Chapter 12 #2
Shortly after Prince Torach and his entourage of guards burst through the doors, a small group from Meridia arrived. Almost like they planned the ambush.
“Your queen hoards magic like a squirrel hoards nuts in the winter!” The Meridian delegate whose name I’ve learned is Ronan has gone purple with rage, spit flying from his lips as he jabs a finger in my direction.
I cast a sidelong glance at Sterling, whose perfect posture hasn’t faltered despite the accusations.
His eyes meet mine. “Queen Lark cannot possibly control the distribution of magical ability across kingdoms.” Sterling’s words remain measured, but there’s tension in his jaw. “The changes in magic have affected everyone, including those in Tirene.”
“Yet your queen burns brighter than ever.” A Meridian woman with steel gray hair pulled back so tightly it gives her the appearance of a permanent scowl glares at me.
Her face is nearly as red as her tabard, which also features yellow lining and an image of a wheat sheaf.
“While our people can no longer manifest even the simplest magic.”
I look the irate woman in the eyes, refusing to let her anger intimidate me. “I understand your concern. Truly. But accusing me of hoarding magic is like accusing me of stealing the rain. It’s not something anyone can control.”
“Convenient,” Prince Torach mutters loud enough for everyone to hear.
Digging my nails into my palms, I silently count to five.
“No. What’s convenient is blaming me for things I cannot control after I risked my life and those I love in order to save the world.
Tirene lost many people in the battle against Narc and the drachen.
” I gesture between Sterling and me. “So while other kingdoms no longer possess magic, we lost something infinitely more valuable that we have no chance of reclaiming…human lives.”
“Like I said,” Torach leans closer, malice evident in every line of his face, “convenient. For you.”
This entitled bastard is itching for a fight.
And I’m more than happy to give him one.
“Perhaps,” Queen Maeve raises her hands, her palms out to both Torach and me, her delicate brows furrowed in frustration, “what we need is unity, not division.”
All eyes settle on her. Her king has steepled his fingers, his knuckles white with strain. He nods to his queen.
“This is our home. You will at least pretend you have some manners while you sit at my table.” She lifts her chin. “The absence of magic concerns us all. Pointing fingers will not restore balance.”
King Mihel nods, genuine hope crossing his features. “Indeed. Perhaps a more…traditional approach is required.” He folds his hands to hide his anger.
The Meridian delegates exchange nervous glances.
Even Prince Torach seems to hesitate, something almost like interest flickering in his eyes. He straightens, removing his elbow from the table. “What do you propose?”
The tension in the room sings like a broken gittern’s string.
Discordant. Jarring. Lingering.
Like a true diplomat, King Mihel spreads his hands in a gesture encompassing all present. “A ceremony. At dawn tomorrow. At our great temple, the Divine Commons, with four kingdoms participating. An attempt at unity through traditional worship.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. More ceremonies, more rituals, more conversation when we should be investigating, testing, and experimenting with the actual magic itself. But I hold my tongue.
“The gods have abandoned us,” Ronan slams his fist against the table, “just as magic has.”
Maeve purses her lips but doesn’t get a chance to reprimand him.
“Then perhaps it’s time we remind them of their obligations.” King Mihel glares at the clenched fist on his welcoming table. “The Divine Commons was built to honor all deities, great and small. If the gods are changing, as some believe, then maybe we need to address them directly. Together.”
I’d rather force everyone to run laps around the castle until they’re too tired to argue.
Like naughty children. But I’ll try anything at this point.
We don’t have any other options. While I’d love more than anything to put these pompous asshats in their places, Tirene is still recovering from all the drachen attacks.
The last thing we need is a war on multiple fronts.
Queen Maeve leans forward, her soft voice reaching every corner of the room. “The Divine Commons stands at the highest point in Emraldae Keep. At dawn, the first light touches the central altar in a way that has been considered auspicious for centuries.”
“Very well.” Prince Torach slouches in his chair like a child. “We will participate in your ceremony.” His tone suggests he’s granting an enormous favor rather than agreeing to a perfectly reasonable request.
I nod in acquiescence, not trusting myself to speak politely. There’s no way I can match Queen Maeve’s calm demeanor and polished speech. The Meridian delegates follow suit, though the steel-haired woman looks far from convinced.
