“Now even the Assembly says I abandoned my people. That I left my brother to rule alone while I gallivanted across Avanfell and Wynth…Inreality, I marched through blood in their name. All because I was stupid enough to believe that the beast inside me could serve a greater purpose.”
I’d thought that leaving was the only mercy I could grant my kingdom. But exile had offered me no peace, just more battles.
Maeron raised one placating finger, saying, “Be that as it may, your brother has—”
I roared, “Despite his amiable nature, my golden twin is remarkably resistant to good advice!” The conversation had barely started and I’d already lost some of the control I’d fought so hard for.
The chancellor flinched, his face paling slightly at my raised voice—a reaction I’d long grown accustomed to. You come to expect that sort of thing when you’re half-man, half-monster, both sides constantly at war while forced to share the same skin. The problem was that the monster had possessed a prince who still cared for his people.
Thinking of some of Nisien’s recent decisions back home, all I could imagine was cart after cart of gold and weapons being thrown off a cliff. Of our people being hacked apart by axes while I was stuck in Caervorn, unable to save them.
Maeron’s hands tented on the tabletop. “Given the circumstances, your brother—”
“My brother has raided our defense budget to patch up every other budget shortfall. Now, our standing army is half the size it was during our father’s reign. Meanwhile, the other kingdoms haven’t gone soft. That's why I'm back, Maeron.Someonehas to fix it!”
The rage building inside me made it impossible to remain seated. “Our system rewards softness in peacetime, not when readiness for war is required. Nisien’s soft choices have exposed our people to enemy incursions. Donottry to tell me I am wrong.”
The chancellor’s hands moved in a gentle, soothing gesture, a silent command for peace. “Your condition invites uncertainty to your kingdom, my boy.”
“My condition…” Even the words tasted poisonous. They hung heavily in the air between us for three taut breaths. “You mean the way my magic makes you all piss yourselves?”
Maeron didn’t answer. He only watched me, evaluating the threat the curse had forced me to become. The magic poised to explode from me like a geyser at any moment was still nameless. It remained a mystery even to the island’s most talented and learned mages.
They said I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t going mad.
To preserve their intellectual superiority, they simply declared me cursed. The specifics of my condition were irrelevant, and having a proper name for the thing didn’t change what it did to me.
Every day it crushed a bit more of what little humanity I had left.
And more often than not, I failed to prevent the monster from speaking hurtful truths, like I just had to Maeron. My efforts to stop it from harming those I cared about were especially unsuccessful.
Maeron’s long history with my family and his powerful magic were the reasons he’d been selected for the role of messenger. I suspected the Assembly was petrified that I would kill the next nameless representative who tried to lecture me. With how out of control I’d felt lately, they might be right.
Shadows flickered across Maeron’s lined face. Now that I was no longer fighting on the Assembly’s behalf, his gaze was cold more often than not. Had my fondness for our family connection turned to misplaced nostalgia?
This time, the chancellor didn’t flinch at my insult. He knew my inner battle well. “Your volatility makes people uneasy. It also makes them curious. Power of your kind is rare and precious given the decline in magic over the past four generations. Our interest is only natural.”
Just like their interest in the woman from the market that morning wasnatural. I’d spied a team of mage hunters leaving the fortress on my way in. Maeron’s dogs hadn’t been kitted out for a fight, but their interest in her made me uncomfortable.
The shockwave of calm she’d cast had penetrated my armor of scars to still the beast in its tracks. Nothing had made it pause like that—nothing.
The wielder had been a striking woman with blonde hair braided high into a crown, wearing a dress that was little more than rags. Her bright green eyes had bored into me, making me feel like she could see the curse pacing inside the cage of my skin.
And now, the situation she was about to find herself in was my fault.
Fascinating as this mystery woman was, Maeron still deserved to answer for old sins while I had his ear. I wanted to rage. But instead, I took a breath so sharp it hurt. A tremor went through me as I forced the accusation out. “I came to you when I was seventeen, terrified, begging for answers. You offered nothing. But you’ve reaped the benefits of my suffering every day since.”
“We were as unable to break the curse then as we are now,” Maeron said smoothly. “The Assembly owes you much. But now, we must resolve your place in the succession. We must think about the future. We’re working on some ideas that could fix this. The continuity of powerful magic is paramount.”
“Thecontinuity…” I choked on the words, hating that I now knew exactly what he wanted from me.
In the days when mages ruled as gods, magic had filled every throne room. But after Avanfell’s empire fell, magic had started its decline, and the Assembly formed “to keep the balance.”
Now? The birth rate of true mages was the lowest ever. And dealing with the Assembly was an unfortunate necessity for all independent kingdoms in Avanfell. They were a nation unto themselves, with an army and enough gold to buy a throne of their own. They claimed neutrality, but my years working with them had revealed a hidden agenda: restoring mage rule.
Two of the three kingdoms on our island were led by a magical family, but few royals on the mainland still had magic running through their veins. My brother and I were among the strongest mage-monarchs, and thatmade us a tempting example for the Assembly to set for the rest of the world. Yet they wanted more than that, especially from me.
I leaned across the desk, silently pressing him.
