Shifting, Rowen straightens himself in his seat, tugging his tailored jacket open. Reaching, he withdraws a letter, one that’s been opened.
“Because he knows of this,” Rowen answers, propping the letter between two fingers. “He learned the council seeks to remove the Grayflame family from power for my contract. He offered to tilt things in my favor, promising I’d remain Sovereign King should I sign.”
Vaelyn could do that.
He has that kind of power now.
It’s a power Netharis wielded like a finely tuned instrument. Careful and calculating with every stroke. I doubt Vaelyn will be as adept a player.
A small silence fills the room as Rowen slides the letter across the table towardme. A gold wax seal lies broken across the seam. It features eight crowns in a ring, in its center a ninth, larger than the rest. Undoubtedly, it’s the seal of the High Council.
“Rather than broker a deal with the god of death for a second time,” Rowen says, his lips tilting upward in theslightestgrin, “I thought I would try my hand at finding a resolution myself.”
“Which involves looking for me?” I scoff, taking the letter.
“Yes,” Rowen replies. “You’ve done the impossible and I’m hoping you can help me do the same.”
As I unfold the letter, Rowen continues.
“I understand there are repercussions for my decisions, but what the High Council is seeking…” he trails off as I read.
My blood runs cold upon reading a single word.
Execution.
Upon reading the next sentence, my wide eyes race to Rowen’s.
“Tanila too?” I ask, bewildered.
Is the council threatened by Rowen’s daughter? Why would they seek her death as well?
Rowen nods slowly.
“The council seeks to strike the Grayflame family from record,” Rowen says in quiet anger. “I cannot let that happen.”
Folding the letter, I heave a sigh as I push it across the table. He doesn’t pick it up. He doesn’t even look at it. Instead, he keeps his eyes fixed upon mine.
“That’s a rather mild way of putting it,” I say, my tone grim. I turn to Ryc. “Why would the council want this? Why include Tanila?”
“Ganus and Eloric are spearheading the charges,” Ryc answers. “There’s been tension between the borders of Renna, Vis, and Battalia for the last few decades.”
I purse my lips. Annoyed.
Fae politics were supposed to be a problem for future Ves.
Years down the line—for Sovereign Queen Ves. For Ves when she found a way to regain her innate.
Not now.
Not thissoon.
As I stare at Rowen, my annoyance grows. He’s a hurled stone in a house of glass wrapped in a ribbon carrying the stench of the hells.
“Ganus and Eloric’s… displeasure with my leadership of the council has grown in the last few centuries,” Rowen says with a tight-lipped frown. “This discovery has emboldened them and their political aspirations. Due to the nature of the charges, my nomination for succession is nullified. The decision will default to the council.”
Thecouncilwill choose who rules Vis?
“Has this happened before?” I ask, beyond curious. “Have other royal families ended this way?”
