Chapter 16

DECEMBER 1945

“How long has he been in power?” Maeve asked her father as she stared at the chessboard between them.

“Since the Senshi Rebellion, after Reeve’s father handled the Shadow War, and the deterioration of their society post-war, in popular opinion, poorly.”

“Does he have any children of his own yet?”

Ambrose shook his head.

“But when he does, will they rule when he dies?”

“No,” said Ambrose. “His Inheritor will rule after him. The next to gain the power of Aterna is a matter of fate. And always one of cruel fate.”

“But you used the word ‘rebellion’?” She asked, moving a piece.

Ambrose studied the board for a moment and then spoke.

“Reeve’s father did not give his power to his son willingly, despite Reeve being his ordained Inheritor. Reeve was forced to take it from the maddened King.”

“King?”

“Reeve is the first High Lord of Aterna. I am told he refused the title of King after his father wore the crown.”

“And you were also told he was forced to take it? How do you know he didn’t steal it for selfish purposes?”

Ambrose sighed. “If you are set on hating him, I cannot make you see him how I do.”

“And why should I see him like you do?” She asked casually, trying to hold a poker face at the terrible move she just made.

“Because I have known this man my entire life, Maeve. I trust him explicitly.”

“I would argue that’s foolish.”

Ambrose smiled. “There are those you trust explicitly, are there not?”

Maeve sighed. “Yes.”

Ambrose’s eyebrows flicked up in victory

“So his Inheritor gets all the Magic of Aterna, that dragon form, power and all?”

“Not exactly,” said Ambrose. “Power of Aterna, yes. Reeve holds the Magic of hundreds of thousands of Immortals. But the curse on him that creates that beast of a dragon was not inherited.”

Maeve stilled and looked up at her father.

“Curse?”

Ambrose smiled. “I don’t think that’s my story to tell.”

“Oh,” whined Maeve. “Just when things were getting good.”

Ambrose laughed softly. “Ask him about it if you want.”

Maeve shook her head slowly. “I don’t think he cares for me much.”

Ambrose moved his piece. “Sometimes the best political partnerships are built upon differences.”

Maeve scrunched her face like she didn’t believe that. “Why didn’t you sit down and talk to Kietel then?”

“I did. Twice.”

Maeve’s hand froze on her chess piece, and she looked up at him.

Ambrose leaned back in his chair. “Of course I did. I tried for peace. I tried to see his side, and tried to get him to see mine. I hoped we could come to a common ground.”

“Obviously that didn’t work.”

“No,” said Ambrose. “In that instance, Kietel would not budge. He was a strange man. So much power. A clear plan for the Magical’s dominant future on Earth. And yet, he did not see Mal coming. He did not foresee the consequences of taking you.”

Maeve looked down at the board.

“He allowed me to write you that letter, you know?”

“What?”

“The letter I managed to get to Rowan before the bombs were dropped and Vaukore nearly fell. He told me a great secret I don’t believe he meant to. He was very knowledgeable on ancient Magic and the seven realms. How all seven realms were connected, and even you, all the way on Vaukore Island, would be able to feel what he was about to do with those bombs. It was the second dropping that enabled him to do so much damage to Vaukore.” Ambrose checked her King, and said. “And so, you never know what value can come from a simple conversation with your enemy.”

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.