Chapter Forty Four
Council Divided
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Phaenon, Nythanor.
Kyra.
The Fire Warden’s fate lay in her hands. Every eye was upon her now, impatiently awaiting the final verdict.
How the fuck was she supposed to make this decision?
Could he truly be trusted? Goddess knew he deserved to die. For what he’d done to Phaenon, for the cruel life he’d led so far, for the countless upon countless lives that had perished at his hand. He was a puppet for his mother, a killer, cold and ruthless-
Hadn’t she been just that too?
The Warrior-Queen of the Arc had been a murderer. There was a black mark on Kyra’s soul as much as there was his, blood on her hands that she would never be able to wash away. The blood of opponents, strangers, friends… she was a deliverer of death herself.
What was it he had said to her last night…?
Do not judge yourself too harshly for what happened. As powerful as we are, even as Wardens, we are still mortal. We are not exempt from mistakes. Try to remember that, above anything.
Had he been pre-empting this moment? Had it been an attempt at stirring some empathy within her, when it came down to this decision?
Or had it been a genuine consolement, with no selfish agenda attached?
Either way, it didn’t matter.
Because he was fucking right.
How could she ever forgive herself for all she had done, if she judged him harshly enough to forfeit his life?
By principle, would she not deserve to die too?
They’d lived such vastly different lives, and yet it was all much of a muchness.
That moral line of right and wrong, of good and evil, was unequivocally blurred.
Wasn’t it?
Hating the slight shake of her hand, Kyra finally laid a crystal.
The effect was immediate.
Nysari stood up so fast her chair tipped over and slammed on the stone floor. ‘This is justice?’ she hissed, accusatory eyes on Naal as she pointed at Kyra’s white crystal. ‘For my father, your former Second? For the entire damned city?’
The male Kyra didn’t know said furiously, ‘My family died because of him, Naal. They were children. You cannot mean to let him live, after all he has taken from us?’
‘You are our pramah!’ Nysari cried, slamming both hands on the table. For a moment, she was quite wild. ‘If you will not avenge our people, who will? How can our people look up to someone who turns her back on them?’
Mankar grabbed her wrist. ‘You go too far, sister.’
Nysari wrenched away from him, looking about ready to blow when Naal stood.
Her voice was dangerously quiet as she said, ‘You made a vow when you became Eternal, Nysari Myrso, a vow I remember like it was yesterday. A vow to this family. A vow to me. I have never once given you a direct order. Your decisions have always been yours to make, of your own volition. I told you once before that you are right to question me. But this decision was not mine to make alone. And before the Four, judgement has been made.’ She gestured to the stones scattered on the table.
Nysari spat, ‘I should have slit his throat the second he arrived on Nythanor’s shores.’
‘You will not harm him!’ Naal boomed, pointed face contorted with fury. ‘None of you shall harm him. That is an order.’
A stunned intake of breath answered her as the order took root in the Eternal’s bodies. Nysari’s pupils dilated, her lips trembling with fury as though there were words behind them she was desperately trying to hold back.
‘Sit down, girl, you shame yourself,’ Maida scolded Nysari from across the table, sounding bored. ‘You are Third to our pramah. Act like it.’
‘We are split evenly, four and four,’ said Naal, somehow already composed.
Zuriel asked, ‘What does that mean for the outcome?’
‘That as pramah of the northern continent, where this trial takes place, the final decision falls to me.’
Nysari’s nails scraped the table. Naal ignored her and glared at Gedeon. ‘You want to prove yourself, Fire Warden? You want to be on the right side of history? I will grant you your freedom, your life, Gedeon Dewmaul, on one condition.’
Gedeon’s stoic expression barely changed, except for the arch of a dark brow. ‘What will you have me do?’
‘Take the Eternal Vow.’
The room erupted in a dissonant chorus of outcries.
Nysari snarled, ‘WHAT?’
‘Pramah, I urge you to rethink-’ Maida said.
‘But Naal, he is not an airling-!’
‘It matters not, Zuriel,’ Naal said, her voice rising over the raucous.
The noise instantly dimmed. ‘Take the Eternal Vow, Prince of Fire. Bind yourself to this order, to me. Aid us in the wars to come. Do this, and I swear to you, I will release you from your vow when balance has been restored. Betray us, betray me, and the vow will take your life. What say you?’
Kyra looked up at the Fire Warden. In fact, everyone did. Even Nysari.
He lifted his shackled wrists in front of him with perfect, collected calm. ‘I will take the vow. My life is yours, Naal Westerra.’
