Chapter 10
Morgana
“Tonight is the night, Your Highness.”
Captain Odaire, a tall fae with dark brown skin, delivers the news in a neutral voice, but we all know how important his words are.
I exchange a look with Tira, then turn to the others to read their reactions.
The soldiers look eager, poised for action.
But Fairon seems less excited, more braced—like he’s facing an unpleasant task he’s resigned to seeing through.
“You’re sure there’ll be enough witnesses?” he asks.
Captain Odaire gives a sharp nod. “He’s dining with several senior members of court tonight—Duchess Serth with be there, and Lord Wain, as well as the usuals.”
I’ve been told Odaire and Fairon were childhood friends, and I can see it—both seem like they would be serious children.
Most of the fae who will be helping us this evening have known Fairon a long time.
It was nerve-racking watching Leon and Fairon select strong fae fighters to let into the inner circle.
One wrong choice and this whole plan could come crashing down around us.
I just thank the gods for Alastor and his ability to test their loyalty before we revealed what we were asking them to do.
“In which case, get word to the others,” Fairon says. “We’ll meet in the south gallery after they’ve served the first course. There’ll be fewer servants around then.”
Captain Odaire salutes Fairon and exits the crown prince’s quarters.
“It’s a lovely day for a coup,” Alastor murmurs.
I call to Leon across the bond. “You’re as tense as a coiled spring, my love. Is there anything I can do to help?”
His serious expression morphs into a smirk. “Yes, you can come with me back to our room and help me work some of that tension off.”
I raise my eyebrows at him, and his smirk widens to a grin, but I know his flirting is him trying to distract himself from what lies ahead.
After our conversation in the grounds, Leon and Fairon both agreed—Respen has to go.
The question was how they were going to do it. Leon wanted to confront Respen alone. It would be easier to overpower him that way. But Fairon had wisely pointed out what they really needed was high-profile fae to vouch for their actions.
Fairon is the rightful heir. He’s been trained for this role and is trusted and respected at court, despite his absence these last two years.
So if Respen is proven unsuitable for power, there shouldn’t be much resistance to him taking the throne.
But that transfer of power is only going to be smooth if Leon and Fairon’s reasons for removing Respen are unquestionable.
“We can’t just assassinate him in the night,” Fairon had said. “That would lead directly to a challenge. The Oudis lords have been itching for a chance to claim the Claerwyns are unfit to rule. It has to be legitimate and aboveboard, or we’ll go the same way as the Faravals.”
“Who were the Faravals?” Tira had asked.
“The royal family who ruled before the Claerwyns,” Fairon replied. “They were all executed after they conspired to kill their own mother, the queen.”
“Yikes,” Tira said, and I could’ve sworn Fairon’s serious expression lightened for just a second.
“It happened three and a half thousand years ago,” Leon said. “But I get your point. We take him on in public.”
Now it’s two days later, and we have the go from Captain Odaire. The others file out, heading to their own quarters. Tira and I sit in Fairon’s rooms and watch the princes discuss—not for the first time—what Respen’s reaction might be.
Or rather, Fairon talks at Leon, running through every possible angle, as Leon listens more or less patiently.
“Gods, he’s such a control freak, isn’t he?” Tira murmurs to me. “A total over planner.”
Her tone is the same as always—sarcastic and playful—but when I glance her way, I see the small smile on her face, as if she secretly likes that about him.
Or at least, likes him in spite of it. I smile myself, realizing that despite the way she likes to poke fun at the crown prince, my friend might have developed a soft spot for him.
I suppose that’s natural, considering the pair have been co-conspirators these last few weeks, sharing their secrets only with each other.
“If everything goes to plan with the king, we’ll be leaving for Trova soon,” I say lightly. “Will you be okay coming back with us?”
Tira’s brow furrows. “Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I? Are you still worried about me being able to look out for myself? Because you know I can do that now. I’ve been practicing my archery every day, plus Fairon’s been showing me a few things too.”
I bet he has, I think to myself, but I don’t dare say it. I can tell Tira hasn’t even recognized her fondness for Fairon herself yet, so it must be very early days.
“I know you can,” I say. “Sorry, it was nothing.”
She continues to look at me, a little suspicious, but moves on.
