Chapter Two #3
But, according to his auntie, he couldn’t hide from that possible future any longer.
Too much in the present was at stake. “I’m certain you’ve already made a list of reputable ladies from cardinal bloodlines who will be suitable for me to marry and whom you personally approve of,” Malachi stated.
He surprised his own self with how agreeable it came out. “Let’s hear their names.”
Nychelle beamed. She pulled a slip of parchment from a pocket of her robe. “I’ve already recorded them for you. Here are the suggested brides that I believe will be as beloved a queen as your mother was.” She held the folded piece of thick cream paper out to Malachi.
“When should I make my selection by and how long do I have before a wedding needs to take place?” he asked after he took it.
“It’d be best if you marry within two lunar cycles,” she answered staidly. “That gives you one cycle to select a bride and one to court her properly, as is befitting a woman who will become our Apollyon queen.”
Malachi nodded and unfolded the list. He read the names, all of which he recognized—and some of whom he’d already taken to bed.
He’d known that he’d never marry in a love match.
As king, he had a greater duty. But he’d hoped, at least, to come across a woman he could choose for a wife and be intrigued on some level with her beyond the bedroom.
He rescanned the list. Nope. There was not a one that fit that desire.
There were a few who were terrific—exquisite—at the act that would be required to produce an heir.
But even he had to admit that was a reprehensible criterion to use solely to select a wife.
Especially a wife who would reign as queen of their folk.
Great Celestials above, his head suddenly throbbed; he was irritated with this business already.
He handed Nychelle the list back. “Pick whoever you conclude is best and reach out to my future bride and her family to negotiate the betrothal and marriage contracts. Let me know when it’s time for me to do the courting thing. ”
“You cannot be serious.” As per usual, Trystin was offering an opinion Malachi hadn’t asked for. “That sounds like a disaster in the making.”
“I’m quite serious,” Malachi said. “I trust Auntie’s judgment regarding who will be best as co-ruler of our court.” As for anything else, he’d be miserable either way. Truly, what did it matter if he had a hand in choosing his queen or not?
“As you wish.” Malachi heard the disapproval in Nychelle’s tone, but she wasn’t about to argue with him when she’d finally gotten what she wanted.
“Since we’re having this impromptu family meeting, I have something to place on the agenda for discussion,” he said to his auntie and cousin who, along with his Cadre, acted as his sole inner council.
Given his nobles’ low estimation of him, Malachi didn’t trust anyone else at court to get so close.
His auntie might be resistant to what he’d reveal at first, but since Malachi had just bent for her, this was the perfect time to bring it up and get a little give and take.
“I plan to assassinate the Hyperion king, the Aether king, their kinsfolk, and high-ranking nobles tomorrow at the Hyperion king’s wedding to the Aether Court’s archprincess.”
Trystin stared at him, clearly unsure what to say, while his auntie just as clearly knew exactly what she wanted to say.
“I’ve already sent a scouting party ahead,” he said, cutting off what he guessed would be Nychelle’s first argument against it.
“I’m taking my Cadre, and we’ll get it done.
This isn’t a hasty attack. I have been meticulously planning this strike for months.
More, this isn’t simply about revenge. This is about securing our court’s sovereignty.
The high clerics of the Six Kingdoms peddle their own bloody, pain-in-the-ass prophecies, and while I don’t believe in the damn things, I also won’t take any chances.
If the Hyperion king marries the Aether archprincess, it’ll only galvanize the Cleric’s Rebellion to once again try to lay the Apollyon Court at the feet of an outsider king. ”
Auntie Nychelle held up a hand. “I know of Rishaud and the fanaticism he uses to sway the idiots within this court and those on the other side of the Yunna Mountains. My question to you, nephew,” she asked in a measured fashion that meant she was weighing how furious to be, “is why am I only now hearing of this plan of yours?”
“Because I knew you’d try to talk me out of it,” Malachi answered truthfully.
And the woman had enough of his affection that she was successful at just about anything where he was concerned when she truly set her mind to it.
This, he hadn’t wanted to be convinced to not attempt.
He’d held off on this strike at the heart of the Six Kingdoms for nearly twenty years.
