“We raid here,” Robin said. She shrugged, hoping to communicate a carelessness that she did not feel. Before they had created the loan system, Robin had spent many seasons secretly culling coin from the rich of Chendas and redistributing it amongst those who needed it most.
But, she had never done quite the same in Iseldis. The kingdom had been struggling with massive storms from the sea for several seasons. Storms that had devastated several cycles of crops, hurting the rich and poor of the kingdom alike.
And while Robin was no fan of King Frederich, she at least moderately respected the nobles of Iseldis who did their best—however bumbling—to help their kingdom.
Very few knew that the storms themselves had been fabricated by King Gareth of Chendas, who manipulated the weather patterns with chaos magic.
Robin had felt no remorse in taking from the corrupt nobles of Chendas.
But Ilida was right. Jelell Rodes needed that tonic to survive, and there were enough nobles in Iseldis who could spare a few coins.
“You should not have told me that.” Ilida sighed. “I hate the idea of stealing from our own.”
“It is time for our own to support their own,” Robin said.
Chapter 2
Ian ignored the morning chill as he descended the castle steps into the open courtyard below. The sun had barely shown its presence, not having had time to chase away the chill of the night.
While his body shivered awake, Ian’s mind was far away. Sleep had been fleeting since Meena and Sol had left for Falqri. They intended to secretly deplete Gareth’s store of chaos magic, but it was an incredibly dangerous mission, and Ian had no doubt that Gareth would brutally retaliate if he found out. When he found out.
Ian, only a few seasons younger than Gareth, had known the young king of Chendas for his entire life. They had never been close friends, though they had seen each other often. When they were children, Gareth had the annoying habit of turning every game into a competition, and he had a cruel streak that came out when he lost. Ian, Onric, and Aden had quickly learned to just let Gareth win. But Ian had also felt a certain kinship with the other prince, even if there had been no true friendship. They had both shared the heavy responsibility of being a future king, a responsibility that Gareth had been forced to take at a young age.
Ian’s feet begged him to return to his bed, with its blankets and leathers. But his mind did not even register the desire. He had no choice but to walk forward. To walk toward the small meeting room near the great hall of the castle, where his father already waited. Where they met daily to discuss the complicated future with their most trusted advisors. Ian crossed the courtyard and stepped into the slightly warmer hallway of the main castle. The smell of baking bread wafted through the halls. The kitchen staff were the only members of the palace who rose before the king.
Ian tried to relax his tense shoulders, but the cold still clung to him. He still could not fathom that Gareth, the boy he had known his whole life, was the true orchestrator of the fight they now faced—not the returning Majis.
It was Gareth who had orchestrated the attack that turned Aden into a beast—an attack that was intended for Ian. Gareth had also attempted to secretly execute Erich.
But that was far from the worst of it, and until now, the neighboring king had kept his nefarious activity a secret from, well, everyone.
When Gareth had inherited his crown, he had also inherited clandestine control of the Majis slaves on the Isle of Istroya. It was Gareth who had manufactured the storms that ravaged Iseldis, destroying every greenreign crop. And it was Gareth who had been feeding into the generational public sentiment that the Majis were their enemy.
Ian stopped for a moment outside the door to his father’s meeting room, composing himself as he attempted to gather his thoughts for the discussions ahead.
Even if they somehow defeated Gareth, then freed the Majis and convinced the people to welcome them back to Iseldis peacefully...Ian would still be getting up before the dawn, walking this same path from the palace wing of the royal familyto the meeting room of the king. This was his life, and it always would be.
He pushed open the door and stepped into the meeting room.
Not that he had to worry about taking the crown in the near future. His father was strong and healthy, and Ian was not eager to take his place.
As expected, King Frederich sat in his usual seat at the far end of a broad table. To his left, a clay pot puffed out steam, filling the room with the aroma of strong tea. Bread and fresh fruit sat on a wooden board at the center of the table.
The food looked untouched, but that was also expected.
King Frederich preferred to start his morning with only tea, but he always asked the kitchen to send up a plate of food for the other councilors who would be joining them.
At the moment, those councilors had yet to arrive.
Ian silently joined his father at the table. It was too early for idle words, and King Frederich seemed intensely focused on the parchment in front of him.
Ian poured himself a cup of tea, following his father’s preferences. He exhaled, settling deeper into his chair as the beverage brought warmth to his frigid body.
In order to defeat Gareth, Iseldis would have to make a public stand against him—and they would need the support of the surrounding kingdoms to do so. The other three kingdoms, however, had no reason to believe ill of Gareth and his intentions.
When Erich and Aizel had returned from Chendas and exposed Gareth’s treachery, King Frederich had instantly sent messages to Allys in the north and Etrar in the west. Falqri in the south seemed to have more knowledge of Gareth’s true intent, hence Sol and Meena had traveled there.
But asking the kingdoms to stand against Gareth was no small matter. It had been done in secret, and Frederich still waited to hear back from his fellow monarchs.
