I don’t have time to finish the story before the council meeting, but we all know how it ends. Enidwen’s sacrifice of her own humanity in favor of avarice was said to be the beginning of the end of magic. Ironically, she risked it all for ultimate power, only to lose it not just for herself, but for the kingdom. Other Dark Mages called Basduunai—death bringers—were less renowned than her, but equally feared.
Dark Magic instigated a widespread paranoia as deadly as the plague itself. Thus began the Purge that rid the land of any magic. The overwhelming fear of Otherworlders—of faeries and changelings—led to the banishment of children suspected of being tainted by magic. Deformities and inexplicable illnesses became proof of Otherworld activity.
Then came the mass banishments. Sanctioned by the crown, the raids were meant as a reminder to the “lesser” citizens—a reminder of how Enidwen’s actions supposedly sullied the land. Forayers were dispatched to keep people who were different in their place, so that Grounders—as Enidwen allegedly was—wouldn’t dare to eventryto rise to power again.
All because of afairytale.
If the gods were truly still among us, would this be allowed? What would they say?
Damn them all, probably. I’m certain we’ve already been damned. Did my mother know the kingdom was still such a mess, or did it devolve during the months of her spiraling illness? I rise with the tome in my hands, press a kiss to her forehead, and leave the room as quickly as I can—to get away from the glaringly obvious proof that my ascent to the throne may come faster than anticipated.
CHAPTER 20
Carys
Six pairsof eyes turn to me as I stride into the council chamber in the late morning. The space is spectacularly ornate for someplace where the most boring of affairs occur. Light filters in through the few window panels in the domed ceiling and onto an oval mahogany table at the center, the surface imbued with whorls of gold and bronze. Ten high-backed chairs with cushioned leather surround it. As everyone rushes to stand, their chairs scrape against the varnished terracotta-colored tiles.
I acknowledge the councilors’ scattered greetings with a nod. Callum pulls out the chair at the head of the table, and I take my place across from Iywan.
My mother’s seat.
Callum stands beside my chair, on guard.
Gods, I hope this meeting doesn’t last too long. I’ve been told that Wynn Odhran, our trades merchant, is scheduled to make a delivery today, and I’d be remiss if I lost the opportunity to see him.
Lady Sessaley, the mistress of ceremonies, smiles from her spot on Iywan’s left. Her silvery blond hair is pulled into a topknot so tight it makesmyhead hurt. Closer to my side of the table, Lady Taliesin, the treasurer, runs her fingers through short grey hair. For someone around Iywan’s age, her golden-brown skin is uncannily smooth. What’s her secret?
“Belhan was just updating us on the situation with the rebels,” Iywan says, pulling me from my thoughts.
Ah, the rebels. They’re an oddly quiet group aside from the occasional interception of Forayer activity in the Grounds. Their attempts to directly attack Paramount are so scarce I find it hardly worth mentioning.
Belhan turns his beady eyes toward me, his hands steepled across his barrel chest. “Yes, there’s unrest in the southeast. Rumors of rebel droves traveling toward our gates have been on the rise. We’ve already alerted the Royal Brigade of the threat.”
I narrow my eyes. “The Royal Brigade? To deal with rebels? Seems a bit… extreme.”
“The rebellion isn’t just gaining in numbers, Your Highness, but in strength too. They’ve been attacking with weapons of mass destruction.”
“Mass destruction…” I doubt the weapons of a few rebels are a match for the Royal Brigade. “Having the Royal Brigade deal with rebels sounds like a poor allocation of power. What about protecting us from neighboring kingdoms, Ardall in particular?”
“We have a peace treaty with Ardall, Your Highness,” Councilor Tomen says.
I turn my attention to the master of foreign affairs, my chin lifted and expression unperturbed. “I am aware of that, Councilor Tomen.But until months ago, Erleya and Ardall were locked in a three-hundred-day war. Better safe than sorry.”
He looks away.
Caldeon, on the other hand, has not attempted to attack our kingdom in decades, but there has been increasing unrest between their kingdom and Ardall. With both kingdoms just a short sail away from the northeastern tip of Erleya, our army has always been vigilant of the possibility of war.
Tomen speaks up again, his cloudy eyes somewhat focused in my general direction. “In the unlikely event that Caldeon or Ardall launches an attack on Erleya, our defense force is formidable enough to spare manpower to protect Paramount from rebel attacks.”
“Why not utilize the Forayers rather than the Royal Brigade soldiers to protect against rebel attacks?”
“Mercenaries are complex, Your Highness.” Tomen runs his hand over what’s left of his white hair and Belhan bobs his head promptly in agreement, his jowls shaking.
“And yet we allow them to abuse their power.” The words slip out.
The lines on Belhan’s wide, russet forehead deepen. “Forgive me, Princess, but what do you mean byabuse their power?”
“I mean Forayers are apprehending innocent civilians in the Grounds for petty misdemeanors. Just recently, a botanist was taken on the suspicion of stealing a dress—fromBallybaeg. Under what law is it punishable to sentence her to service as a Veilguard for stealing a garment from another Grounds village?”
