannot in good conscience let Wendigo’s child die.” At this Estelle’s throat forcefully closed around a scoff. “We will train for three weeks, and strike on the last day’s dusk,” Balerion concluded his tirade. Estelle, excited, grinned as she imagined how this war would go.

“Bitch I run this show!”