Even as a boy, he’d wanted to rend the Six Kingdoms apart for their hand in murdering his parents. It was beyond time.
“Yes, it incites a war,” Malachi said, heading off Nychelle’s likely second counterpoint.
“But war will come soon anyway if that wedding is allowed to occur. And as you said, you know me. This will be a war I can win if it comes now or later. So what does an expedited timeline matter? I’m not the king my father was, nor is the Apollyon Court the weak shell of itself it was two decades ago that allowed our royals to be assassinated.
” That last part was a direct compliment to his auntie.
One of the reasons Malachi adored and trusted Nychelle implicitly was because the woman was shrewd, forward-thinking, and fierce.
She’d single-handedly held the nobles’ fears in check so they wouldn’t do something stupid like bow to the Six Kingdoms or that damnable false prophecy after his father was murdered.
And she’d done so by guiding the court into a golden age of economic prosperity and military strength.
She’d done half the job required to secure the eternal protection of their court and avenge her sister and brother-in-law.
Now that she’d handed Malachi the throne, he’d do the rest to continue proving the old cleric a liar.
Malachi wouldn’t ruin the Apollyon Court; rather, he’d decimate their enemies and extend their golden age into one that was free of external threats, the looming possibility of all-out war, and the constant skirmishes that claimed precious Apollyon lives.
He expressed the rest of this thinking to Nychelle before she could get worked up.
Still, he expected her to lend some counterargument as to why it wasn’t a good idea.
His auntie tended to lean toward the diplomatic, peaceful approach in most things if it was at all possible.
However, Nychelle simply asked, “Are you sure of this course, nephew?”
“I am,” Malachi answered immovably.
She leveled a hard gaze on him. “You are king of the Apollyon fae, and I am no longer queen regent, so this is your decision. But be clear, nephew: You had better return to me in one piece. Understood? And be prepared for the backlash should you not be successful, for it will be more brutal and greater than if you are.”
Malachi chuckled. “Nothing will harm me, and I won’t be anything except victorious,” he promised Nychelle.
She inclined her head toward the dressing room that was through a door to the right beside the bathing room. “Go get dressed. Then tell me of these plans in detail, and I’ll advise if there’s any chinks.”
“I don’t enjoy being given such short notice to work my juju,” Trystin drawled, “but I’ll lend my expertise about what spellwork might best help accomplish what you’ve concocted, which I’m sure amounts to barreling into that wedding and committing slaughter on sight.”
Malachi rolled his eyes—as nuanced as his plan was, it did pretty much amount to that—but simply said, “Thank you, cousin. I appreciate it.”
Trystin nodded. “I don’t doubt that you’ll be successful, but I think Ma is wrong.
A victory doesn’t lessen the blowback. If you massacre two kings and their courts, the remaining four courts will come for ours in force.
Taking the Hyperion and Aether kings out of the equation doesn’t lessen the threat of the Wind, Stone, Water, and Fire Courts, which are all mighty in their own right.
Yes, Ma has greatly strengthened our court, but we’ll be fighting four against one.
” Trystin swept a gaze between Malachi and Nychelle.
“But you two know that as much as I do. What am I not seeing that you both clearly are?”
“It’s a good assessment, son,” Nychelle said. “But you’re overestimating how much esteem these courts hold for Rishaud. So the idea that they’d unite is true, but for how long?” she asked, now grinning like a demoness.
Malachi grinned as well. Of course Nychelle understood that which he hadn’t spoken.
She was a practical woman, but also cunning and calculating.
He’d learned everything he now was from his auntie.
“Even if they do work together for a time, the remaining four courts won’t be allowed to wage a retaliatory war for long,” Malachi said to Trystin. “Their economies won’t tolerate it.”
“What do you mean?”
“With the Hyperion king and his chokehold on the other kings gone, the southern kingdoms will be in chaos. Without a central ruler, any prosperity they might have will be fleeting as they try to navigate major upheaval.” Malachi grinned again, even fiercer.
“But what we’ll offer is a solution to that anarchy, a plug to that power vacuum left in the wake of Rishaud’s death.
Someone who has demonstrated the power to get things done, and the strength to bring an entire continent to heel. ”
“You mean—”
“Yes, son,” Nychelle said. “Malachi will be the high king.”