Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
ASTER
D ays later, the sun began to rise, casting a golden glow upon the dark palace walls. I had instructed Morgana to read. We hadn’t physically trained since her outburst, partially because I cared not for her strife, but mostly because I did not have the energy. It was like she drained me—not of vitality, even. Of patience. Of focus. Of… discipline. My shadows had been working incessantly to convince me of breaking my control.
They craved her, and if my shadows hungered for too long, they’d punish me.
Shifting in my seat at the head of the council room table, Archmage Oren, Lord Chancellor Wylliam, my sister, and of course, Atlas, who had returned his items from the estate against my wishes—awaited my judgment. At the very least, he was in the wing furthest from Morgana.
The weight of my crown was a heavy burden on my shoulders, but it also served as a reminder of the duty I held not only to my kingdom but also to my family. To myself.
The council members stared at me with heavy eyes. “Word has reached King Lucif of our request?” I muttered. Lord Chancellor Wylliam, who looked like he was ready to crawl back into bed and sleep the morning away, nodded curtly. I could practically smell the mead permeating off his pores.
“Our request has been received with spite. He sent back a bloody napkin and a letter that, respectfully, instructed the crown to eat it so we can cure ourselves of the plague before it reaches your mind.”
“King Lucif would rather trust the age-old practices of blood magic over our evidence,” Archmage Oren muttered. “It is their specialty, I should remind you.”
“Fortunately, Archmage Oren, the shadows are far more terrifying than an old hag who drinks blood to retain her youth. If he is not receptive to our letters, then I will need to make an unannounced visit.” I leaned back in my seat, the space between my eyebrows pounding incessantly.
My cousin, who had been dutifully silent across the table, laughed. Richly so—it vibrated off the walls and made me tense. I turned my focus to him and feigned a smile. Atlas leaned forward. “Please, my prince. I invite you to board the next train to Avendatis. Shorten the line of succession. It is the wisest choice.”
“Careful with your threats,” Erynna muttered.
“It is no threat,” Atlas said and held out a hand in retreat. He didn’t face her as he continued. “It is the type of man King Lucif is. Those blood mages can do more than retain their youth.”
“What is it you suggest then?” Lord Chancellor Wylliam asked, sighing as he took in a long, obnoxious sip of tea. It was as if the sunlight ailed him. He was weak. No wonder my father turned out the way he did—plague or no plague.
Atlas’s smirk twitched. “I suggest you utilize that prisoner, Aster?—”
“That is the crown prince. Speak to him with resp—” Erynna hissed but snapped her mouth shut when I held a hand to silence her. I loved my sister, but she loathed Atlas with every fiber of her being. How she survived tailing him these past few days, I’d never know.
I did not blame her. But I also did not need her to speak for me. She settled into her chair and seethed, silently.
“As I was saying, Your Grace. I suggest you utilize that prisoner before she finds a way to break free. She may not understand the magic in her veins, if it is there in the first place, but she has to have other meaningful qualities. I trust that is what has attracted you to her?” The title was a jab. There were two types of kings in the Sinclair lineage—those who were seen as pawns, and those who were seen as great.
His tone implied everything I needed to know.
Wylliam cleared his throat, a sheen of sweat lining his brow. “Perhaps Atlas has a point, Your Greatness. The prisoner may hold valuable information or skills that could aid us in our quest to break the curse.” His words were cautious—he’d witnessed firsthand before what a volatile conflict between myself and Atlas could amount to. We were far younger, not even five years old, but it was as if we were destined to fight each other. He was my ultimate test—my ultimate threat. “It may help her prepare for the trials that await her in the University of Arcane Magics too.”
I glanced at Erynna, who was still seething. She nodded once though. I hated that she nodded. I hated it so much that I cursed and stood on my feet, pacing back and forth with two fingers pinching the bridge of my nose. “She is not ready?—”
“You think she is weak,” Atlas almost sang. It was of mockery and disdain. “You think she is incapable? Give her to me, for but a day. I can change that.”
I shot him a pointed glare and he merely smiled. “You are not to interfere with my captive.”
“I’d never dream of it… Your Grace . ”
I scowled. Erynna cleared her throat, and this time her words were gentle. Calm, even. “We can teach her about the Veridian Union’s treaty that protects us, should we make this journey unannounced. I can help you, Aster. I spent months in Avendatis after our trials.”
Chewing on my cheek, I sighed. I needed Morgana to learn how to use her magic so I could determine if she too was plagued by this curse. And, if not—which, gods, I hoped she was not—then I could understand what made one immune. If immunity was possible, then the mirror didn’t matter. All the lords who bartered and purchased artifacts from pirates and merchants who made a living off Vespera’s shores mattered not. I’d have a cure. My bloodline would have a cure.
“Think about it, cousin. Your sister has a point if you refuse to acknowledge mine.”
“She has experience getting information in very similar ways as me,” Erynna said with a curled smile. “Use it. It is a risk, but she has the capabilities to help you. Does she not?”
I pressed my flat palms against the table and sighed. Avendatis was our neighbor, but their lands used to be ours. War divided us generations ago, and though we existed within the same union, blood had ruined our alliance. They didn’t trust us, and I didn’t trust them. But they had to help us.
My bloodline and birthright depended on it.
I mulled over the suggestions presented by the council, each word a lash on my sanity. Atlas’s smug grin gnawed at my patience, but Erynna’s subtle support was a lifeline in the sea of political machinations. Utilizing Morgana’s potential was a gamble, but one worth taking if it meant unlocking the secrets of her unique abilities.
With a final glance at the faces around the table, I straightened my posture and addressed them all. “We will prepare Morgana for the journey to Avendatis. Princess Erynna will accompany us to help train her during our journey. Archmage Oren, please try to reason with King Lucif once more before we cross into his domain unannounced.”
Archmage Oren bowed his head, and Lord Chancellor Wylliam stood. We silently departed from the council room, but I could feel Atlas’s eyes burning the back of my head. I loathed him, but he was in the line of succession. An active member of it, despite my better attempt at distancing him further.
He was not next in line, but he was a danger nonetheless.
I had no doubts he would kill for this crown.
So would I.