“Excellent! We shall meet tomorrow at the Divine Commons before first light.” King Mihel rises to his feet, signaling the end of the discussion. “I suggest you all use the time until then to meditate and pray to the gods in your chambers. My guards will show you the way so you don’t get lost.”
A dozen or so guards peel away from the wall, finally able to do something. Escorts step up to each group, ready to lead us all away. The meeting dissolves as the various delegations drift out the doors.
Sterling stands, offering me his hand. “We will be honored to join you at dawn.”
King Mihel dips his head. “My wife has made a room available to you that is completely dark, should you wish to pray to Nyc. We know you have a special bond with her, Queen Lark.”
“Thank you for that, King Mihel, Queen Maeve.” I return the head dip, one reigning monarch to another. Except this is their home ground, not mine.
Once we’re clear of the chamber, without guards needing to help us along, a servant steps forward to guide us back to our assigned quarters. I walk beside Sterling in silence, conserving my energy and holding my thoughts until we’re alone.
I’m impressed by the castle’s guest wing.
All smooth stone and intricate tapestries depicting Tír Ríoga’s rugged mountains, forests, and seascapes.
Our group has been given an entire corridor, with Sterling and me in the largest chambers at the end.
The rest of our people create a buffer between us and potential threats.
As soon as the door closes behind us, I release a groan that’s been building since breakfast. “I need to wash the diplomatic slime off me. Have you ever seen someone as rude as Torach or those jackholes from Meridia?” I start pulling at the fastenings of my formal attire.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Sterling prowls through the room, checking every door. “The servants have already prepared a bath.”
I shoot him a grateful glance before disappearing into the bathing chamber.
Steam wafts from the large copper tub, and scented oils float on the surface.
With a contented sigh, I sink into the hot water, feeling my muscles unclench for the first time in hours.
Taking my time, I scrub away the day’s tension and frustration.
When I eventually emerge, wrapped in a soft royal blue robe provided by our hosts, I feel almost human again.
Sterling has removed his formal jacket and opened a window, allowing the chilly breeze to sweep through the room. He turns as I enter, his eyes softening in that way they do when we’re finally alone. “Better?”
“Getting there.” I drop onto the bed and arrange myself against the pillows. “I think I need a nap before I can face any more diplomacy today.”
He smiles. “Rest. You have plenty of time before dinner.”
I close my eyes, allowing exhaustion to pull me under.
When I wake, the light has shifted, and late afternoon shadows reach across the floor. Sterling sits in a chair by the window, reading a slim volume bound in dark leather.
I stretch, feeling more clearheaded. “What time is it?”
“About an hour before dinner.” He closes the book. “You slept the whole day away. You must have needed the rest.”
I swing my legs off the bed, moving to the wardrobe where my clothing has been unpacked. I select a formal gown suitable for a foreign court. More ornate than the tunic and breeches I’d rather wear, but I want to make a good impression.
As I dress, I feel Sterling’s eyes on me, appreciative but thoughtful.
“You’re worried.” It’s not a question.
I nod while fastening the last clasp. “I’m not built for this, Sterling. I want to hit something. Or stab something. Or set something on fire.”
“I’ve noticed.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward. “Your right hand twitched toward your nonexistent sword approximately every three minutes at breakfast.”
I grimace. “That obvious?”
“Only to me.” He catches my hand as I pass him and gently gathers me into his lap. “Lark, you’re doing great. Better than anyone else would in your position.”
“Thank you. But I still wanted to pitch those arrogant fuckers out the window, one by one.” I relax enough to wrap my arms around his head and hug it to my chest. “Perhaps in small groups, for efficiency.”
Sterling chuckles while extracting himself from my hold. “How many do you think you could handle at once?”
The question brings me back to reality. I’m not actually going to decapitate foreign dignitaries, no matter how tempting. “It would be easier just to feed them to the dragons. All I’d have to do is stop dampening so the dragons can feel everything I’m feeling, and then…”
A knock at the door interrupts us. Sterling’s arms tighten briefly before releasing me. “Come in.”
I settle into my own chair as Agnar enters, followed by Rafe.
