“I know you’re alarmed, but the truth of this remains to be seen,” I told the group.
As Pharis had said, only time would tell whether Caitriona had lied about the Elven fertility curse or whether it was real.
But I owed it to my people to be honest with them and do what I could to try to fix things.
“The Earthwives might be lying, trying to scare us. For the time being, we must assume that it’s real. I did witness a large group of them performing a sacrifice ritual tonight… and I was given the same information.”
Dismayed groans and cries of distress echoed throughout the room. The questions were flying so fast, it was difficult to determine who they were coming from.
“Why is this happening?”
“Can the curse be broken?”
“We are doomed.”
“Why was the King there?”
Once again, I called for calm.
“Please, everyone. Quiet please.Ifthe curse is real—and as I said, we have to assume that it is—it does indeed have something to do with me. As you know, the Earthwives have never beenfond of Elves as a whole, but I offended them, and I fear that’s what led to this.”
After a pause, I said, “That’s why I’m stepping down from the throne.”
Caitriona had said, “everyone under your rule,” when telling us what she and her Earthwife sisters had done. Hopefully if I was no longer ruling them, the curse wouldn’t affect our entire population.
The simultaneous gasps made it feel like all the air was sucked out of the throne room at once.
“What’s more,” I went on, “from this point forward, each regional lord will regain full control of his own region. The Sixlands will go back to the way it was before my father claimed rule over the continent for himself.”
The sounds in the room changed, becoming much more approving. I’d just told these men they were kings again, no longer subservient to a Supreme Ruler.
Probably not what they’d expected when they’d come here tonight.
“And what of Marinus?” someone called out. “Who will rule this region?”
As the Randalins had already been overlords of Marinus, my father had made this region the power seat of the Kingdom when he’d claimed sovereign rule over all Avrandar and the Sixlands.
“The Randalins will maintain control here,” I told them. “My brother Pharis will reign over Marinus from Castle Stormcrest.”
A couple of the regional leaders, Lord Lalor of Windros and Lord Sillery of Nordaris, nodded immediate approval. A minor lord from Marinus looked a bit less happy.
Lord Hyland of Nordica, whose daughter I’d thrown over for Raewyn the night before our planned wedding, still looked very unhappy indeed.
He spoke up. “And how do we know your abdication of the throne will be enough to lift the witches’ curse?”
Looking around at his fellow kings, he asked, “Wouldn’t it be safer for theformerKing Stellon to be executed, so that the curse may die with him?”
Pharis stepped to the front of the dais, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“The first one of you ungrateful dogs who tries it will be the first to die,” he growled. “As King of Marinus, I alone will decide my brother’s fate. If you don’t want war with my ‘Dark Court,’ then you’ll leave it at that.”
Chapter 32
Demonstration
Pharis
To back up my threat, I provided a demonstration of my powers.
