Chapter 17
The War Room
TITUS
Iburst through the great obsidian doors of the war room. The air was thick with tension and the residual heat of many bodies. Advisors and captains, all having traveled by dragon, were already gathered.
It must have taken Prisca a while to locate me. A wave of guilt rolled through me. Everyone had already arrived, waiting for their leader, while I had been selfish and irresponsible.
I ground my teeth when I saw the seven crimson robed figures seated in their designated places.
The Temple’s Council. The other half of the governing body in my kingdom.
An infuriating partnership that stifles and blocks everything I try to do to improve it.
Their extreme loyalty to ancient, chaotic laws, called Holy Laws, has polarized the Fire Fae for centuries.
Caddver, the head of the council, sat perfectly centered among the other six, three on each side, wearing his usual snarl of condescension.
If I could incinerate him, I would have done so long ago.
Any attempt to overthrow the council would ignite a full fire Fae civil war, and we have far greater problems to face.
As much as I despised him and his extremist ways, I was grateful for
one thing and one thing only. It was Caddver who proposed the compromise with the Kingdom of Terrain’s council that sentenced my father to death. I hated my father.
Nobody mourned the loss of Nerot the Cruel. I am glad he is fucking gone.
The rest of the council were aging extremists.
Their refusal to embrace modern magics like glamours revealed just how decrepit they truly were.
Most of the golden shimmer had faded from their skin, leaving thin gray flesh stretched over jutting bones.
The majority had been appointed by my great grandfather, and once appointed, the position was lifelong.
I hated all of them, except for the newest appointee, the one I selected, Antonias.
He came highly recommended by my Viscount in Ashenport.
Antonias was close to my age, and though he never outright disagreed with his decaying counterparts, something about him suggested he would, if given the chance.
There was something in the way he looked at me that made me sense he was different.
The map at the center of the war room was a masterpiece of dark, ancient cedar, a living depiction of the entire continent of Nevaehun.
Mountain ranges rose in miniature, their peaks sharp to the touch.
Great rivers were rendered in smooth, polished blue stone, and key strategic locations were marked by tiny, embedded shards of crystal that glinted in the light.
This map was the true heart of the room, a physical representation of the world I intended to claim in the name of fire-kind.
My grandfather had this room built. It is an octagonal chamber perched upon the highest pinnacle, a crystalline crown overlooking all that my flame can touch.
Each of the eight walls is made of seamless, enchanted glass, offering an unbroken, dizzying view of my domain. Below, the sprawling city of Embris unfolded like a living tapestry, where the delicate greens of the Faerie lands met the stark, ash-strewn landscapes in which my power is strongest.
Rexius, my nephew, quietly observed from the back of the room. He is not allowed to speak, only to watch and study me.
My sister would be incredibly pleased if he took the Flaming Throne, because then she could rule through her son.
She has always desired power. She was the firstborn, but females cannot hold authority in the Kingdom of Flame.
They are not even permitted in the war room, except as servants.
That is why she despises me. She hates my very existence, because the day I was born, she knew I would rule, and her hopes of finding a mate and governing from the shadows as consort over our kingdom died.
My hope is to produce a male heir with the blood magic of a High Lord. Rexius, a dull, spineless mommy’s boy, possesses a blood magic level that is not even half of my own.
As soft of a male as he may be, it is not entirely his fault; he did grow up fatherless after all.
My father traded my sister’s virginity to his merchant friend, leaving her with child.
She was only fourteen. That is how little our father cared about her; he valued his firstborn at a few hundred head of cattle for the dragon army during a blight that hit our own.
But now there is a war on the horizon; the Temple’s Council demanded I name my successor in the event of my death. Rexius, the closest male blood relative, received the position by default.
From behind a cluster of advisors, a noble male stepped to the table’s edge.
I recognized him instantly. Folliade, the High Lord of Land from the Kingdom of Terrain, my former ally and childhood friend.
He bore even more raw gemstones embedded in his flesh now, a trait of Earth Fae.
As their power grows, gemstones form along their skin like raised, colorful freckles, swirling across their arms in shimmering clusters.
