28 || The New High Table
"If I had known your High Table was this loose-lipped, I would have interrogated one of the members sooner," the Fireborn King mused.
A crown of gold sat atop his white hair, the same shade glistening across the rest of his attire in the form of cufflinks and other jewellery.
For the Kingdom of Vahan, Ilyana thought that the symbol for their ruler would present raging fires and greedy infernos.
Instead, a blazing star sat front and centre in the metal and swirls of magic were carved on either side.
"King Matthian, this is ludicrous!" Ilyana's father bellowed. "I did not invite you into my kingdom so you could terrorise my council." He paced towards the table, his fingers furling at his side.
"And I didn't accept it just to be trapped like an animal in a viewing cage. I took matters into my own hands, as I promised your daughter." He motioned to the princess who remained in the doorway.
"An agreement of which the forty-eight hours have not passed yet. There are still six more to go," Ilyana pointed out.
"Everyone seemed preoccupied with the events that happened in the library." King Matthian extinguished his flame with a twist of his wrist, sending embers sparking across Arc. "Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss."
"Of course." King Mortas straightened. "Thank you for keeping my seat warm for me."
Despite the obvious remark, the Fireborn made no move to get up.
"I don't feel I'm quite ready to leave this one yet.
Poor Arc here is holding onto dear life and it would be a shame if he was injured further.
Don't you think?" If the High Table member was burned any more, Ilyana wasn't sure if he would survive.
Her father bristled. "An awful shame." With a frown, he secured the seat next to Matthian, leaving his daughter to claim the next one along.
If it was any other day, Ilyana's magic would have screamed at her to heal Arc as she approached him.
Gods, it would be a deafening howl even from the doorway.
Wounds marred his skin like adorned fashion accessories and, while it made nausea rise in her throat, there was no tingling beneath her skin.
What was wrong with it? It was as if it was dormant in her veins.
The power was undoubtedly still there. It writhed in the distance of her mind just out of reach, yet it felt different.
Ever since she had tried to heal Viviana again and failed, feeling death pushing back against her, it was like something had latched onto it. Something blocked her magic's path.
"If this alliance is going to work, there cannot be any secrets between us. Especially ones that threaten the safety of others," the Fireborn began with a scathing tone.
Wyrith needed the alliance. While the island was prosperous, there was only so far their kingdom could get with a small amount of territory.
Vahan had trade routes, supplies, a larger army, and much more that they could benefit from.
They had no choice but to explain what was happening, at least on the same level that the High Table understood.
"Perhaps once we've explained the Necromancer's Curse, you can clarify a few things for us too," Ilyana suggested. "To set us off on equal footing."
Matthian arched a brow. "Of course. Whatever my potential bride wants to know, she will have." He lingered on his words, reminding them he held the power in this room. "Do start with these necromancers. I understand that they are this island's mortal enemy. Is that correct?"
"It is indeed," Mortas answered with a sigh. "Before our ancestors removed them for good, one of their twin queens set a curse upon Wyrith. Now that it has awoken, the wall around the island has appeared and we're actively working to take it down."
"And what do these plans entail?"
Her father caught Ilyana's eye before he continued.
"There are some sources that we are gathering information from.
We also discovered a necromancer living within the Lost Abyss — a section of the kingdom where our lawbreakers and anarchists are contained — and we hoped to bring her in for questioning.
However, she passed away before we could fulfil that. "
"You mean the woman whose body was stolen from the dungeons this afternoon?" Excitement glimmered in his gaze, as if he had set something alight only to watch it burn.
"What?" The princess turned to Mortas so fast that she wouldn't have been surprised if she had whiplash. "What do you mean stolen?"
The Fireborn shrugged. "Seems there are secrets even between family here. I overheard some guards talking about it before arriving here with this one." He nudged Arc with his foot.
"Yes, Morana The Cursed was stolen from the dungeons this afternoon." Her father refused to meet her tear-stricken stare. "We suspect it was lackeys sent from a man called Silas who captured it."
Her sister's body had been taken and her father hadn't even thought to tell her.
He would have been aware when he visited her rooms before the meeting, so he had decided to keep her in the dark.
Now, her sister was back with the man Ilyana feared had controlled her life instead of giving her a fair send-off like she hoped she could secure.
The princess needed to be strong in front of King Matthian.
No matter how much she wanted to yell and berate Mortas again.
He couldn't know that Morana The Cursed was Viviana — her twin sister.
Matthian was smart and any extra information could lead him to guess how the curse was activated.
