“What of the prisoners taken at the end of the battle?” one of the men from Ulrich’s party asked. “Have all the soldiers who served under Morkai been put to death?”
Cora’s blood went cold. While she knew Morkai had earned the loyalties of some of his soldiers, there had to have been countless more who’d simply fallen under his glamour.
“Many have,” Kevan said, running a hand through his thick beard. “Any who revealed hostility or unwavering loyalty to the departed duke were executed at once. Their families have been informed that they died in battle serving the king. As for the rest, we’re taking it one day at a time. We can’t release a host of soldiers claiming to have lost their memories. And those who have retained their memories know of certain facts we can’t let them share. Should too many similar tales begin to proliferate?—”
“You can’t kill them all.” The words burst from Cora’s lips. “Most have been afflicted in the same way my brother has. Duke Morkai’s dark magic is to blame, not his victims.”
Kevan pinned her with a glare. “If you’d waited until I’d finished, you’d have heard me state just that. Considering this is your first time sitting with a royal council, your childish behavior is excusable, Highness, but going forward do respect the speaker and wait your turn.”
Heat rose to Cora’s cheeks. She hated being scolded by him but arguing would only further his point. Pursing her lips, she funneled her rage by gripping the armrests of her chair.
“And going forward,” Dimetreus said, steely gaze on Kevan, “you will speak to the princess as befits any other man on the council. Understood?”
Kevan’s beard twitched as he shifted his jaw side to side. It seemed to pain him greatly to offer the king a tight-lipped, “Understood.”
Ulrich sat a little straighter, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What my brother was going to say is that we are aware that we cannot execute all the soldiers who fought at Centerpointe Rock. Many have only good things to say about their king. We are going to use their confusion in our favor. We’ve begun feeding them a tale that the duke had utilized a chemical poison during the battle which resulted in hallucinations and memory loss. Those who accept this story are being sent home, honorably discharged from service, after a thorough interview.”
Cora relaxed at that, and she regretted her earlier outburst.
“That will help explain away all mention of ghosts and monsters,” one of the men said with an approving nod. “Even if rumors do spread, the official statement will counter it.”
“A similar story has been fed to the soldiers who fought for Menah and Selay,” Ulrich said. “Since they lack the memory loss of those who’d been controlled by the duke, their conviction over what they witnessed is stronger. But it’s less important that they believe the story and more that they understand to keep quiet. No civilians were present at Centerpointe Rock, only military personnel. Anyone caught spreading rumors about dark magic and sorcery will be dishonorably discharged.”
This time when Cora spoke, she kept her tone neutral. “So all word of magic is being stripped from the official story?”
“Yes,” Kevan said. “There is no point in frightening the public. Now that the duke is dead, magic can return to being a thing of myth.”
“But magic is real.” Cora’s heart hammered at the confession.
Some of the men paled while others shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
“No, it is not,” Lord Danforth said with a sniff. “Whatever happened at Centerpointe Rock was a singular occurrence. Our story about chemical poisons and hallucinations very well might be true. It makes a hell of a lot more sense than sorcery.”
Cora lowered her shields to sense the emotions coming from the men around her. She was struck with fear, discomfort, and dissociation. Conflict writhed through them, a war between the terrifying truth and the far more comforting lie.
Only now did it strike her that no one had referred to Morkai as a sorcerer or mage, only a duke. They were not only lying to the public…but to themselves.
With her shields back in place, she sank against the back of her chair, regarding the men before her. They knew the truth. They knew dark magic existed, yet they were content to pretend it had never happened.
She supposed she shouldn’t have expected anything more. The average citizen didn’t believe in magic, and anything deemedtoo differentwas often met with suspicion. Which included witches—people born with one of the six sensory magics. If their Art caused them to reveal strange tendencies, keen senses, or miraculous abilities, they were often cast out of society. That was the very reason the Forest People, who’d once only been comprised of Faeryn descendants, began to welcome witches into the commune. Just like they’d welcomed Cora. Nurtured her Art.
A heavy sorrow filled her chest as she realized she was right back where she’d been as a child—hiding her magic lest she be judged for it.
It doesn’t have to be forever, she reminded herself.In the meantime, there are still things I can do. Issues only a princess can solve.
She sat up straighter. “What of the unicorns?”
“What about them?” Kevan asked. “They are no more evidence of magic than a horse is. They are simply an ancient species that has recovered from extinction.”
He was wrong about that. Unicorns were fae creatures, and where they’d suddenly returned from remained a mystery. However, that was not the topic she wanted to discuss. “What is being done about those who hunted them? I’m sure you’ve been told in the final report compiled by King Verdian’s inquisitors that I came across multiple parties of unicorn hunters who served Morkai.”
It had been a necessary truth to confess since it explained how she and Teryn had crossed paths. Of course, she’d neglected to admit anything about having poisoned a group of them. Teryn, it seemed, had stayed quiet on the subject as well.
Ulrich answered. “A proclamation has been publicly made against any hunters continuing work in the duke’s name, and bounties have been offered in exchange for the recapture of the criminals the duke had freed.”
Cora narrowed her eyes. “Has unicorn hunting been abolished? It is a cruel practice and should not be allowed, especially when a species is endangered, as Lord Kevan has pointed out.”
“You can rest assured,” Lord Danforth said, “that unicorn hunting has been strictly regulated.”
