Normally, I would protest at the idea of being ordered around. But I funnel again, this time directly onto the rock, staring at Asmo with triumph. “Come ba?—”
I funnel directly in front of him, the wind stirring strands of his hair.
He was right. I already feel like I have more control. I could go anywhere. My breath hitches as I think about where I can go now, and what I can do.
“What?” Asmo looks at me, one eyebrow raised.
“Nothing.” My net tugs with the lie.
Chapter 22
MARIK
The urge tohurl the crown from my head is overwhelming. Mother and Father sit on my left, beside King Katze and Queen Issa. Both Mother and Father survey the others with cool disinterest, a gleam in their eyes. They are proud to be here, Cora sitting on one end of the grand table in the castle’s great hall, me on the other. On my right, Kings Torben and Conall sit next to their queens—Artis and Sasha, respectively. All four of them sit with postures stiff as boards and gazes cold as ice.
“We’ve already agreed to house your witches,” Queen Sasha says tiredly. “We’ve had to implement a mandatory curfew because their creatures attack our citizens at night. Those who break the curfew are collected by guards and placed in our dungeons until first light. Our citizens are beginning to turn against us. And you expect us to allowmorewitches inandvote on them as a High House? Even though they’re responsible for the deaths of woodland animals and injuries against our citizens? Have you lost your minds?”
The High Council meeting has only been in session for five minutes, and already the air is thick with tension. Cora hasn’t said a single word, but that hasn’t stopped Houses Ursidae and Canis fromshooting death glares at her. I told her that Mae’s crown and the black aura wouldn’t help, but she insisted.
“I don’t think you’re understanding what I’m saying,” I say coolly. “Should you vote no today on the matter of the witches becoming a High House, there will be consequences.”
“Where is Mae?” Conall asks. Do I detect a challenge in his frosty blue eyes?
I grit my teeth. I knew this would be a problem. Given Elle’s most recent attempt on my life, I didn’t think it particularly wise to bring her to this meeting. Granted, I could have forced the issue. But, call me selfish, I don’t particularly like it when she gets all silent on me. It reminds me too much of someone I used to know—a version of myself that I broke free of long ago.
“She is indisposed,” I answer. “Cora is her trusted advisor and is attending in her place.”
Conall snorts. “You really expect us to believe that? What have you done to her? There’s no way she’s behind this. Behind her.” He waves his hand at Cora dismissively.
Wrong choice.
Cora doesn’t move, but her end of the table begins to rot, black mold and mildew spreading across its expanse. It stops at Sasha, then forms into a tiny hill of mold before growing an arm and reaching for her.
The chair shrieks against the floor as Sasha shoves away from the table and stands. “You intend to threaten us? Is that why you invited us here under the guise of a High Council meeting?” she spits at Cora.
Cora’s voice is low, almost a growl. “No. I intend to threaten your children. You will vote the witches in as a High House. Or your children will succumb to the blade. Do you understand?”
I grip the edges of my armrests at the threat. Conall stands, joining his wife. They link hands, ice forming at their feet.
“No, no,” Cora’s voice has turned pleasant, as if she just told them their children will be on the receiving end of an inheritance, not the wrong end of a sword. “There will be none of that. My witches and my creatures are on standby, black magic ready. Each of your offspring arein their sight. And if you so much as threaten me one more time, you will lose them one by one.”
“Liar,” Sasha growls.
Cora unfurls her wrist, and a hand mirror flies toward her. She strokes the edges, then flips it toward Sasha and Conall. An image of Princess Lola is reflected in the glass. She walks through stone hallways, her pink dress trailing behind her, long blonde hair unbound and cascading down her back in soft waves.
Sasha’s face pales. “H-how?”
Cora sets the mirror on the table. “Magic,” she says with a grin. Magic, and the witches that we forced the Houses to allow into their homes. “Now. Sit.”
They do. The King and Queen of House Canis sit on the edges of their chairs, but every inch of them is poised to attack.
Cora smiles, and I know she thinks she won. I know she thinks that her threats are working, that everyone is going to listen to her with their children’s lives on the line. But I know better. It will only piss them off. And an angry, scared predator is a dangerous enemy to have.
“Where is Mae?” Sasha asks through gritted teeth.
Cora settles back in her chair, fingers draped over the edge of her armrest. “Since we’re being honest with each other now,” she says, luminescent smile matching the gleam of her eyes, “Mae is dead. I’m High Queen now. Your subjects are not to learn this information, or my threat will ring true.”
My mother and father smile at her words, but the rest of the High Families flinch. It takes all my self-control to school my features. I warned Cora not to divulge this information, and yet, here she is. A headache begins to bloom. What the fuck is the point of giving my advice if she’s not going to listen to it?
