Odessa pulls up a chair, the red velvet cushion harsh against the white background that makes up most of the room. She gestures for me to take the chair on her right. Once we’re seated in our chairs, the rest of the council members take their seats.
Every chair is the same, not a single one indicating a place of power.
I smile, realizing this is a monarchy based on a partnership between the royal family and the councilors. The council consists of a few Valkyries, but the rest are citizens whom I haven’t been formally introduced to. It’s an eclectic mix of men and women. Some of them give me kind smiles or polite nods, but others eye me apprehensively. Their looks seemingly label me as an outsider.
Odessa makes a show of introducing me to the council. “This is my niece, daughter of our former queen, the rightful heir to the throne, Helena.”
There’s a brief pause, and I glance down at my hands folded in my lap to avoid all the eyes that are now turned on me.
Odessa begins introducing the council members seated around the table, starting with the man on her left, and I look back up. “This is Ashur of the Mesopotamian District.”
She gestures to an olive-complexioned man. His thick, dark, curly hair bobs as he nods to me. His jet-black eyes appear friendly as they meet my own. His long beard is neatly trimmed and braided down to his chest. The robe he’s wearing is very regal, and the dark red of the fabric adds an air of superiority. I suddenly feel underdressed in my simple lilac skirt and leather training top.
Odessa explains, “The Mesopotamian District is located on our next closest island, Ishtar.”
“After the Goddess?” I ask.
Ashur’s eyes blaze with delight and something else, but he nods. His voice is like thunder as he asks, “You know our history?”
I have to hold myself back from nodding too excitedly. “I do. I’ve always been fascinated by history and cultures.”
His smile is kind, his eyes warming instantly. “That will serve you well here.”
“This is Satiah, the elected councilor from the Egyptian District.”
Odessa gestures to the woman beside Ashur. My eyes meet hers, and I have to stifle a gasp. She is breathtaking. Her warm, brown eyes are lined with kohl, and she studies me in return. Her short black hair is sleek and shiny, the length reaching right above her thin shoulders. She places a hand on her chest and gives me a seated bow, the white robe she’s wearing slipping down her forearm, and her gold bracelets twinkle with the movement.
“Boudicca, from the Celt District.” Odessa points to the woman seated beside Satiah. This woman is a queen in her own way. Her keen green eyes crudely analyze me. I lock my muscles into place so I don’t squirm under her gaze. But then, as if she’ssatisfied with what she sees, she smiles. The change in her appearance is like the sun breaking through clouds.
She also bobs her head in greeting, the riotous mass of oxblood curls bouncing with the movement. “Our district makes up half of Scota Island.”
Her voice is lilting, and her accent is comforting in a way that Lachlan’s often was.
It’s becoming difficult to keep track of the names and districts of each person. My palms become clammy, and I rub them together under the table. My necklace is tucked under the neckline of my top, and I focus on its familiar weight to work past my rising panic.
Breathe, focus,I’ve got this.
“Joan, of the South District.” Odessa gestures towards a petite woman with very short, espresso-brown hair. “That district is a collection of multiple groups,” Odessa explains.
Joan does not bow or even move, but her large dark eyes briefly scan over me before she stares straight ahead again. It’s not a dismissal, and for some reason, I don’t even take it as a slight. It seems as if the girl, or woman, is very untrusting. She’s dressed much differently than the other women, too, in a black tunic and pants. I admire her choice and smile at her. A twitch of her lips is the only sign she notices.
Odessa is already introducing the man seated next to Joan. “Leif, of the North District.”
The broad-shouldered man stands, his dark blue eyes locked onto mine. He thumps his brown tunic-clad chest with a large fist. His sandy blonde hair is shorn to his scalp on the sides, leaving a single braid that stretches down the middle of his head. I smile at him in response, his greeting impressive compared to the others. His severe expression remains in place as he resumes sitting.
“What a fine greeting, Leif.” Odessa eyes him, a single brow arching.
He meets her stare head-on before flicking his eyes to me. “She is our savior, is she not?” His words drop like a stone in my gut.
That word again, savior.
She ignores him and waves to the four Valkyries seated together. “These four, you know,” she murmurs.
I smile at Mathilda, Mina, Luna, and Elowen.
“Each Valkyrie is assigned a district or several to oversee with their elected councilors.”
Odessa continues, “This is Marcus, the councilor for the Roman District.” Her voice is tinged with pride as she introduces the man, who bears a striking resemblance to Julius.
