13. Thirteen #2
“How do you know this?” he demanded, voice thick with the wary hope of a father desperate to bring his child home.
“I ask to bring a witness before the Council to share her firsthand testimony on this matter.”
Thorn signaled to the court herald, who opened the doors and ushered Bryn inside.
The Wyldling walked to the edge of the table and waited until Thorn nodded at her to begin.
“I am Bryn of the Twin Arrow clan of Maedwen.” Her voice was clear and strong, carrying to the corners of the great room.
“Nearly a century ago, I was captured by Omen of Raven’s Isle, along with the members of my clan.
Until a few weeks past, I remained a prisoner of Raven’s Isle, enchanted by Omen and controlled by him.
Manipulated to do his bidding. Under his thrall, I remembered nothing of who I was or where I came from.
Cared for nothing but doing as I was told, which included serving as both a spy and an assassin. ”
Arthur leaned forward in his seat, propping his elbows on the table. “If what you say is true—and I’m not prepared to accept that it is—how is it that you came to escape?” A smirk crept across his boyish face.
“The Shadowbringer dispatched me with orders to remove a threat. I tracked my target from Pyralis to Nivali, then to Silvergard, where, at last, an opportunity presented itself. When I attempted to carry out my orders, the female I was sent to kill broke the enchantment, setting me free.”
“Who were you sent to kill?” Siris asked. His eyes, green flecked with gold, flashed. “The one who broke the enchantment?”
Nova rose from her seat before she realized she’d begun to stand.
“I was her target,” she said. The attention of the room instantly shifted away from Bryn and settled upon her.
“And who might you be?” Siris asked, tilting his head as he appraised her.
“My name is Nova.” She swallowed with some effort before continuing, “I believe I possess an ability known as the Light of Illora.”
“The light of what?” Arthur asked.
“Illora,” Sienna repeated, enunciating each syllable, unable to hide her irritation with the young lord. “I’ve not heard it spoken of for ages.”
“Those with the ability can combat dark magic. Break curses,” Siris explained, his curious gaze focused squarely on Nova. “I must say, I’m intrigued. But how can we be certain it’s true?”
“I bore witness and can attest to the Light’s existence,” Nox said. “Along with my commander.”
“How convenient,” Arthur scoffed.
Nova wondered if he possessed the ability to speak words not steeped in disbelief.
“We’re expected to trust the word of someone who can manipulate thoughts?” he added.
“I’m not manipulating anything,” Nox asserted, his calm never wavering. “I’m simply sharing what I know. I witnessed Nova use the Light of Illora and saw it break the enchantment on the Wylding.”
“That’s a powerful ability,” Samira said, addressing Nova directly. “One passed down by a Noble bloodline, to be sure.”
“Yes,” Sienna agreed, dangly gold earrings dancing as she nodded. “What did you say your name is, my dear?”
“Her mother, Elena, was once a dear friend of mine.” Estrid offered, smiling as much as her distress would allow, eyes red rimmed and watery. “A courtier in Sonnend.”
“And your father?” Siris pressed.
Nova opened her mouth to speak, but her throat tightened. She sensed the impatience in the room growing the longer she stood without producing a response. Panic gathered like storm clouds in her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.
“Nova is my niece and heir to the Lunar Throne,” Nox declared, rising from his seat and taking her hand firmly in his. “Omen is her father.”
The shock in the Great Hall was palpable, as everyone began talking over one another, several Nobles eyeing Nova as if she were a cunning fox prowling about a henhouse. Lord Arthur rose from his seat, shouting over the others and pointing an accusatory finger in her direction.
Nova’s breath quickened, her composure slipping away like early-morning mist. Nox squeezed her hand tightly, and a sense of calm washed over her just as Lucan rose to stand protectively at their backs.
Nova’s eyes flitted across the table to Callan, who had risen from his seat as well and was making his way to where she stood.
Without warning, an icy gale swept through the room. It rattled the doors and empty chairs and deposited a dusting of fine powder on everyone. The shouting stopped immediately with all eyes turning to Thorn, an imposing figure without a single snowflake marring his clothing.
“Listen, all of you,” he bellowed. “I know the betrayal you feel. I tasted it myself when I learned the daughter of the Shadowbringer had been sleeping under my roof. Eating at my table.” He paused and turned his face to Nova, seeming to regain a measure of calm.
“But she has a good heart,” he conceded, nodding at her once before turning back to the others.
“And she wants to do what’s right. So, I suggest we cease our squabbling and come together to help her do just that. ”
Siris and Sienna called upon the sun’s light and had the snow melted in seconds. A quick blast of wind from Samira dried up the small puddles that remained.
“See what we can accomplish when we work together,” Thorn offered optimistically, clinging to the small act of cooperation. “Now, then. Nova, what do you propose?”
Her mind raced, thoughts sprinting through the plan she and Callan had concocted with input from Nox and Lucan. Taking a deep breath, she released her uncle’s hand and stepped forward.
“I’ve never met my father, but in the time since I first arrived in Aemoria, I’ve learned a great deal about his cruelty.”
Her voice wavered, and she bit the inside of her cheek, her initial instinct to detach herself from the feelings that, in the past, made her feel weak. She looked to Callan briefly, then continued, her voice still tinged with emotion.
“I cannot begin to imagine the full extent of the pain my father has caused. But I will see his dark rule ended. And I vow before all those gathered here: If I cannot cure him”—she swallowed hard—“then I will kill him.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Rowan asked, genuine curiosity painting his features.
“If the territories of Aemoria band together, perhaps we can draw Omen and his army of the Enchanted out of Raven’s Isle. If I can get close enough to him, I will try to use the Light to banish the dark magic that has corrupted him. Break the enchantment on all those who have been taken from you.”
“That’s quite an if,” Arthur interjected smugly.
“For the love of the gods, Arthur. Would you let her speak?” It was Arthur’s twin, Riven, who had come to her defense. She met Nova’s eye and extended a hand, urging her to continue.
“Lord Arthur is right.” Nova bowed to him in spite of the complete lack of respect he’d shown her. “It’s not a foolproof plan. In fact, it’s not much of a plan at all. In truth, it may not work. In which case, I propose a fail-safe.”
“Which is?” Siris prodded.
Nova briefly retold the story Bryn had shared about the creation and destruction of the weapon Omen wielded to kill his father and brother.
“I will seek out and reforge the remnants of Kinslayer, and I will end his life myself.”
“Ridiculous,” Arthur sneered. “A reforged sword? Is this a bedtime tale? Do you mistake us for younglings?”
“Omen fervently believes his heir will one day cut him down with the same blade he raised against his own blood,” Bryn declared, pinning the Noble Lord of the Spring Court with a hard stare.
“Now, that is interesting,” Samira remarked.