And it worked just as I’d hoped. Talking stopped when I came in.
The room was set up like an ancient stadium. In the center there was a massive round table for the head of each court, surrounded by riser seating, all carved out of stone. Each court had its own section, so the effect was similar to a sporting event because so many in the audience wore their faction’s official colors.
But there weren’t tons of onlookers—and the few who were present were comfortably spread out. I glanced over at the Court of Sirena, which was already occupied by members of the court, most of whom I hadn’t even met yet but had shown up for me. There were also rows of guards who walked in before me, standing. Once the rest marched in, the entire section would be full.
I smiled at the thought.
As I stepped inside and began my procession down the aisle to the center, there were some barely concealed scowls and dirty looks shot my way. There was also plenty of the opposite—smiles and head nods encouraging me on. I did get a sense that if I was going to take the throne as planned, I was going to have to win some naysayers over. Otherwise, there would be a lot of resistance, particularly from the Court of Sigbin. None of them appeared friendly—it was all smirks and glares from that set. Amador regarded me coolly. I was surprised to find Lucas was not with her.
Once the heads of court were seated and the Court of Sirena guards took their places, a leader—I wasn’t sure of her name or title or even which court she belonged to—banged a large, old-fashioned gavel and declared that the 846th Biannual Biringan Meeting of the Councils had begun.
“Baroness Tanginaw of the Court of Sigbin?” the council leader called out.
“Here,” came the reply. The baroness wore a Maria Clara dress and a jeweled comb made of mother-of-pearl.
“Sir Dorado of the Court of Tikbalang?” the council leader called next. Another answer in the affirmative, from a knight wearing a tribal mask over his face.
“Duchess Siria Prado, Court of Lambana?” A woman in a simple camisa, with a matching pañuelo over her shoulders, nodded.
I was glad for the roll because I learned who was who. I made it a point to repeat each name in my head so I’d remember if I needed to address them. A few of them stood out easily, though: The one in the datu outfit was Joaquin Valeria, a representative of the Court of Tikbalang. The couple clad in contrasting white and black were from the Court of Lambana—Lord and Lady Camangayan.
“First call to order,” the Biringan master of ceremonies announced. She didn’t even need a microphone or anything—her voice carried clearly through the entire room. “For the establishment of unrestricted travel ways in the common areas of Biringan. Initial call. Those in favor, say aye.”
A series of ayes popped up across the room. I looked at Elias. He nodded slightly. I joined the chorus with one aye.
“All those opposed?”
One squeaky nay rose from somewhere around the table. It looked like it came from an empty chair, but then I saw that the little voice was actually coming from the creature standing on the table.
“Bibao Court opposes,” the master of ceremonies announced for the record. I hadn’t even heard a Bibao Court in the introductions.
“Why?” I whispered to Elias.
“They oppose every motion, unless all others oppose, in which case they vote in favor.”
“Why?”
“They’re an opposition court. Technically they aren’t even recognized.” Bibaos were ordinary spirits, household sprites.
I didn’t have time to get more clarity on that. We were on to the next thing. The master of ceremonies made another announcement: “Open house session. Any court that wishes to raise an issue, your concern can now be heard. One councilor from your court should stand and wait to be called upon.”
Around the table, a few began to rise. The MC—of course they didn’t call her that, but I couldn’t help it—took her time looking them over before raising her finger and pointing to one. “The gentleman from the Court of Tikbalang may have the floor,” she announced. The others sat, a couple groaning that they’d have to wait a while longer.
The datu cleared his throat. He had to be nearly seven feet tall, and though he was lean, he exuded physical strength. “Tikbalang challenges the succession of the princess of the Court of Sirena.”
Loud voices broke out around the room. Some clapping. People began shouting their own opinions at the speaker, as if that was going to contribute anything. As for me, I sat there, stunned. He was talking about me. And judging by the response, quite a few agreed with him. “The king should have passed the line of succession to someone worthy when he had the chance,” someone yelled.
Maybe they wereallinsurgents? Was this a trap?
A woman with short white hair and a silver terno, also from Tikbalang, stood up. “The Court of Sirena has monopolized the throne for far too long.”
And then a member of the Court of Lambana, a winged man wearing an embroidered robe, responded, “We all know the agreement, and it has worked thus far.”
“But she is a stranger to our land! And a hapcanto!”
“What is going on?” I asked Elias. “Is this a coup?”
Elias stood abruptly without acknowledging what I said. “The Court of Sirena objects to this disrespectful statement!” he declared. “The line of succession is not up for debate!”
