Giving up on the titles, I grabbed a random volume and brought it over to the bed. Age had faded the cover, but the yellowed pages were in pristine condition, like they’d never been read.
Lying on my stomach, I flipped to the middle.
“…five classes—a system which is synonymous with our modern civilization. The King, indeed, is in a class of his own. He is untouchable, indisputable, and synonymous with divinity. Beneath him are the Princepes who govern each Territory. They are dependent on the King; they have no power without the King. They do not act independently, but rather…”
I flipped to a new page.
“…See the example set by Jonathan IV’s reign. His Majesty allowed each Territory to name themselves afterseveral petitions from his Princepes and Lords. The result was six states with strong identities. While numerous factors contributed to the revolt during his successor’s rule, such a frivolous allowance undoubtedly encouraged the spirit behind several Territories’ rebellions, hence why the Territories reverted to their original numerical designations after Jonathan VI…”
If I remembered correctly, theJonathansruled over fifty years ago. This text was incredibly old. It was also mind-numbingly boring. I flipped to another page. After ten minutes, I realized it was lecturing me about the intricacies of the bartering system.
No wonder no one had read this book. It made Harthon’s shark trial seem like a preferable option. At least that experience had been stimulating.
Closing the book, I returned to the shelves to look for a more well-loved option. The ship rocked just as I reached the desk. I dropped the book to catch myself, wincing as my bruised hip made contact with the desk. The floor quickly leveled, and I waited, heart in my throat. One more lurch, and I’d be sprinting for the deck.
I wasn’t about to get sick again.
But as seconds passed, the ship remained steady. Breathing a sigh of relief, I glanced down. The book was splayed open, pages down. I swiped it up, ready to put it away, when a glimpse of a bolded title stopped me short. Settling against the desk, I brought it into focus.
Origins of Power.
Beneath it was a list. At first glance, the items listed were obvious.Food. Education. Gold.
My eyes snagged on a passage at the bottom, which was punctuated with a small star.
Land, Skies & Seas.
These are, perhaps, the only levers the King cannot influence independently. Rather, the Abomination acts as a bridge between His Majesty and these sources, which demand far more consideration than other items on this list. Consequences appear to be irrevocably tied with all uses.
It was clear the “Abomination” was themagvis. I knew from Harthon that themagvishad been kept as the King’s pet for years, ever since one swore an oath of loyalty in exchange for protection. That loyalty quickly morphed into captivity, and that oath was inherited through themagvis’line—an unending cycle of imprisonment.
The paragraph continued on the next page.
The Abomination calls forth a flood to drown an army or punish a people, and nearby land suffers from drought. It fertilizes a Territory’s land, and another suffers from unexplainable crop losses. It demands heat from the sun, and other skies grow cloudy. It is clear the Abomination draws the power for its feats from other places in the world. These consequences can last several weeks or months, and are so severe that they demand careful consideration. Observe the recent event that occurred under Jamison IV…
This was new to me, but it wasn’t surprising. I knew the Domus siphoned the life from our land, but it apparently wasn’t a one-off occurrence. Anything themagviscreated or caused used power from elsewhere, which made sense.
As much sense as an unnatural being could, anyway.
I didn’t know what number “IV” represented, but Jamison was clearly a king. The passage ended there, so I began searching other pages for his name.
By the time the letters blurred together and my eyes closed, I really wished I knew what number “IV” stood for so I could stop saying the letters in my head. The sound of the door opening had me flying upright, book held like a weapon. The alarm ebbedwhen I saw Harthon illuminated by the cabin’s warm glow, looking beautifully windswept. Not in a way that waspretty, but in a way that kept me gazing in both wariness and wonder.
His skin was always tanned, but his time on deck had brushed his cheeks with a hazy red. His hair was thick and textured from the salty air, and his tunic was wrinkled from the elements, draping open haphazardly at his sculpted chest. The whiskers along his square jaw were beginning to grow long again, like he hadn’t bothered looking in a mirror.
“You missed dinner.”
I dragged my eyes away from his face and to his hand, which held a small platter of food. “What time is it?”
“Three hours to midnight,” he answered, closing the door behind him.
Here I’d thought I’d closed my eyes for only a minute.
“What number does ‘IV’ stand for?”
His brows wrinkled. “Four.”
“How?”
