Chapter Sixteen #2
“Ganus, Eloric, the council floor is open to you,” Rowen says as he folds his hands in his lap.
Eloric inhales deeply, meeting Rowen’s steady gaze with an icy glare of his own.
“No member of the High Council is exempt from the duty of upholding their oath. It is our promise to protect our people and our fae nations. Your choices and actions have proven you are no longer fit to preside over Vis.”
“I am ready and willing to take accountability,” Rowen replies with unsurprising dignity. “Yet my request to preserve my daughter has been largely ignored.”
As it had a week ago, Rowen’s desire to safeguard his daughter sits heavy upon my chest. Rowen may not be perfect, but through his daughter, it’s easy to see his heart lies in the right place.
Eloric smiles, a cold, unfeeling gesture. “Had you not chosen to use your daughter as a conduit to exert Netharis’ will, her Fate would not hang with yours.”
I glance at Ryc, my brows furrowing and his jaw sets tight.
Is this the connection he referred to?
How in the hells could Rowen impose Netharis’ plans through Tanila?
“Princess Tanila, please take the seat beside your father,” another deep male voice encourages with surprising softness. “We’ve a few questions to ask.”
It’s a familiar voice and tone, one that pulls a memory from my last meeting with this council.
“If we fight for you, will you take the High Throne?” Russet skin, violet eyes, and dark hair surface along with the words.
That is Ganus.
I lock myself against swiveling in my seat.
Tanila, sitting in the smaller throne to the left of Rowen’s, hesitates as she rises. The calm expression upon her face lies betrayed by the concern in her eyes as she turns to her father. He gives her a silent, resigned nod and she descends, claiming the empty seat beside him.
“We’ve all been used as pawns in a game designed by the gods,” Eloric says, meeting several stares throughout the room. “Rowen has served as Netharis’ mouthpiece whether or not he realizes it. We believe we’re able to prove such.”
My stomach sinks into the depths of the hells.
For smoke and mirrors, this isn’t feeling like a feint.
Eloric speaks with conviction. He truly believes whatever it is Ganus has strung together is nothing short of absolute truth. Until they reveal more, I’ve no means to argue—or defend.
“Tanila, did you hide knowledge from the council regarding your father’s contract?” Ganus’ launch into questioning leaves no time for breath.
Silence grows.
Only to be shattered by her sigh. “Yes.”
“Truth,” Eloric states, his stare fixed upon the princess.
Fenryn swings right, leaning across the empty seat toward Darin. Whatever it is he says, it’s too low for even my ears.
“How long have you hidden this knowledge?” Ganus asks.
More silence.
My fingers curl into Ryc’s and tighten.
“A century,” she replies, lowering her gaze to her lap.
Eloric peers left and nods.
Another truth.
How can she lie in the presence of a truthteller?
She can’t.
And the questions aren’t leaving enough room for the infamous fae wordsmithing to take flight. I do not envy her position.
Rowen being contracted for a century is nothing more than minutes to a god.
Netharis plots and moves in longer strokes—I’ve witnessed him sacrifice the skirmish of an immediate battle waiting for the decimation of a pending war.
Lesser, more impatient demons would be inclined to give into their demonic urges and take the spoils within easy reach.
Not Netharis.
Whatever my father’s plans for the Sovereign King of Vis, they were left incomplete. The living realm is better for it.
Regardless, the duration doesn’t alter the damning truth Tanila hid what she knew. In that she is guilty. Though honestly, were I in her position, I might have done the same.
“At no time did you feel the weight of your duty to alert this council to the nature of your father’s choices?” Ganus asks, his tone firmer.
“I would have,” she replies, the confidence in her tone resounding. “Had he changed. He did not. Over the last century, he’s remained in possession of his mind. He stands by his people. He’s—”
“I’ve no further questions for you, Tanila,” Ganus interjects, his voice cold and sharp. “The council has heard what it needs to.”
Yes, she’s laid her guilt bare.
He’s not interested in giving her a chance to explain or rationalize.
Her being included in the proposal for Rowen’s removal is rooted in her inability to turn on her father.
“I would like to remind the council of the timing of Rowen’s proposal for the union between Erus and Vis,” Ganus says and I shift, meeting Ryc’s stare. “Eight weeks prior to the tragedy that drew us to Ollora.”
The proposal was made eight weeks prior to the eclipse?
Ryc and Tanila’s engagement was new?
For some unknown reason, I believed it to be long set—something agreed upon long before I came into the realm.
My mind whirls, racing to piece together the timeline.
