“You can’t buy into that bullcrap about it being to the will of the gods.”
Brahm straightens, and I can practically see his heart turning to stone. His jaw locks down, and his eyes grow cold and distant.
“Damien, I’m done talking about it. It works. The people in this kingdom who have any sense at all have already paid their blood tax and are living the lives of peace they deserve. If Bolvet weren’t so damn pigheaded, they would have recognized our new government and done what they were told, and they wouldn’t be suffering now. Stop thinking like a commoner. Leaders have to make sacrifices.”
“Leaders make sacrifices. They don’t force others to sacrifice for them.”
His eyes become empty pits. “You judge me for what’s happening to Bolvet and what has happened to a few other villages, but these are the exceptions. Visit Raketon to the north. They made their sacrifice early on and are reaping the benefits. A few shade children may toil in the fields, but the rest of the population enjoys the fruits of their labor. We start them early. It’s the only life they know. I doubt you could find one who would voice any desire for a different life.”
I think about the people we saw working the fields. “The ones I saw looked drugged out of their minds. I’m not sure they could speak at all.”
Brahm shrugs. “It’s an herb the master puts in their stew. Keeps them calm.”
“Then they are drugged.”
“Look at what we’ve gained! Fields overflowing. The largest herd of stags to ever run in our woods.”
I grit my teeth. “Tell me this, Brahm. Do any of the elf villages sacrifice children to work in Stygarde’s fields?”
“No. We service our own.”
“But they partake in our yields, don’t they? If the food isn’t going to the west villages, it must be going somewhere.”
He nods. “It goes to Willowgulch as an act of diplomacy.”
“Does Stygarde provide children to work Willowgulch land?”
“Only a few.”
“Because Willowgulch has little farmable land.” I shake my head. “This was no accord. It was a slaughter.”
He shoves my shoulder in a move that’s part playful and part itching for a fight. But I know better than to fight the king. “Father often said that no king could make everyone in his kingdom happy. I’ve done my best to create a Stygarde he would approve of, one that has orchestrated an enduring peace with our one-time enemies. Some of the concessions I’ve had to make are less palatable than others, but in the grand scheme of things, they’ve saved lives.”
And taken other lives. I can’t continue this conversation. My instinct is to knock some sense into him, punish him for failing our family and the kingdom, but if I do that, there will be consequences I’m unwilling to pay. “I see now that I’ve underestimated the complexity of this arrangement,” I grit out.
Brahm grins. “Imagine that. My big brother underestimating something or someone. I never thought I’d see the day you’d admit it.”
We’re no longer speaking about the kingdom. He’s talking about himself. Maybe I have underestimated him. I realize now he’s capable of much worse than I’d previously given him credit for.
Which means I’d be stupid to keep pressing him about this. I raise my finger to my lips and point at a red stag in the distance.
“One more thing, Damien,” he says softly but without a hint of humor, his eyes fixated on the stag. “If you or that vampire mate of yours pull anything again like you did yesterday, I will have you both executed for treason.”
He shifts into shadow and attacks.
18
Spilled Tea
ELOISE
Nothing good can come of this. I am to meet with Nevina, Odette, Tempest, and Eudora one more time to finalize the details of the Harvest Festival. They’d been working on this for weeks before I arrived and hardly needed my input when last we met, although I was more than happy to help guide Nevina toward supporting the holiday. The ladies of New Stygarde have been attending harvest festivals since their childhoods. No detail has gone unexamined, I’m sure. Which makes me wonder what Nevina really wants from me today, especially considering the tension between us last night.
Last time, I was able to sway her to host the festival by stroking her ego, telling her that the festival will make her come off like the benevolent regent she is. So far, she’s gone along. At the end of the week, thousands of shades from all over Stygarde will make the pilgrimage to the castle for feasting, dancing, and worshipping the goddess Thanesia. The villages of the west will enjoy a much-needed meal. And although it isn’t a permanent solution to their suffering, it will go a long way toward bolstering their spirits.
So, when Roslyn comes to my door to lead me to Her Majesty’s meeting, I’m braced for anything. I’m also insanely uncomfortable. I forced myself back into one of Nevina’s loaner dresses, this one a hideous shade of powder blue that is completely wrong for my coloring and strains against my curves, in order not to offend her with my shade-crafted dress. After last night, I don’t want to piss her off any more than I already have.
As reluctant as I am to admit it, I didn’t realize how dangerous Nevina was until last night. I thought she answered to Brahm. But what I saw at the dining room table was a king who was at the mercy of his queen, maybe even a little afraid of her. I almost wish I didn’t recognize the signs: the way Brahm’s face betrayed his empathy for Bolvet, while Nevina’s face betrayed her delight at their suffering. Brahm glanced away when confronted with the issue, his jaw twitching as he ground his teeth. While the king backed Nevina up, my intuition tells me it was only because he had to. Brahm might be king, but he’s not the one calling the shots.
