I take the seat at Micah’s right-hand side and turn my attention to Esmeray. My gaze wanders to the empty chair beside her. It’s an ornate smaller replica of hers, no doubt meant for her heir. But it’s empty. I glance around the table at her counsel. They all wear impractical and revealing clothing, makeup in the colors of tropical flowers, and black, judgmental eyes. Not seeing Kyron, a sense of calm moves over me, and I relax a bit. That is until movement in the front corner of the room catches my attention.
He leans against the wall with arms crossed and his eyes locked on me. The elegant attire he wore for his anointment have been traded for a leather jacket, black tunic, and form-fitting black pants. It’s the sameclothing he once wore as the Lucent army’s general. Except now, a golden crown rests upon his head.
“As I was saying before I was interrupted.”
My eyes dart back to Esmeray.
She runs a slender hand over her long ebony hair, her expression seeping with disapproval. “I received this letter last night from the Allaji king. He states that yesterday’s attack is a taste of what is coming. Due to our division of the land, he feels it is free for the taking. Pliris should be one kingdom, not two, and he plans on absorbing it into his own.” The queen hands the letter to a Cyffred servant who brings it to Micah.
“Why the sudden interest in our land?” asks a middle-aged woman with purple hair and a feathered orange hat.
“Rumors have it that the Allaji have depleted their resources,” my father answers from across the table. “Many of them have taken to living permanently as their animal counterparts and shown no restraint. The grasslands at their eastern borders are barren, and with few in human form to maintain the fields, their grain mills are running empty.”
“So they’re starving; we can help with that. Get them back on their feet and taking care of their own land. Problem solved,” I say.
“Not quite.” Micah shakes his head and presses his side of his knuckle to his lips. “I have it upon good authority that the Allaji king is on his deathbed. Even if we decided it was worth the effort, I’m not sure who to contact. They do not pass down their crown the way we do. Their next ruler is chosen in an archaic fashion.”
I turn to Zek. “You spent time with the Allaji while we were at the Sibyls’ temple; did you hear anything about this?”
His eyes go wide, like he didn’t anticipate being part of the discussion. He finally lifts his chin, clears his throat and says, “Most of my time with the Allaji was not spent in deep conversations, Your Grace.”
My cheeks turn pink. Zek mentioned that he enjoyed the shifters’ company because expectations were low and desires were high. They live very uninhibited lives according to the explicit details he shared. It seemed that was one of his favorite reasons to be in their company.
“However,” Zek says, “I do know that most of them were at the temple to learn about the competition known as the Sovereign’s Rite. They were studying past tournaments, hoping to get an edge on their opponents. Many of the competitors battle to the death, but combat isn’t the only focus.The next ruler must complete a task that benefits the entire kingdom. In the end, the Allaji people choose their ruler, so the competitors must make a lasting impression.”
“Nothing says I’m the strongest, most knowledgeable person for the crown like seizing the prosperous land of another kingdom,” Kyron says from his corner. “It’s the perfect motive for what’s happening. This competitor could be popular among their people and rallied others to join them. If that’s the case, they intend to follow this through for the crown. No diplomatic means will stop them. This is war.”
Why must everything lead to endless battles? Our people haven’t rested in thirty years, and Kyron is so willing to jump into another conflict. I won’t sit silent on the matter. There must be a better way.
I meet his gaze across the room and will my voice to be just as strong as his when I say, “So you suggest we throw diplomacy out the window, Your Grace? Clearly, they’re in need and someone is trying to prove a point. We could work with this competitor to obtain their crown and give them what they need without bloodshed.”
Kyron steps forward and moves to flank his mother’s chair. He props his wounded arm on the high back with ease, and I’m surprised to see it has already healed. “Blood has already been shed. The shifters killed over three dozen Stigians yesterday. They’re not looking to negotiate with us.”
“Three dozen,” I whisper. The attack was brutal, and Zek said it was quite the fight to regain control. But to hear that they killed so many, it makes me ill.
“Thirty-seven to be exact,” Kyron confirms. “While you were tossing and turning, worrying about those who might be dead, I ventured out to gather their bodies. I scraped their innards from the ground and returned to their families what I could find of them. Pardon me if I don’t believe the Allaji are civilized enough to talk things through.”
I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes. “Perhaps if the Stigians didn’t flaunt the wealth they possess due to the Cyffreds they hold captive, the Allaji wouldn’t have felt compelled to attack such a lucrative kingdom!”
Kyron clamps his mouth shut and grips the back of his mother’s chair until his knuckles turn white.
My comeback is a cheap shot considering the topic. It doesn’t matter what brought the Allaji here, the lives they destroyed and future damage they can inflict are what’s important. But sitting at this table with the Stigianleaders, I can’t help but to remember the hurt they have caused so many. They may not kill Cyffreds in the street, but they rip away their lives all the same.
My father clears his throat, lowers his gaze, and tilts his head down. It’s the same gesture he does when my siblings and I are getting out of hand and wearing on our mother’s last nerve. Except this time, there’s an approving glint in his eyes.
“Kyron is right. If the Allaji wanted our help, they would have sought a peaceful means. This is war,” Micah says, folding the letter and handing it back to the servant.
The prince slides into the seat next to his mother and leans back in his chair. I’ve seen this before at the General’s Summit in Lucent. Military strategy is what he excels in and a topic he knows he can command. “We need to put forth a united front if this is going to work. They need to believe they’re going against a strong unified army. Just invoking the slightest doubt in them could be the advantage we need to prevail.”
“Sounds easy. Perhaps cats and mice will find common ground over cheese,” I mumble.
“You better hope they do, princess, because both of our kingdoms are relying on it.”
I glare at him as he leans back in the obnoxious gilded chair with the ankle of one leg resting on the thigh of the other. His finger plays with his lip, and a stupid strand of hair brushes his brow, held in place by his fucking crown. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my racing heart to slow as a fresh wave of frustration builds inside me.
I roll my wrist with a flourish, mimicking the snobbery of the counsel. “You’re the one with experience as a general. Please enlighten us with one of your strategies. I’m sure it will be just as ingenious as the last one you helped the Lucent army execute.”
One side of Kyron’s lips quirk up, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Lucky for you, things have a way of working out exactly the way I want.”
