More fire burns through my veins.
At some unspoken signal, someone steps forward from the crowd. He looks like a bad Napoleon cosplay, with his white pants, short jacket topped with golden shoulder pads, and tall boots. He gives a deep bow to Need before rising and placing a hand to his heart. “Your holiness and esteemed Council members,” he begins.
Shock rolls through me at the mention of the Council, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice about a dozen other chairs on the right side of the platform. The chairs are slightly less intricate than Need’s but still much more ornate than Leon’s. Most members of the Council are hidden by the chair backings, and I can only make out a few profiles.
Still, I don’t miss the two sets of bright pink fairy wings, since their seats look specifically designed to accommodate them. One is wearing a black and red crown, and I assume she’s the Fae Queen. The fairy beside her turns, and Lilanthara smirks as she takes in the position I’m in.
Not wanting to give her any attention, I turn back to the Napoleon-cosplay man. He’s listing off numbers of jewels, I think from a recent trade run. When he reaches the last number, he raises his hand and snaps twice. Two men in similar attire come forward, placing a chest overflowing with precious jewels at Need’s feet.
“The tithe for the calm seas,” he declares.
A tithe – as in payment? Why would someone be paying off Need for calm seas? Seems weird, but okay.
Need considers the chest before nodding, and Napoleon’s shoulder pads sag in relief. He steps back into the crowd as two guards emerge from behind marble columns and carry the chest away. I track their movement, only to pause when I meet the familiar yellow eyes of another person seated in the Council chairs.
Ragna.
Well, I suppose that explains why she wasn’t impressed by Leon. She’s in a position of higher authority, if this set-up is any indication. Even Rosie’s sister gets to sit closer to the front. It looks like Leon is still stuck at the kids’ table.
I want to smirk, knowing it must be killing him, but Ragna’s expression stops me. She narrows her eyes, staring between Leon and me in obvious distaste. Either she hates that Leon is even up on this platform, or she’s also not a fan of misogyny.
My pulse quickens at the thought that she might be a possible ally. Now I’m kicking myself for not getting more details from Morgana about who was planning on joining our side of the war.
A new person steps out of the crowd, and Ragna turns her attention to him. He’s wearing a loose-fitting black shirt, tucked into black britches. His greasy black hair hangs loose, and his only accent of color is a thick golden chain that hangs around his neck. He reminds me of the people I saw in the black market – the ones who looked like pirates.
If he is from the black market, then I’m surprised to see him here, since Leon mentioned that those individuals mostly govern themselves.
“Yer holiness,” he begins, giving a slight bow. “Council.” He straightens up and plants his hands on the belt, which is noticeably empty of weapons. “We got our’selves a situation startin’ up. Businesses are startin’ to worry. Ain’t no more souls comin’ in. N’fact, haven’t received a shipment in a week.”
Hearing that the spirits are going missing in more than just the castle is setting off alarms in my mind. That can’t be good.
The man looks at Need expectantly, and she only lifts an unimpressed brow. More time passes in silence until the man clears his throat, now looking slightly nervous. “Well – I’d like to know, does the Council know what’s goin’ on? Are ye lookin’ into it?”
Need raises a hand in a nonchalant gesture. “There are slow weeks for souls. That you are incapable of bringing in product for your business is a problem for the black market and does not concern the Council.”
The man looks like he wants to argue, but shuts his mouth when two guards take a threatening step forward. He backs up and goes silent. But it’s too late. More people from the crowd, including some of the well-dressed gentlemen, start to speak up.
“I’m here about the souls as well!”
“My entire staff has gone missing in the last three days.”
“I didn’t see any spirits here either!”
“Even the harvesters have stopped coming to town.”
“Where are they going?”
The voices grow exceedingly panicked until finally, Need calls out, “Silence!” There’s power laced into the words, and her voice reverberates around the room. The crowd falls back into absolute silence. “Those are indeed troubling reports. The Council will be looking into them, effective immediately. We will find the souls and restore things to the way they were. Until then, the court is dismissed.”
Need’s assurances are met with sounds of approval. My unease only mounts. Clearly, she already knew that the spirits were going missing, since the castle is completely void of them. And yet, she still tried to sweep the issue under the rug. Whatever is happening, Need is clearly at the center of it.
I scan the crowd, hoping at least some of them look suspicious, but much to my dismay, they all look hopeful as they leave the room in an orderly fashion.
Is the Otherworld education system lacking?
Where are the critical thinking skills?
Where are the conspiracy theorists?