“Where are we even going? Back to Tread? Harman will be glad to see you—and Alastor,” she adds with a smirk. By now, I’ve filled her in plenty on the pair’s relationship.
“His letter came at a good time,” I say. The message Damia brought us confirmed the rebels had gotten safely out of Qimorna with minor losses. Likely because they’d accepted pretty soon after we left that there was no reaching the carriage of solari children.
It both was and wasn’t the news I’d hoped for, but the letter also detailed how we could send back a coded response from Filusia. “We sent a reply, telling him about Leon and what we suspect about Prince Keleus and Princess Helena.”
“Because you want to find the seal,” Tira says with understanding.
“Yes. Leon doesn’t think his parents would’ve risked hiding it in Filusia, and they already had this diplomatic mission to Trova.
It was the perfect cover. Harman was already looking into people who lived in the region where they were killed.
Leon thought they were taking some time to do a scenic tour of Trova after their diplomacy talks, but really they were taking a detour to hide the seal.
We just need to work out exactly where they were coming back from. ”
“Why are you sure they didn’t have the seal on them when they were attacked?” Tira frowns.
“Because you can’t come to harm as long as you’re carrying it. It protects travelers, so an attack on them wouldn’t have succeeded.”
“Assuming the legends about it are true,” Tira says doubtfully.
I shrug. “They were true enough about the scythe,” I point out. “Besides, if they’d been carrying it when they were killed, Respen would have it now, and you can bet he would’ve used it.”
“That idea is only slightly less terrifying than the idea of Caledon using it,” Tira grimaces.
“That’s why we have to find it before him,” I say firmly. “Luckily for us, it seems he has no idea Leon’s parents ever had it.”
It’s exhausting, keeping track of everything we have to do and everyone we have to stop, but I remind myself that we’re already so much better off than we were a few days ago when Leon was at death’s door.
We just have to keep moving forward. With the solari children—and I feel like weeping whenever I think about what he must’ve done to them—Caledon will be powerful enough to combine the artifacts if he can find them all. And Tira’s right, that’s terrifying.
Leon escapes Fairon at last, coming toward us.
“If we’re going up against my grandfather in a few hours, we should rest,” he says across the mooring.
“We?” I ask with a touch of surprise. “You’re not going to ignore all Fairon’s suggestions to let me help? I thought you’d argue I should stay behind where I’ll be safe.”
“Ugh,” Tira says with disgust. “You’re doing that telepathic thing again, aren’t you? It’s so sappy the way you stare into each other’s eyes.”
I elbow her in the ribs and stand. “Then we’ll go and be sappy elsewhere,” I say, grabbing Leon’s hand. “See you later.”
“There’s no point in asking you to stay back and keep yourself safe anymore,” Leon replies as we walk through the palace.
“Because you know I’ll say no,” I answer.
“Yes. But also, we’re tied together now. What’s dangerous for me is dangerous for you too. So if I’m going into a situation where I might die, I might as well have you at my side as I do it.”
He makes a fair point.
“Good, then maybe I can save both our lives…again,” I joke.
He smiles, but I see his eyes tighten and feel the flare of unease inside him. He doesn’t like thinking about what could happen.
“We can handle this,” I say, squeezing his hand.
“I know,” Leon says as we go to wait for the moment we’ll overthrow the king.
We arrive as one group. Protections on the king’s quarters can’t be breached except by someone with Claerwyn blood, and once we’re inside, Fairon’s sensic magic will be the key to sending any servants we might encounter in the opposite direction.
“Grandfather never leaves his room without a few members of security,” Leon explained to me a few hours ago. “His guards are trained to resist sensic magic, so we can’t just distract them into leaving their posts.”
Hence the retinue of backup coming with us—not just Leon’s soldiers but Odaire and Fairon’s allies. There’s fifteen of us in total. Enough to command the room for the few minutes Fairon needs. Once the accusation is out, Respen won’t be able to silence his heir without looking guilty.
I haven’t been to this part of the palace before, but it’s clear this wing is reserved for the king.
Everywhere is decorated with the bright, deadly flowers he grows with his terrial power.
They sit in window boxes and adorn tables in large plant pots.
It gives the air a heady, sickly sweet perfumed scent I can’t imagine anyone but the king himself enjoys.
My heart rate picks up when I start to hear the murmur of voices from the dining room, including Respen’s distinctive rasp.
