Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The council chamber resembles my mind right now.
Cluttered, chaotic, and stretched far beyond its intended purpose.
Maps crawl across tables like invasive vines, reports stack in precarious towers, and the air hangs heavy with too many hours of debate.
Elijah’s account of the Devoted man who confronted me is mixed in as well.
The man was long gone, and so far, they haven’t been able to locate him.
I press my fingertips against my temples, where a headache throbs in time with my heartbeat. For four days, including this morning, Bastian took care of everything, but I still need to read through the documents detailing his decisions.
He’s currently finishing up today’s report. I’m sifting through the papers while Sterling informs the council of what happened during our excursion.
We hoped the journey to find the portal would provide answers. Instead, we returned with even more questions and the terrifying knowledge that the gods themselves are at war.
And now the councilors sit around the table, struck dumb by the news.
Breann and Fenton appear to be praying, which seems a little risky given what we learned.
“Lark, need another cup of tea?” Rafe hovers at my elbow, uncharacteristic concern pinching his handsome features. “Or some extra light so you don’t strain your eyes?”
On any other day, I’d tease him about mothering me. But now is not the time.
“Thank you, but no.” My voice sounds distant even to my own ears. “Maybe a shot of whiskey in the tea for Knox?”
Nira pushes her cup forward, silently requesting the same.
Sterling hasn’t stopped pacing since he started relaying his story of our journey.
He stalks around with the restrained energy of a caged predator, reminding me of the cave cats at the Divine Commons.
The water in every glass and pitcher ripples with his passing, tiny wavelets climbing the sides before receding.
His sensitive magic is a sure sign of distress.
Dalya says nothing as her fierce gaze follows the sway of water.
Bron opens his mouth only to snap it shut like he’s thought better of speaking.
In a chair across from me, Agnar rests his head in his hands, his broad shoulders hunched forward and his coppery hair escaping its tie to frame his battle-scarred face.
Dark circles shadow his blue eyes, mirroring my own exhaustion.
“Maybe we should stick to Tirene. Things work better here. And it’s small enough we can handle everything that happens within our borders. ”
The same solution Tír Ríoga settled on. Their response does possess a certain practical sense. Global isolation. Just stay within their borders, protect their own lands and people, and let everyone else deal with the divine war the best they can.
But how does that solve anything? The fallout from a celestial war will affect every kingdom.
“We’re Tirenese. Not clams who hide in the sand every time the tide goes out.” I meet the gaze of each council member, ensuring they’re paying attention.
Sterling stops pacing long enough to raise an eyebrow at me.
“Segregating ourselves will only limit our knowledge, resources, and ability to respond to the crisis. I believe our strength lies in our numbers and our willingness to work together. It’s the only way we can hope to survive whatever the gods throw at us.
” I tap my fingertips on the world map. “What would other nations say if we tried to explain what we saw and learned?”
Sterling plants his hands on the table opposite me. “What do we actually know? A gods’ war. But who’s fighting against whom? Why?” He pushes upright to resume his previous movement. “How do we protect our people from being collateral damage in a divine war?”
Dalya shifts her sharp gaze from the water to the map. “And that’s exactly why we can’t seclude ourselves. The pattern only emerges if we can see enough of the board. Let’s lay out what we know for certain.”
I pull a fresh sheet of parchment toward me. Might as well add to my stack. “First, the gods are at war with each other.”
Agnar straightens in his chair. “Second, the odd events are fallout from that war.” He counts off on his fingers. “The sacred springs boiling in the Eastern Provinces.”
Nira sips her fresh cup of whiskey-laced tea, her shiny brown hair spilling over her shoulder. “The flock of sheep that grew two extra heads each. The night sky appearing in daylight over the Western Marsh.”
“The Devoted have chosen a side.” Sterling plops into a chair across from me with a generous pour of whiskey in his tea.
Fenton steeples his fingers under his chin. “Except we don’t know whose side, or even what the sides are.”
“Clearly, they’re on Zeru’s side. Or that’s what their tattoos would indicate.” Rafe rubs the knuckles of one hand while staring off into the distance.
“But surely there’s more than just the Devoted on Zeru’s side. That’s the most troubling part. We don’t even know who’s fighting whom.” I write each point in hurried script.