“Guards at the door hassled us. Insisted that we knock.” Agnar heaves an exaggerated sigh. “But based on the way you two split apart when we came in, now I’m thinking I should thank them. There are some things that my delicate eyes just don’t need to see.”
Rafe snorts, tugging at his collar in discomfort. He’s still getting used to Agnar’s blunt comments.
“Actually,” Sterling’s lip curls in amusement, “Lark was talking about the most practical way to take out some troubling individuals.”
Agnar stops in front of me. “Has anyone ever told you you’re violent? I don’t know if having that much rage inside is healthy. Maybe you should work on that.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?” I offer my sweetest, most innocent smile.
Agnar roars with laughter while Sterling shakes his head.
Rafe mumbles something I can’t quite parse before clearing his throat. “So sorry to intrude on whatever it is you were really doing. But we came to ask about the meeting. We heard some servants gossiping about a scene between the Kamorians and Meridians. How bad was it?”
I reach for the side table where a decanter of amber liquid sits alongside crystal glasses. “Anyone care for a drink?”
When everyone nods, I pour a measure into each glass and pass them around. I take a healthy swallow from my own glass.
The spirit burns pleasantly going down, warming me from the inside.
It’s a local specialty, distilled from a grain that grows only on the rocky slopes of Tír Ríoga.
As the others drink, Sterling and I relay how the first meeting with the other delegates broke down before it could even officially start and how we’ve agreed to attend a prayer meeting tomorrow morning to seek guidance from the gods.
Agnar settles into a chair, stretching his long legs out before him. “The ceremony tomorrow…you think it will help?”
I snort. “About as much as spitting on a forest fire.”
“We need answers.” Sterling swirls the amber liquid in his glass. “The ceremony will offer pageantry, not solutions.”
“Agreed.” Rafe nods, his expression grim. “These people are scared. Eyril has been their equalizer for centuries. Without it, the balance of power shifts completely in our favor.”
I tap my fingers against my glass as an idea forms. “While we’re praying at dawn, we need to know what’s happening outside the temple. Do some discreet exploration of the city instead.”
Agnar straightens, intrigued. “You want us to eavesdrop on the locals?”
“I want you to take the pulse of Tír Ríoga,” I clarify. “Visit the markets, the taverns, listen to what ordinary people are saying about magic. About us.”
Rafe’s eyes narrow in thought. “You believe there’s more happening than diplomatic posturing.”
“There’s always more happening than what we see in court.” I sip more of the strong liquor, careful not to drink too much at once on an empty stomach. “And we need to understand the full picture before we can find solutions.”
Sterling shoots me an appreciative glance that warms me more than the alcohol. “Good thinking. What we need to know won’t be shown in front of the king, queens, and prince.”
“Meanwhile, you’ll be sitting through a meaningless ceremony.” Agnar grins. “This is why you’re my favorite monarch.”
I smile despite myself. “Just don’t get caught or do anything to draw attention. The last thing we need is to be accused of spying on top of everything else.”
Rafe downs the rest of his drink in one swallow. “We’ll be inconspicuous. I know how to blend in.”
Agnar winks. “I’ll teach him. By tomorrow, he’ll be swearing like a dockworker and walking with a proper commoner’s slouch.”
“I am the Master of the Guilds.” Rafe raises his chin, peering down his nose at Agnar. “I know how to talk with the common man. And I dine with them at least once a year.”
Another laughing fit overtakes Agnar as he claps the man on the shoulder and leads him out.
I worry that these diplomatic tensions may be just the beginning of a much larger conflict. One that none of our kingdoms can afford to fight.
I frown when I catch Sterling watching me, his expression pensive. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Just thinking that Tirene has the right queen for these troubled times.”
“A queen who fantasizes about murdering diplomats?”
“A queen who looks beyond the obvious.” He rises to stand before me, coasting his fingers down my arms and trailing featherlight kisses down my neck. “Who sends her people to find the truth while others give in to fear.”
A thrill zips down my spine just thinking about what those fingers can do. “Careful. We don’t have much time before dinner.”
Sterling’s warm, spirit-laced breath tickles my ear. “Then consider what I’m about to do to you an appetizer.”