Apprehension slides up my spine—not because of Respen’s sensic power but because of the king himself.
He may be old, but the fae king is by no means feeble, and I know we’re in for a fierce fight.
As we reach a set of tall doors, Fairon looks to Odaire on his right and Leon on his left. They exchange a nod, and then the doors fly open with a gust of Odaire’s aesteri magic.
For a moment, I imagine what we must look like to the people in the dining room: an armed gang descending upon them, headed up by the two dark-haired princes, and I decide I wouldn’t want to be Respen. Then my work begins.
There are three members of security. Two stationed to the left and right of the door and Velrir hovering beside the king, who’s seated at the head of the long dining table in the center of the room.
Our soldiers fan out, and I hit the two nearest security with my orbital magic, whipping their swords away before they can even draw them.
Velrir is smarter and sprints straight toward me. His blast of cold air hits me so hard it takes my breath away. I think my lungs might be freezing from the inside out, and I have to close my eyes to stop the stinging air needling at them.
Then, as quickly as it comes, the cold disappears.
I blink my eyes open to see that the soldiers have taken position, three of them on each of the guards. Except for Velrir. Leon has him pinned to the wall, a hand at his throat.
“Hurt her again, and I’ll take you apart piece by piece, Velrir,” Leon growls.
“What is going on?” comes a deep, sharp voice.
“Please sit down, Lord Wain,” Fairon says as he sweeps across the room to the head of the table.
“What is the meaning of this?” demands a fae lady with a raft of rubies hanging from her throat. The other dinner guests look similarly shocked, but there’s one person dining who doesn’t seem flustered at all.
Respen sits silently at the top of the table framed by a black, high-backed chair. His face is devastatingly calm.
“My apologies for the use of force, my lords and ladies,” Fairon says. “But I’m afraid we needed to protect ourselves.”
“Protect yourselves from what, for gods’ sakes?” Lord Wain splutters.
“From any attempt to silence the truth,” Fairon says, turning. “Lord Gyrion, if you’d please?”
Alastor steps forward.
“Most of you should be aware that Lord Gyrion here possesses a rare sensic ability: he can compel the truth from someone,” Fairon continues. “We’re here today to demand that His Majesty submits to questioning regarding crimes he has committed against the royal family.”
The ruby-wearing fae gasps, while a woman to her right grows pale despite her dark skin.
“Prince Fairon, are you…challenging the king?” she asks. She sounds more disturbed than angry.
“I am, yes,” Fairon says, to even more gasps. “But first, I’m giving him the opportunity to confess.”
All eyes turn to Respen, and it’s then I see a hint of the rage that possessed him in the sanctuary.
“You dare come here, ordering me to submit to this humiliation?” he says quietly, his voice quivering with fury. “I didn’t think you would stoop so low, Fairon.”
“Ask him, Alastor,” Leon orders as he shoves Velrir into Hyllus’s arms. The huge fae quickly envelops the smaller one in a grip Velrir clearly has no hope of escaping.
Alastor opens his mouth, the fizz of his magic filling the air.
“King Respen, what part did you play in the murders of your son and daught—”
“You think I’ll bow to the magic of this mewling whelp?” Respen’s voice climbs to a shout.
Abruptly, Alastor screams.
“No, get it off me, get it off me!”
The blond fae falls to the floor, writhing against the wood. Respen has invaded his mind, flooding it with a paranoia so intense Alastor’s lost all control over himself.
“Stop this, Grandfather,” Fairon orders, but Respen keeps his pale eyes coolly on Alastor as my friend’s shrieks rip at my ears.
“Get away!” Alastor sobs. He tears at his own clothes, gouging at his skin until his nails are bloody.
Leon charges toward Respen, blade drawn, but Fairon steps into his path, saying something about needing the king alive.
I don’t care about that right now. All I care about is the fact that Alastor is tearing himself apart, and no one’s stopping it.
Anger fills my veins with heat. I can sense it finding a new place inside me, called toward a dark, black space where a piece of soul used to be.
I feel the edge of the emptiness as my rage comes up against it, dancing along the brink of the abyss, and suddenly I am limitless.
Nothing needs to stand in my way, nothing needs to stop me.
I hurl my magic out toward Respen, burrowing deep within him until I find the celestial flame burning brightly at his center.
I start to choke it.