Chapter 37 Bahira
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Bahira
I am starting to hate the fucking scent of blood.
Staring at the glass jars lined up in front of me, I fight the urge to throw them against the wall.
To watch the glass shatter as assuredly as my sanity has.
Leaning back against the counter in my workshop, I cross one ankle over the other and place my hands over my eyes.
A noise entirely born of frustration rumbles in my throat before I slide my hands down my face and let them fall to my sides.
Starla and I conducted another set of experiments.
One that was supposed to serve as a control for future tests, but now…
My eyes flick to the jar of completely decayed leaves that is flanked by two more containers.
The left is blooming with life, the blood droplets rust-colored on the large bright green leaves that have grown from a brand-new stem.
The right also contains the same coloring though it isn’t as fully flourished.
Looking at these jars is confirmation of all the data I’ve managed to gather in the past few months when it comes to the relationship of blood and magic.
Everything excluding what Tua had alluded to with Kai’s father and his mother.
But I can’t correlate the evidence presented to me with anything other than a recognition of the truth: My blood does not contain magic.
With the jar at the left containing my father’s blood and the one on the right containing Starla’s, the decay of the one at the center holding my blood is all the more evidence of that truth.
Despite my morose mood, I almost let a smirk slip at the thought of my newest young aide.
She had gathered the leaves for my experiments and watched as I cut my palm just enough to let some blood drop into one of the jars.
When she then held her own hand out, palm up and waiting for me, I scoffed and shook my head.
“Absolutely not.” I should have realized that Starla, a girl cut from the same cloth as myself, would have seen it as a challenge before proceeding to grab the knife from the table after I cleaned it and cutting her palm herself.
I had wanted to growl at her, but before something angry ever made it past my lips, I took notice of the look on her face.
The way she wore her pride on the surface.
She had just wanted to help. Though I did make sure she knew that, going forward, disobeying my orders would result in her spending the day dress shopping with the girls from her orphanage.
As far as threats go, that one seems to be the most effective.
Focusing back on the glass in front of me, I release a breath and reach for the middle jar, dumping its contents and setting it in the sink.
I do the same with the others, knowing that based on the results of the Shifter Kingdom experiment, I no longer need to watch for further reaction.
Eventually, the plants will get what they can from the blood—or the magic within the blood—and then they too will decay.
Once I’ve cleaned, I take a seat in front of my desk, recalling what I know of magic in general and how I reconcile that with my suspicions about the Spell.
I had gone to Councilman Arav requesting his help choosing two scouts to collect data about the declining magic from some of the border towns along the Spell.
It had been a risk, of course, entrusting him with any information, but I know that Arav loves his people.
That he always has their best interests at heart and really, I had been working on the issue of our magic well before anything happened between Kai and I.
Despite the way frustration nips at my heels, so does a small amount of excitement.
Finding answers to unknowns has always been my favorite way to work my mind.
It’s only been in recent years—as the stakes grew impossibly higher—that I’ve allowed uncertainty to chip away at my confidence.
If I truly don’t have magic, if it’s nowhere to be found within me, then my mind is the only power I hold.
And, fucking gods, do I want to be the one to solve this.
Reaching into a desk drawer, I open the journal that I keep my notes in, flipping through to the pages with the graph of declining magic throughout the kingdom.
From the earliest records I read to the more recent ones, I study how the dots are imposed on the graph.
Looking at the trending line and the way the cities closest to the Spell had their oldest mages losing their magic completely, it can’t just be a random coincidence.
I lean back in the wooden chair. The Spell was put into place by the queen of Void Magic, and she sacrificed her life in order to do it.
Since her death, no queen of Void Magic has been found.
Could the Spell be why? All magic has a cost—a price to pay for its sustained use.
I can only imagine what that price would be to sustain the Spell for over two hundred years.
Except, I don’t have to imagine.
“Shit,” I whisper, looking back down at the journal.
What could sustain the magic of the Spell for so long?
The magic of everyone else on this continent.
The cost of keeping the kingdoms separated, of the magic being wielded for so long—even if its wielder is no longer alive—would be astronomical. And it is.
If Void Magic is powerful enough to change an entire continent, what would it need to sustain itself? The magic of all peoples seems like a damn good theory.
I can’t believe I haven’t punched Councilman Arav yet.
After leaving my workshop, I spend my walk home lost in thought. When I reach the palace, I pass a collection of guards stationed at its entrance. More fill the foyer, and it isn’t until I register the heavy silence in the air that I focus my attention on them.
And the way they are staring at me.
“Princess Bahira,” one of them says, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword strapped at his waist. He steps forward, the others fanning out on either side.
“Yes?” I drawl out, taking a small step back.
“You’ve been summoned to the council room.
