“The radicals are saying that Firose and King Mattock are disrupting the Order.” My eyes landed on the accused. “You have been seen in the Court of Helos too frequently, and a group of western radicals has formed in fear that they will be your first target should the North Corridor decide to attack the West.”
“That’s preposterous.” Firose’s stare turned to Wyeth quickly. “You must get your Corridor under control.”
“I shall handle the camps in the West.” Wyeth appeased Firose quickly. Her hair remained black—truth. Yet her posture slumped.
Cassidee nodded. She seemed even less eager than Wyeth, but she always agreed with Wyeth. “The East will send our flying fleets to aid in squashing any unrest. Wyeth, you have my support.”
The East Corridor armies were our fiercest, commanding air fleets of Griffiths. Through the centuries, the animals had been domesticated and trained for battle—a competitive advantage to attack from the sky. The creatures were winged like giant hawks with feline bodies, not much unlike the Lynx, only more useful.
“We must act quickly.” Firose seemed pleased with their commitments. “What about the Central Corridor? Do they, too, feel anxious?”
I shook my head. “The Central Corridor is quiet.”
Firose always dismissed the Southern isles. They were so distant from the main continent that she rarely asked Amara for aid and never deemed them a threat. Since joining the Sisterhood meetings on my eighteenth birthday, I’d often watched Amara and Firose go head-to-head. In recent years, their disagreement was near constant.
“Then we should vote—all in favor of eradicating the threat on the northwest border?”
Amara pointedly eyed Firose. “Can you first answer—what business do you have with King Mattock that you have been at the court so frequently?”
We all had to be wondering about it—we only left our towers if the ruler of our Corridor requested it. Amara had known Firose long before the rest of us, and though they often disagreed, they always came to an understanding that would benefit the realm.
“King Mattock is very ill. I have been tending to his ailments and helping the court’s healer keep him comfortable. Unfortunately, there is nothing more they can do. I was going to share the news last meeting, but he requested discretion until his prognosis was known.”
We all stilled—no one sipped their coffee, and no one spoke for what felt like minutes. In my two hundred years, I’d seen more than one transition of power. But the North had been under Mattock’s rule for centuries before my time, and Mattock was immortal. No illness could take him.
True Source magic, a descension of ancient bloodlines, was rare. And that type of power died out long ago. Except for within the towers and, I shuddered to think of it, in the Wastelands if anyone still remained there.
The Sun King was one of the last people with Source magic remaining in the realm. He was grandfathered in due to his royal standing. Mattock never married, nor had he sired an heir before the Order and the bans on immortal conception were decreed.
“That’s impossible.” Amara scoffed, but I saw something akin to fear glisten in her eyes.
Firose shook her head. “It should be—but he’s been blighted by magic that I can’t undo. His mind slips away more and more each day.”
Amara’s back tensed, and her golden-brown eyes seemed far away.
“So the rising from the West—” Cassidee started.
“Could be a coup,” Firose finished for her. “It’s possible word has begun to spread—it’s been hard to contain that an infallible King has struck ill. So we must appoint someone to power.”
Amara cleared her throat, and sunlight from the window gleamed against her brown skin. For someone who had taught me to control my emotions expertly, she said so much with her eyes. They were drenched in sadness and unshed tears.
“We willallneed to weigh in on that matter.” Amara’s voice was strained.
What was I missing?It was so unlike her to appear moved in any way in front of the others.
“Of course,” Firose answered with mild annoyance. “But the King hasn’t even gone cold. We will discuss the next steps for finding his replacement during our next meeting. For now—shall we vote to handle the more pressing matter of threats on the northwest border? I vote that we quell the unrest with force. Those in favor?”
“I second,” Cassidee confirmed.
“I,” Wyeth added.
Firose loosed a smile—she had a majority. While it took all of our votes to make any decision, we tended to make decisions as a unit.
Amara seemed conflicted before she sighed and agreed. “I.”
“I.” The word felt as wrong as the energy in the room.
Amara watched a bird that was perched outside the gilded window frame. She seemed to grow removed from the conversation.
