I held up a hand, and they fell silent. “Captain Brishon is already investigating. In the meantime, I want a complete inventory of who has access to each affected area, particularly my wife’s tower.”
Rathley cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should consider more drastic measures to ensure your safety, Your Majesty.”
“Such as?”
“Temporary restrictions on magical practices within the castle.” His eyes gleamed with concern. “And, naturally, all enchantments should require council approval until this matter is resolved.”
And there it was. The attempt to use this crisis to consolidate power. To control Cyrene.
“That seems excessive.” Anger simmered beneath my projected calm.
“Is your safety excessive?” Lady Aragorn asked, her voice gentle. “Is our queen’s? If her magic is being targeted, perhaps she would be safer elsewhere until this threat is neutralized. With her grandmother, perhaps. Surely the head of the witch council can protect her own granddaughter better than us in these uncertain times.”
The suggestion was so perfectly reasonable, so carefully phrased, that I almost missed the trap beneath the words. Send Cyrene away—for herprotection, of course—effectively ending our newly strengthened bond and giving my advisors what they appeared towant: me as under their control as I’d been after my parents were killed.
“My wife stays where she belongs,” I said. “At my side.”
The lady’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course, Your Majesty. I merely suggested?—”
“Your suggestion is noted and declined.”
An uncomfortable silence fell across the room. I let it linger, studying the faces around the table. These had been my father’s advisors, people who had served our family for years. Could one of them be behind the blood magic? Or were they merely opportunists, using the situation to their advantage?
“The ball will proceed tomorrow as planned,” I said. “Captain Brishon, add more guards throughout the castle, particularly near my wife’s workshop and our chambers and among the staff.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Lord Broadworthy, research any historical precedents of blood magic being used against joy witches and magic used to drain people’s magic. There may be clues in the archives about how to counter both concerns more effectively.”
The old man nodded, already looking eager at the prospect of research.
“The rest of you, proceed with ball preparations. I want everything perfect for tomorrow evening.” I rose from my chair, signaling the end of the meeting. “And remember, any threat to my wife is a threat to me. I will respond accordingly.”
Two filed out, murmuring in hushed voices. Only Broadworthy lingered, his weathered face troubled.
“Do you need something from me?” I asked when we were alone.
“I’m concerned about the timing, Your Majesty.” He ran a gnarled hand through his thinning white hair. “These incidents escalating just before you’re to perform the Shadow Rite feels deliberate.”
I’d had the same thought. “You believe someone wants us to fail.”
“Or worse.” His eyes, still sharp despite his advanced years, met mine directly. “It’s more than symbolic, as you know. It creates a temporary magical fusion between partners.”
“Similar to what happens when vampire nobles exchange blood in the marriage ritual.”
He nodded. “If someone has been tampering with our queen’s magic…”
“The dance could trigger something unexpected.” A cold knot formed in my belly. “Or dangerous.”
“It might be wise to postpone.”
I considered it. Postponing would be the cautious choice, the safe one. But it would also signal weakness to the court and suggest that I doubted our ability to complete the ritual properly.
It would play directly into the hands of whoever wanted to undermine us.
“No,” I said. “We proceed as planned. But I want you in the front row, watching for any signs of magical interference.”
“As you wish.” He bowed before shuffling from the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