Her life would be in danger. If he wanted to be free from the island so much, all he would have to do was kill her.
A shudder rippled through Ilyana's spine at the thought of meeting her end to fire. It would not be a pleasant way to go.
"Silas. Is this another person from the Lost Abyss?" He tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips in thought. "Keeping them all in one part of the island is a strange way to punish your criminals, if I may add."
"It was once a prison many a decade ago before it was overturned by its captives.
Silas was the one who organised the attack, rallying the prisoners together.
" A shadow was cast on King Mortas' face, a haunting nightmare from the past plaguing his memories.
"He runs the Lost Abyss now as his kingdom.
It's impossible for any of my guards to get in to form an arrest without one of them dying. "
"Interesting." The Fireborn hummed. "Is that still true with Morana The Cursed out of the picture?"
"She only died today," Ilyana replied, clearing her throat when her voice was much quieter than she would have hoped. "We haven't tried since then."
"Make sure to send your best next time," Matthian remarked.
"We were already planning another venture to capture Silas, thank you. What makes you think you can control my soldiers?"
"Mortas, can't you see? We are on the same side here.
" The princess didn't miss the lack of her father's title when he spoke.
"Since we both have the same goal and a member of your High Table is a little indisposed, I was thinking about settling in one of these seats for the foreseeable future.
Until this curse is dealt with, of course.
" He dragged his finger along the table where the map of Wyrith was engraved, scorch marks being left behind in its wake.
"There are several details that don't quite make sense still that we need to get to the bottom of and I couldn't think of anyone better for the job. "
"You may be an honourary guest but-"
"No, I will be an official member of your council. Unless you would like me to question a few more people for my missing information instead?" It was a taunting challenge — a dare to defy him to discover what would happen.
"The dungeons are always an option too, if that is what you would prefer," King Mortas accepted his defiance and met it with another. "Our kingdom can thrive well on its own without your assistance."
Matthian scoffed. "You think bars of steal could keep me contained?"
Ilyana watched as her father's composure snapped for a moment. An anger she had never seen before flickered through his eyes before it faded again and his temper calmed.
"It's a decision we will think about," she stepped in, giving him some extra moments to breathe.
"For now, there are other matters at hand.
You have your answer of what is really happening on the island and now it's my turn to receive information.
" Ilyana leaned forward blocking Arc from her view.
"The armour underneath your clothes, where did you get it from? "
The Fireborn looked down at himself and then back up in surprise.
"You have quite an eye for detail, princess.
This was a gift when I ascended the throne of Vahan from the previous royal family.
With no heirs of their own and me being the strongest Fireborn the kingdom has seen so far, they offered it to me. Both the country and the armour."
Matthian rolled up a sleeve so he could show it off.
Each silver piece had been woven and forged with care, every one shimmering with faint hues of magic.
While gaps presented themselves between the metal, it was clear that no blade would pierce through them.
Clove was right. It looked exactly like the one in her storybook.
"It's a stunning design, isn't it?" he carried on. "The craftsmanship is impeccable. One could even say this chainmail looks like a Dragon's scales."
The king had to be aware of the story and knew that was why she brought up the topic. There was no other reason he would have phrased his words like that.
"It really does," she agreed. "Is there a reason why you wear it under your clothes?
Forgive me if this sounds a little crude, but would it not be more efficient to wear it over the top?
It's not like it's woven into your skin, right?
" Ilyana would play along with his game.
She was prepared for the spinning waltz he would lurch them into and she was willing to learn the steps.
Sliding his hand underneath the scales on his arm, he assured her it was very much separate from his body. "How better to surprise your enemies than keeping it hidden? Is that all you need to know?"
"It is, for now."
It still didn't sit right with Ilyana. The situation stirred doubt into the cauldron of her stomach. He was attempting to writhe his way into a seat at the High Table just like how the story had proclaimed the king wanted to conquer everything he could claim for himself.
Perhaps it was nothing. Maybe Clove's words were getting trapped in her mind. She was wrong to trust her once and she would be foolish to do so again.
"We can have an extra seat arranged for our next meeting so you can join us," her father announced. "That is as much as I can offer you without a discussion with the High Table."
"There's no need for that," Matthian insisted. "Arc won't be joining us for a small while, so I shall take his until he returns."
If he did return.
While the man had been awake when they had entered, he seemed very still while their discussion had taken place.
The Fireborn stood from his chair, pushing it towards the wall. Without the support at his back, Arc fell, letting the king step over him with ease. "I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning for a meeting with the rest of the High Table."