Aden stayed in the safety of the shadows, thankful that his father had not called him to his usual place in the family circle. The private salon, lined with chairs and small sofas, was the preferred meeting place of the royal family. Only immediate family and a few trusted members of the household were allowed to enter it.
But they were currently breaking that sacred tradition, holding the most complicated discussion the family had ever had with two newly arrived outsiders from the Council of Chendas.
“You have handled the situation well these past four days,” one of the councilors said, nodding his approval. He was speaking to King Frederich, who had just given him a detailed account of everything they knew concerning Lord Munney’s treachery and Aden’s current state.
The councilor turned his gaze toward Aden, likely attempting to see him more clearly in the shadows outside the reach of the candles on the wall.
Aden could not clearly make out the man’s face. Though his voice had been matter-of-fact, it also held notes of compassion. But Aden made no move to step closer into the light, no matter how honest the councilor appeared.
“And what of the attack on the coast?” the councilor asked King Frederich. “Were your men able to apprehend the two Majis ships?”
“No,” the king replied, “our attacking ship was destroyed this morning by a powerful storm. They have recovered some survivors, but most are still missing.”
Erich was still missing. A messenger had arrived from the coast mere hours before the councilors had ridden in from the opposite direction. King Frederich had sent another contingent of soldiers to the coast, to both aid in the recovery and fortify their defenses.
“Your son was on that ship?” the councilor asked. “I am sorry to hear that. With your permission, my brother, King Gareth, will send two hundred men to aid you on the coast.”
“His aid would be most appreciated,” King Frederich responded.
The tension in the room was palpable. Still shocked by the news of Erich’s disappearance, the family had not yet had a chance to mourn. The severity of the storm was so intense that only three men from the ship of nearly one hundred had made it back to the shore. Every hour reduced the odds that any remaining survivors would be found.
“What advice do you bring for us to move forward?” King Frederich asked, moving the conversation away from his missing son.
The councilor turned his attention back to the king and queen, who were seated next to each other on a cushioned sofa. “We were deeply shocked and concerned to discover that Munney was hiding in our midst. My brother, King Gareth, has launched a full-scale investigation in Chendas to discover if any other council members are allied with the Majis. We left as soon as we received word from your messenger, so I do not have results on that front.”
“And what of Crown Prince Ian, Your Majesty?” the second councilor asked. “Have you moved forward with the request made at the last session?”
Aden noted the lack of tact exhibited by the man whose power was supposed to be in his words. He had hardly offered a condolence concerning Erich, but was pushing forward his own interests in regard to Ian.
The rest of the room remained silent. Even King Frederich did not respond immediately.
Aden could imagine him raising his eyebrows as he emitted his disapproval of the question. The Council had requested that Ian choose his future wife and queen at the ball.
Ian himself was sitting on a wooden chair next to his parents. Aden wondered if his older brother’s expression was slightly more livid. Ian was not yet quite as skilled as their father when it came to masking his emotions.
“Under the circumstances, we did not carry out the full extent of that plan,” King Frederich finally said.
“Under the circumstances,” the second councilor responded, “it may make the most sense to move forward with that plan as quickly as possible. Now, more than ever, the people need see that your kingdom has a united front, especially as it mourns the loss of Prince Erich.”
Onric, who had been pacing across the opposite side of the room, had abruptly stopped. Aden felt himself wishing that his brother would start moving again. The steady drumbeat of his footsteps, however loud they were, at least offered an outlet for the tension in the room. Aden perceived a new set of footsteps from some distance down the hall outside the door. They would have a new visitor momentarily.
“Shall we stay focused on the matter at hand?” King Frederich’s tone made it clear he was not asking a question.
“Of course, Your Majesty.” The older councilman turned his gaze back toward Aden.
Before he could say anything further, he was interrupted by the door of the salon slamming open. Only family members entered without knocking.
“Why was I not informed of this meeting?” Princess Meena entered, the higher register of her demanding voice making Aden’s ears throb. Meena had inherited her mother’s commanding presence.
“It was late...” King Frederich started, but his daughter’s crossed arms stopped him short. The side of Aden’s mouth twitched as he imagined her indignant expression. She was her father’s only daughter, and she knew it.
“I am no longer a child.” As the youngest member of the family, she was sixteen.
Their father nodded toward the remaining empty chair.
She sat.
“Now, can we get back to the presence of a traitorous magic-wielder in the Council infiltrating my kingdom and attacking my sons.” King Frederich turned his attention back to the councilor.
