Chapter 18
Nadiette
King’s Council
The low kings sit around the table. The head chair, as old as this kingdom and empty as it should never be, draws my eyes.
I can’t deny that it feels wrong to meet here without Ikar.
I begin to fist a hand in the fabric of my white jacket, but I catch myself and force myself to relax.
I ignore the pang of guilt about my part in this council and promptly remind myself that if not for my intervention, there would have already been mutiny in Ikar’s absence.
The low kings are antsy. I can feel it. Their eyes shift between each other, their shoulders taut—unrest thrums in the room. Well, except for Drade. He slouches in his chair as if this is the last place he cares to be. I purse my lips, irritated by his uncaring attitude.
Waylon eyes the empty head seat with a hint of calculation before he turns his attention to the others.
“I have called us together to discuss our high king’s decision to pursue marriage and bridging with a Queen of the Night.
It has been made known to me that our dear king is, at this very moment, scouring the Lucent Mountains in search of a flower.
We are all in agreement that his mission is reckless, that it puts our kingdom in danger?
” His gaze sweeps the table, waiting for nods of agreement.
Then he turns his eyes to me. “Nadiette, any progress regarding marriage before he left?”
I’m annoyed he asks. If Ikar left to find a blazing flower, then it’s easy to assume things didn’t go well.
Adrian’s chin is already dipping in a steady bob, soon to rest on his chest. Drade is unreadable and relaxed, as usual, but I can tell by the awareness in his dark eyes that he observes the proceedings closely.
“I have not been able to gain an answer from King Ikar thus far,” I say, keeping my chin high and clasping my hands confidently on the table before me while trying to forget about our last conversation. “But I believe with time and continued effort on my part he will agree to marriage.”
There’s a prolonged silence.
Rhomi shifts uncomfortably in his chair before finally speaking up. “How long should we wait before acting?” He asks no one in particular, but his eyes meet mine with question.
I answer with all the confidence I’ve ever portrayed as being the kingdom’s highest originator. “It won’t be long. As soon as he returns, I’ll speak with him. I’m sure I can change his mind.”
Waylon shakes his head. “We’ve waited long enough, my dear. You have three weeks to marry, and no longer.”
My clasped hands tighten around each other on the table. “That’s hardly enough time. He’s away again, as you well know.”
“I don’t disagree, but while we’ve been waiting, our dear king is gallivanting about the kingdom in search of a Queen of the Night, endangering our entire kingdom, and you dare ask us for more time?” He raises his brows in question.
I clench my teeth, but say nothing.
“Three weeks.”
I nod, ignoring the silent stares of the other kings around the table.
Jethonan slides a parchment from one stack to the other with a heavy sigh. “I must say, I look forward to the day our king returns.” He frowns at the remaining stack of parchment waiting for attention.
I stare out the window, thinking, and only slightly aware that he watches to see if I’m listening. He slides a new parchment before him and begins to read, preparing to sign his name at the bottom, when I suddenly speak.
“I’ve just returned from the King’s Council. This fool mission may irreparably damage our kingdom.” Anger seeps into my tone. I can’t help but blame Jethonan for his part in all of this.
Jethonan raises his head, curious. “Why do you say that?”
Everything seems to be going well in Ikar’s absence— the gloam as awful as ever, but the ins and outs of the kingdom running as they should under Jethonan’s direction.
Nothing the other kings should be concerned about.
In all, the high king had only been away for a few weeks, and Jethonan had handled all of this easily many times.
He narrows his eyes as he thinks about what I’ve said.
“The low kings are not happy that Ikar is set on bridging with a Tulip,” I say with spite.
Jethonan leans back, frowning. “So you told them—behind his back, I might add.”
I spin toward him, triggered by the judgment in his voice. “He presented his idea himself. I merely gave an update. I had to, though it should have been him, if he was acting responsibly.”
Jethonan purses his lips and nods. “It’s apparent you have no trust in your king.”
I jerk as if he slapped me, my face as red as if he had. “No, I don’t trust you. This is your fault. You’re the one who planted all the ideas and sent him away.” I point an accusing finger at him. “You’re the one who made him leave me.”
He simply shakes his head. “No, Nadiette. You know Ikar. He never allows anyone to make him do anything.” He readjusts the paper on the desk, making the angles straight before continuing. “I urge you to stop this. For the kingdom. For Ikar.”
I scoff. “It’s out of my hands now. The only way I can stop it is by marrying him in three weeks. I was able to convince the low kings to agree to that, to keep the peace. Otherwise, they’d be on their way here now.”
Jethonan considers me for a moment, the youth of his face belied by the wisdom and age in his eyes. “This is the first I’ve seen you act the enemy, my lady. It doesn’t appear to be a good fit for you.”
My cheeks flame before I turn and leave the room, slamming the door behind me.