“Don’t get your hopes up, old friend. I am only here as a neutral party. Since you were invaded while on my soil in Tercia, I thought it polite to come and tell you personally that the Kingdom of Terrain had no hand in this attack,” he stated in an almost friendly manner.
One of my guards spoke with clear regret. “He arrived moments ago. The High Lord of Terrain demanded an audience, Lord Titus.”
“Lord Folliade knows he is always welcome in my castle,” I replied curtly.
My captain stepped forward.
“Judging by the nature of the attack, we suspect the Kingdom of Night,” he explained.
Cercies and Aurelius took their places beside me at the map. “Is someone going to tell me what the fuck happened?” I sneered. I do not like being the last to know what occurs in my kingdom. I felt my flames pricking the surface of my skin, my blood beginning to burn.
“Ickeriss,” one of my most trusted advisors said. He pointed a gnarled finger at a small town marked on the map, a slave settlement known for its sprawling fields and livestock. “It’s been hit, My Lord. Wiped clean.”
“Wiped clean?” I demanded, my gaze sweeping over their faces. “Explain.”
“All those in charge there, the overseers, the administrators, the guards, slaughtered. Every one of them,” another captain reported, his voice grim. “But the slaves, and the livestock meant for the dragon army’s food supply, simply vanished.”
A cold fury settled over me, a stark contrast to my usual fiery rage. “Vanished?” I repeated. “Not killed? No tracks?”
“No trace, My Lord,” the first advisor confirmed. “It’s too clean. Too deliberate.”
The truth struck with sudden, icy clarity. There was only one enemy with such organization and malice: the Kingdom of Night. Only they possess the power of shadow travel, the sole means of moving that many people and livestock out of our kingdom unseen.
“How much livestock did Ickeriss produce for our dragons?” I asked the head of agriculture.
His face paled. He gulped before answering. “Ickeriss was one of four major livestock producers for the dragon army. Unfortunately, My Lord, it was the largest. About forty percent of the dragons’ food supply came from Ickeriss alone.”
The Kingdoms of Night and Sea knew our greatest strength, our greatest advantage, our dragons. They meant to weaken us, to starve our most powerful weapon.
“Fuck!” I slammed my fist onto the table. The resulting shockwave of heat sent parchment scattering. The room fell silent. My flames must have flared, because everyone, even Aurelius and Cercies, took a step back from me.
The High Lord of Land, Folliade, broke the silence. “Titus, might I offer a solution? Off the record, of course.”
I nodded to the scribe in the corner to stop recording. “All right. Go on,” I replied.
“A unique crystal, unknown to most, resides deep within the enchanted mines of my kingdom,” Folliade said.
“It possesses an uncommon capability referred to as the multiplication crystal. Due to the need to maintain impartiality, I cannot give it to you directly, as that would compromise my neutrality. However, you could mine them yourself. I will authorize a border permit for three crystals, one for each of the remaining livestock towns. They only work on nonmagical objects, so do not try to multiply your dragons. It will not work. Once activated, a crystal can replicate only a single item until its power is drained.”
My unchecked rage was abruptly halted by shock. Perhaps somewhere beneath that bedazzled exterior, I still had a friend, even after the mess our fathers left us.
Caddver, head of the Fire Temple’s Council, proposed a compromise with the Kingdom of Terrain's council for our fathers’ crimes—one meant to avoid open war.
He called it a cleansing. In reality, it was an execution.
My father and Folliade’s were put to death, and by morning the responsibility of our kingdoms had been dumped into our laps.
We inherited fractured people, a fragile peace, and a rivalry forged overnight.
Whatever alliance we had was gone. So was our friendship.
“Folliade, on behalf of the Fire Fae, I cannot thank you enough. I will leave right away.” I held my fist over my heart and bowed my head to the Lord of Land in gratitude.
“Don’t thank me yet, Titus,” he said. “You do realize you cannot be the one to claim them at the border. You will need a non-fire Fae to accompany you and officially take possession. Give me their name, and I will sign off on the permit. I cannot have my people believing I am helping Titus, Lord of Flame, son of the Lord who kidnapped our beloved queen and ended our alliance.”
He paused. “Also, my assistance comes with a price. I have reason to believe our missing queen is still alive and possibly in your kingdom. I want clearance to search for her.”