Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Ser Aeron matched her smile with one of his own and chuckled, the sound deep and warm as he shook his head.
When he met her gaze once more, there was a glint of mischief as he gestured toward the targets on the opposite end of the field before canting his head toward Aiden.
“How about some target practice?” Auraelia’s eyes widened, a small disbelieving laugh bubbling up her throat.
“What?” He shrugged. “He’s a cocky bastard, and you need to practice bending your abilities around objects, or people, who aren’t your target.
Two birds, one stone. Just don’t hit him, okay?
” The smile on Ser Aeron’s face broadened, and as if he had heard them, Aiden pushed off the wall, his eyes wide as they flicked between Auraelia and the commander.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I highly advise against whatever it is.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not my advisor then,” she hollered across the pitch.
“Where’s Lord Harland?” Auraelia asked as the council members settled into their seats around the table. She’d never known the man to miss a meeting, and now that she knew what he was up to, his absence sent anger prickling down her spine.
“I believe he’s ill, Your Majesty.” Mister Aramis supplied, briefly meeting her gaze as he shuffled the parchment in front of him into a neat stack.
“I see.” Auraelia drummed her fingers along the tabletop. “Well, let’s begin then.”
Just as the final syllable left her lips, the doors to the council chamber swung open, and a red-nosed, bleary-eyed Lord Harland came staggering in.
“Apologies for my tardiness, Your Majesty.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. “I’m a little under the weather, but the physician is adamant that it is nothing serious, and I should be well soon.”
Reigning in the sneer that was beginning to form on her face, Auraelia gave him a placid smile as he sank into his seat. “I’m glad to hear it.”
The last thing she wanted to do was inquire about preparations for the impending war with a traitor in her midst, but she had no choice.
She had to appear as if everything was fine.
That she was oblivious to his treachery and still saw him as one of her trusted court members.
Lord Harland nodded his thanks, and she blew out a breath as she turned her attention to Master Demir.
“Where are we in regards to the completion of the new armor and weapons for our troops?”
“Right on schedule, Your Majesty.”
“Excellent. I would like to see them before they are distributed.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Master Demir responded, bowing his head.
Not willing to give Lord Harland the details on when the equipment would arrive, she shifted her focus to Mister Aramis and changed the subject. “What of the Ladies of Topaz? Have we any new information on where they stand?”
Her emissary gave her a sympathetic smile. “My contacts within the Court of Topaz have no new information, Your Majesty. They say that their Ladies have sequestered themselves.”
“I see.” The room fell silent, all eyes trained on Auraelia as she came to the only possible conclusion. “Well, if your contacts can’t ascertain their stance, I shall ask them myself. Write to Lady Orna and Lady Blyana to let them know their presence is requested at court.”
“Ye–yes, Your Majesty,” he stammered. Confusion marred his features, but he bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“Oh, and Aramis. Do word it as a request, but make sure they know it is not an option.”
All eyes at the table widened, except for Lord Harland, who looked at her with curiosity.
Her mother had never demanded anyone appear at court; she’d never had to.
And Auraelia had planned to follow in her mother’s footsteps, abiding by that same courtesy.
She never wanted to reign this way. It wasn’t who she was.
Wasn’t who she wanted to be. But there was no time to placate people's sensibilities. This wasn’t the time for anyone to stand in the gray area.
War may be coming to her doorstep, but it impacted everyone in the realm, and it was time that the ladies of Topaz faced that fact, whether they were ready to or not.
After the remainder of the council had given their reports, the meeting came to a close, and Auraelia dismissed them from the chambers.
Her head was pounding, and she rubbed at her temples in an attempt to alleviate the ache that was determined to take root.
Every time Lord Harland so much as breathed too loudly, her magic burned beneath her skin, begging for retribution.
The constant effort of tamping down her rage, of making sure that the mask she’d donned stayed firmly in place throughout the entirety of the meeting, had been daunting.
Acting as if everything was fine would be harder than she thought.
At the sound of the door creaking open, Auraelia pulled her head from her hands.
“You ready?” Aiden asked, his face a mask of indifference. Nodding, Auraelia pushed up from her chair and gestured toward the door that led from the council room to her chambers. “What, no quippy response?” he asked, crossing the room to meet her at the door.
“Aiden,” she huffed out in exasperation, “I don’t have the energy for your sarcasm right now.”
“Too tired from trying to fry my ass?”
Auraelia scanned him from head to toe. She’d taken Ser Aeron up on his offer of turning Aiden into a live practice dummy, and there was not a single scorch mark on his person or a hair out of place.
The exercise had been educational and exhausting, but seeing the terrified look on the emissary’s face any time a bolt of lightning curved a little too close for his comfort had made the exhaustion worth it.
A Cheshire grin spread across her lips. “Trust me, if I was trying to ‘fry your ass,’ I wouldn’t have missed. ”
Turning away, she opened the door and headed toward her chambers, not bothering to see if he’d followed.