Eight weeks prior to the eclipse falls roughly around the time of Celesta’s ascension celebration at the temple—the night I was pulled through the veil.
“When Rowen made the proposal for Alaryc and Tanila’s union, we questioned why Alaryc had yet to find his mate,” Ganus proceeds and in the corner of my eye, a violet clad leg swings over the other.
“But it was Rowen who asked a question that lingered in my mind for weeks after… It didn’t sit right.
It’s not a question we’ve ever asked another king while in their search. ”
“Do you believe your mate to be alive?” Eloric states the question.
Lilith mentioned this—she mentioned the council discovered Ryc’s thoughts on the matter. It was Rowen who led that charge?
As damnable as the bond between Ryc and I may be at times, I certainly wish it was available now. The silence between us is smothering.
I—I think I understand where this is going.
In light of what Ganus has learned in the time between Rowen’s proposal and the eclipse—who and what I am, Netharis’ need for me to remain in the hells—he’s come to the conclusion the proposal was nothing more than a ploy of Netharis’.
Only it wasn’t.
None of this feels like something Netharis would pursue.
For Netharis to be involved, what stands to be gained must be great.
This is too little, and less than guaranteed.
Rendering Ryc unavailable via marriage wouldn’t have been enough to stop him from hunting me in the living realm.
These fae have made it clear the mate bond takes precedence over everything else.
The moment he found me, the marriage would have been absolved. Where are the gains in that? I certainly wouldn’t return to the hells were I to have discovered Ryc wed.
No, Netharis promised me to Kassil—that was his resolution. That was his chosen means to keep me bound to the hells. Ryc was never part of the equation.
Yet… it doesn’t answer the question on how Rowen knew to ask such a question. Or who told him to.
“Rowen,” Ganus’ voice slices through my thoughts and straightens my spine. “Did Netharis order you to interfere with Alaryc’s ability to find his mate?”
The question hangs in the air like a storm cloud.
Charged and ready to set the room on fire.
A small smile plays on Rowen’s lips. “No,” he answers calmly.
“Truth,” Eloric snarls and the room explodes with voices.
Kings shout, stand from their seats, and sling accusations—all of it rings unheard by my ears. Instead, a loud nagging settles into the back of my mind.
Things aren’t quite aligning.
It may not have been Netharis, but in my bones, I know it was a demon.
Netharis might have known Ryc existed, but I fully believe he was unaware of Fate’s hand in our shared destiny. It left room for another to figure it out. And they kept the information to themselves.
Someone who grew able to tell any time I dreamt of the dark-haired fae.
Someone who would potentially use the knowledge against Netharis.
Someone who has visited Rowen in the past.
“I thought he might be serving as your messenger, as he did for your father.” Rowen’s words from a week ago echo in my head.
Ganus has named the wrong demon.
Vaelyn coercing Ryc into a marriage via Rowen would prompt Ryc to hunt harder for his mate.
Fate aside, it explains Ryc’s desperation to keep me beside him, away from Netharis.
And me, the blinded fool I am, couldn’t see past my hatred for my father.
I couldn’t see the strings Vaelyn’s been tugging at for centuries.
The longer I stand in the light of the living realm, the darker and deeper Vaelyn’s deceptions become. Netharis may have been cold and calculating, but he was constant, predictable.
Vaelyn is proving to be anything but.
The sudden silence of the room strikes louder than the shouting. Lifting my gaze, order has returned to the room. I dare to glance at Fenryn then Ryc, finding their attention turned to Rowen.
“Are there any other instances from the last century you’d like clarified?” Rowen asks in a tone much calmer than I would be inclined to use.
The question is followed by silence.
Is that it?
Has Rowen truly done nothing else worthy of scrutiny over the last hundred years?
“I’d like to reiterate to the council repercussions should be maintained for those willing to break their oath,” Ganus says. “Rowen broke his oath the moment he signed his contract with a demon.”
I pause. Bewildered.
Surely they haven’t forgotten who they’re forcing upon the High Throne.
“The proposal to remove both Rowen and Tanila from Vis remains,” Eloric adds. “Regardless of our most recent findings.”
I shift in my seat, leaning closer to Ryc. “Is it ill-advised to argue this?” I ask as he leans in.
“I thought you might want to,” he says with a curling smirk. “Speak freely, little love. I’m behind you.”
With a small nod, I straighten myself and find Eloric’s yellow eyes once again. “You seek to punish Rowen and Tanila—to make them an example. What happens when other Sovereign Kings sign with a demon?”