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Gedeon.
The Air Warden wasted no time in fusing Gedeon’s life to hers, as though she did not want to even let him leave the room before the Vow had been taken.
Gedeon did not want to do it. Bound to another, after spending a lifetime in royal servitude to his mother. But if it was the only way for Naal Westerra to trust him, he would swallow his reservations and endure his new position.
Before the eyes of the council and all who had witnessed the trial, he drank from an ancient cup a mixture of Naal’s blood and centuries-old aged wine, after repeating a string of promising words.
Meaningless to him, but a means to an end.
An oath of service that wrapped and tethered itself around his bones, the vow taking its hold on his body, his mind, his soul.
It felt wrong, to swear fealty to Naal after spending his entire life listening to his mother’s aching desire to wipe the Air Warden’s existence from the world.
But he had made his choice. And now that choice was solidified by blood. By promise.
If he hadn’t been before, he truly was a traitor prince now.
Two weeks had passed since that day, and at the Air Warden’s request, Gedeon had made himself scarce within Gallena’s temple, only leaving his rooms to visit the healer, who had summoned him to her a day after the trial.
Gedeon was no fool to believe she cared for him, and rather knew it was Maida Lorafiel’s intrigue in the abnormal curse in his back that had her wanting to examine it further.
He lay on the healer’s table for the fourth time since the first, gripping the wood with furious hands. ‘No… keep going,’ he hissed, feeling Maida’s magic withdrawing from his spine after another unsuccessful attempt to banish it.
The healer made an impatient sound. ‘Fancy yourself a hero, Prince Gedeon?’
Pushing himself onto his elbows, he said, ‘Quite the opposite. I just want it out.’
‘What do you think I have been trying to do?’ she said coolly. ‘Contrary to what you might believe, I take no pleasure in seeing you in pain.’
Gedeon threw her a glance but said nothing. He had not forgotten the black stone she had baldly laid.
She tutted, shaking her head as she thrust a cup of water in his face. ‘Are you going to sulk about my vote every time we meet? It was solely politics, Gedeon.’
He paused, raising an eyebrow. ‘I… hadn’t realised I’d been sulking. How irritating.’
‘Quite,’ she replied, but her lips twitched with amusement.
Tipping the water into his mouth, he winced as the movement sent pain lancing up his spine. It had been getting progressively worse the more Maida prodded at it, and it wasn’t exclusively a physical pain anymore either.
The longer his magic remained trapped within, the more restless it became. It writhed inside him, longing for a release he could not give. Growing up, he’d heard tales of inbound magic driving its wielder mad. He just hoped Maida could remove it before that happened.
He sat up to find her studying him. ‘Your mother banished you from her court after naming you traitor,’ she mused. ‘Was she the one who cursed you?’
Gedeon shook his head.
‘You have been unwilling to tell me who the attacker was. Which leads me to believe it was someone close to you.’
‘Your powers of deduction are second to none,’ he murmured grimly, then heaved a sigh. In truth, he was not sure why he was withholding the information. ‘It was my brother.’
‘The crown prince of Zarynth?’
‘The very same.’ It was suddenly difficult to hold her gaze.
‘Shortly after I fled Phaenon City, after I withdrew my flames, Sekun hit me with the curse. He deemed me unworthy of my powers for retreating. It was his way of ensuring I would not be able to use them. Fuelled by jealousy, of course, as is my dear brother’s way. ’
‘I see,’ said Maida stiffly. Silence fell, and the healer disappeared into the store cupboard, reappearing with a vial of milky white liquid in her hand. ‘I would like you to take this. It will alleviate some of the pain. I would take it with a stiff drink, if I were you.’
He took it from her, and the glass was cold against his palm. ‘Why?’
‘Because it tastes worse than shit.’
Gedeon almost laughed at that, deciding against asking how she could possibly know what tasted worse than shit, and gave a grateful nod.
‘Everyday when you wake, then again before you sleep. You only need a drop. I will brew another when it is done, should you need it. Though hopefully, you will be free from your brother’s curse before then.
’ She moved away and began tidying some of the clutter on her desk, though nothing she did seemed to actually control the mess.
Staring at the vial in his hand again, Gedeon was suddenly humbled. It was a kindness that two weeks ago, she certainly would not have extended him. ‘Maida,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’
Sensing the change in his tone, she looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. She gestured to the vial. ‘Mind you only take a drop at a time. Any more and you will be higher than the Peak.’