Your parents are already there.” The guards on either side part, creating a gap for me to go through.
A breath catches in my throat, my eyes dipping to the guard’s light hold on his weapon.
Deep within me, anger stirs like kindling to a flame.
I force my feet to move, my steps loud as I walk past him.
I expect that to be it, but the guard turns and follows me, the others falling in behind him.
Fucking gods. Clenching my jaw, I keep my chin parallel to the ground and my shoulders rolled back, intent on letting that fire loose on the ones waiting just past the council doors.
Cass stands guard there, his light blue eyes meeting mine as I near.
He offers me one quick glance, enough to relay his concern, before his face returns to a stoic mask.
I slip behind my own shields, not allowing room for fear as I enter.
I see my mother’s face first, tight lines bracketing the corners of her mouth when she looks at me.
Concern shines in her gray eyes, tired circles marking the skin beneath them.
My gaze naturally goes to the head of the table, expecting to see my father ready to command the room.
But my heart skips a beat when, instead, I meet the indignant gaze of Daje’s father.
Despite the glare he gives me, his posture is relaxed.
His hands are in front of him, fingers interlaced as if this spot at the table is more comfortable than even he anticipated.
I narrow my eyes, jaw locked as I run my gaze over the rest of the council members.
A few have the humility to at least look shocked, while others obtain that nearly smug intolerance that twists Kallin’s face.
Hadrik, my father’s oldest friend, is the only one who looks outright horrified, his head resting in his hand and ruffling his salt and pepper hair.
“Bahira, thank you for joining us,” Councilman Kallin says, gesturing to the empty seat between my parents. My father sits one seat removed from Kallin’s right, Councilman Borris filling in the gap.
“Seems I did not have much of a choice, as you ensured our own guards escorted me here,” I say, no shortage of anger coloring my words.
“Well, seeing as one Daxel sibling has proven to be a flight risk, I figured it was smart to ensure the other isn’t given the opportunity to be one under the circumstances as well.”
My nails dig into the edge of the table, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of snapping.
“Cassius, close the door, please,” Kallin commands.
“And make sure that no one enters until I declare this session ended.” My friend doesn’t respond, but I hear the creaking of the hinges as he follows Kallin’s command.
Yet, just before the door shuts, a voice in the hall shouts Cass’s name.
I turn in my chair as the door swings back open.
It isn’t Nox that walks through, but who does still sends the air rushing from my mouth. “Son, what are you doing here?”
Daje’s chest heaves as he uses his sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow, his clothing stained from grass as if he sprinted from the training grounds. “You tried to have this meeting without me,” he says around an exaggerated inhale.
His father doesn’t deny it, instead leaning his elbows on the table as he looks at him. “Your presence is not necessary.”
“Says you,” Daje snarls as he rounds the table, taking the empty seat of the still sick Councilwoman Mora. The tension in the room takes a razor-sharp edge as Daje slams down into his chair, his gaze stuck firmly on his father’s.
“This is a council issue,” Councilman Osiris says, his face already taking on a red hue. “You have no right—”
“He does, actually,” Hadrik interrupts, his shrewd gaze on his fellow councilman. “The inquisition you intend to conduct upon our royal family permits anyone to attend as a character reference, as long as they have a close relationship with the accused.”
The words “inquisition” and “accused” scrape against my skin like a rusty blade, the rawness making a breath hiss through my teeth. But Daje seems to calm at Hadrik’s explanation, giving the table a curt nod of his head. “That is why I am here. Much, it seems, to my father’s dismay.”
Kallin laughs, the sound rougher than if it were an outright growl. “Hardly. I have nothing but the utmost respect for our royal family. I just question if having you volunteer as a character reference is a wise choice. Considering your history with the princess.”
A few snickers bounce around the table, igniting my fury as I snap my head towards Kallin. “Excuse me—”
“There is no history between us,” Daje interrupts.
I don’t turn to look at him, especially not at the way his tone carries that statement.
Something a little sharper than resignation.
“We were friends and nothing beyond that. But I have been in the Daxel family’s life for the entirety of mine.
I believe my opinion has weight and should be considered in whatever it is you’re about to accuse them of. ”
“Fine,” Kallin finally concedes. He reaches for a stack of papers, orange magic glowing from his hands as he sends them to every seat.
I pick it up, beginning to read as he continues.
“The purpose of today’s meeting is to discuss the risks to the kingdom’s safety that the current ruling family has imposed.
The most recent infractions include sharing secrets with another kingdom, an act of treason committed by Princess Bahira Daxel, and the willful defiance by Prince Nox, who has now left despite being ordered to remain within our borders while recovering. ”
My hand tightens around the paper, crinkling it as my gaze flicks up to meet the councilman’s.
“Let us begin.”