Nira sets her cup down, sliding it away from a haphazard stack of papers. “Which gods would align with Zeru?”
A thought strikes me that I’m glad we don’t know.
Because if we did…
If we knew which gods stood against each other, we might be forced to choose. And what if Nyc and Ziva are on separate sides? Who would I align myself with?
“I wouldn’t know how to choose.”
Sterling’s dark eyes find mine. “Choose what?”
I realize that I’ve spoken out loud. Swallowing hard, I do my best to ignore the terrifying implications. “If we knew which gods were fighting which, we’d have to pick a side, wouldn’t we? The kingdom would have to ally with some deities over others.”
Horror blooms across the face of every council member.
“No.” Sterling’s voice is firm. “Our allegiance is to Tirene and her people. Not to gods who’ve decided to use our world as their battlefield.”
Agnar scratches his chin, where stubble has formed after days without proper grooming.
“Noble sentiment, but practically speaking, the temples would force the issue. The high priests would never allow the crown to remain neutral. Citizens can abstain, but the queen must choose. Not picking a side is the same as aligning us against them all.”
Even worse.
I rub my eyes, fighting frustration and fatigue.
What if Rivlan, God of Water, stands against Ziva? Sterling and I aren’t the only ones who would need to pick a side. If the elemental gods insist their magic users side with them, it would tear families and friends apart. No matter the kingdom.
My headache throbs.
“Let’s focus on what we can control. Immediate actions.
” I draw a line under our list of facts and begin a new section.
“First, establish and maintain perimeters at sacred sites. Every temple, shrine, and holy spring needs additional guards. Not to impede anyone from coming and going, but to be on hand for when emergencies happen. With couriers ready to send word.”
“Teach magic merging.” Agnar shrugs as if it’s obvious, but his suggestion gets blank stares from the councilors.
“What? Queen Alannah taught dampening to all the guards and servants during the drachen attacks. That was picked up by the nobles, the craftsmen, and then their families. It’s how we got away with as few casualties as we did. If I’d taught my sister…”
He slams his cup to his mouth as if trying to drown out the next words.
My heart squeezes when I realize what he cut off.
He believes that if he taught his sister to dampen, she wouldn’t have been corrupted, Rose wouldn’t have been taken, and his brother-in-law wouldn’t have died a gruesome death.
While I doubt any of that is true, I know how quickly the mind can settle all the blame on one’s own shoulders.
“I like that. It’s a good idea.” Dalya plants her fist on the table. “Teach magic merging. Though it won’t do much good to those outside Tirene, it will at least strengthen the magic of our kingdom.”
“In that case…” Rafe starts rummaging through the piles of papers he always brings to these meetings. “We need to cultivate the Fusion Root Vine. The tea made from it helps people merge smoothly. We’ll grow as many of them as possible.”
“Rafe.” I dip my chin at him, and his eyes snap up to meet mine. “You’ve merged with us. Work with Bastian to write down detailed instructions on how to do so. Once you agree on the wording, start making as many copies as possible.”
Sterling, catching on, addresses Fenton. “Your herbalists are top-notch. Do they have Fusion Root Vines in their gardens?”
“I’m sure they do. Everything started growing better after Narc and his drachen were defeated.” Fenton straightens his wiry frame. “I’ll have them take stock of the plants and get an inventory. Would you like me to coordinate with the palace herbalists to…”
“Yes. But I want you to take charge of it. Find out how many plants we have access to and how quickly they can be propagated.” Sterling writes a quick letter and pushes it to me. “Anyone who has an herbalist or a garden of their own, please check yours immediately.”
Several chairs scrape across the floor as most of the council members stand.
Scanning the message, I find it gives Fenton authority to query and work with all herbalists, including those employed by other nobles.
The letter only requires the queen’s signature to be valid.
“Report back as soon as you can. The faster we get this moving, the sooner everyone will be able to protect themselves.”
Agnar rises, grabbing the stack of papers Rafe has been collecting. “I’ll help write up instructions.”
“We also need to prepare for refugees.” Sterling gestures to my list. “When strange things happen, people flee. Every major city should establish protocols for housing and feeding sudden influxes of displaced people.”