Why did I think they would want to fight alongside people who left them to die?
“But Princess Anthia is not her mother.”
My head snapped up, and I found Samra’s gaze locked with mine. “What she endured to hatch that crow and bring it safely here before us was no small task. It took strength and bravery and sheer, unwavering will on a level I’ve seen in few people. She is not responsible for the decisions made when she was a child. She’s responsible only for her own choices, and she decided to walk into the heart of Illucian territory, stand face-to-face with Razel, and set fire to her carefully laid plans.”
My throat tightened as I straightened.
“Over the last couple of weeks, Anthia has proven herself a leader I will follow.” Samra lifted her gaze to the king and queen. “The Ambriels will ally with Rhodaire.”
Her pronouncement echoed, both in the chamber and inside my head, a heavy refrain:A leader I will follow.
Samra sat, not looking at Elkona, whose very skin burned with the ferocity inside her. I knew that kind of hatred like my hands knew the familiar grip of my bow. I held it close to my own heart. There was nothing anyone could say to convince Elkona that I was not her enemy.
Several Trendellan council members rose to speak. They discussed the logistics of supporting a war, the impact on the Trendellan economy and its people. Some asked me questions about Rhodaire, and I gave the information Caliza had provided me, from the numbers in our army, to our food stores, to our access to ships. All the while, the king and queen remained in silent consideration, and I felt Elkona’s searing gaze cutting into me.
The Ambriels would not be enough on their own. We needed Trendell.
“Princess Anthia,” said a council member. “Could you please describe for us the extent of your crow’s powers?”
Reluctantly, I stood to take the floor. Sweat coated my palms, and I wiped them reflexively on my pants. Elkona’s sharp eyes missed none of my nervousness.
“Res is a storm crow,” I explained. “His abilities are well suited to fighting large numbers. We can damage the Illucian army in a variety of ways with the things he’s capable of, from impacting the battlefield to direct, widespread attacks. However—” I hesitated. Telling them about Res’s other abilities could secure the alliance, but what if they asked for proof? I couldn’t be certain Res would give it to them.
The room waited, all eyes on me. Then—
“Show us.” Elkona’s voice dropped like a stone through the silence.
“What?” My voice caught in my throat.
She stood, brazenly disregarding the speaking procedures. “If he’s so powerful, prove it. Show us what he can do.”
I swallowed hard and looked to Res. He cooed softly, shrinking down.
Please, I begged.
“Well?” Elkona asked. “Does he even have magic?”
“Of course he does!” I snapped.
She gestured to the room. “Whenever it pleases you then.”
“Come on, you bloody chicken,” Kiva hissed under her breath.
Res, please!I couldn’t hold back the wave of anxiety that flooded down the line. Res reared back, cawing, but I felt his power surge. Felt him reach for it—and turn away. He stepped back, shaking his head, his gray eyes bright. His fear, his sorrow, his apology—they all surged along our connection in a tumbling mess.
“Princess Anthia?” Queen Luhara’s normally steady voice betrayed her confusion.
I whirled back to her, panic rising. “He can do it,” I promised. “He’s just scared right now.”
“Scared?” one of the council members asked. “Of what?”
I started to respond, then stopped. What could I say? That Res feared his own magic? Elkona would laugh in my face.
“We had a run-in with the Illucian blockade on our way here,” I said. “He’s just a little shaken from his first battle. He just needs a couple of days.”
Elkona snorted, folding her arms. “How convenient.”
“Watch yourself,” Kiva growled, rising to her feet. “Or are you calling Anthia a liar?”
