Chapter 21 #2
“And what exactly is this Council?” Sean asked.
“We handle disputes, complaints, and make decisions for our people when necessary. We rule on minor transgressions and provide support to the Queen.”
Sean took the time to study each of them, clueless to their ages. “How did you all come to be on this Council?”
“’Tis a lifetime appointment. When one rejoins the Light, another is assigned.”
“By who?”
Nish looked tempted to laugh. “By this Council, of course.”
Of course? Was he supposed to make that leap?
Nish continued, “We will plan for your coronation soon, marking your formal investiture—”
“Along with the heir of Manae,” Sean said.
He hesitated, his mouth hanging open mid-sentence before he recovered.
“Yes, of course. As a noble descendant, the heir of Manae will also receive his due crown, but he is not to serve on this Council. While the four of you hold the Sovereign titles, this Council is our true governing body. The heir of Manae’s skills are better utilized elsewhere. ”
So well said. This man was certainly a politician, but couldn’t he see that this was prejudice at its most pure? The injustice of it burned under Sean’s skin. Were they trying to force David to follow his ancestor’s footsteps?
Nish continued, “Please, let us introduce ourselves.”
The strangers at the table took turns presenting themselves, and Sean forced himself to pay attention to every detail, memorize every name.
He spent time speaking to each of them, and when the last woman—a dryad named Heleta with dark skin, a deep laugh, and reddish braids—gave her history, everyone at the table was chuckling and telling Sean stories.
“Remember when…”
“Tell him about the time…”
“…and she never saw it coming!”
Sean laughed along, but the tension in his nerves climbed higher as the certainty that he didn’t belong settled deep. In a lull, he set his hands flat on the table. “So, what exactly are you expecting of me?”
Nish’s mouth parted, and he exchanged glances with his neighbor. “You are the Ashanta,” he said, as if that was all Sean needed to know.
I don’t know what that means! He wanted to scream it, but he also didn’t want the answer. His own ignorance helped no one, yet he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
Discordant desires.
Cognitive dissonance.
“So I help coordinate the Exorcism?” he asked. “Do I reorganize it? What is my role?”
“All of it,” Heleta said with a small shrug. “Lhynion Sidera was a member of the Selgovae clan, and per the Queen’s instructions, they have managed the Exorcism since his death. We all see room for improvement, but we were hoping you would know how Lhynion succeeded so well.”
A tremble made a cozy home in his hands, so Sean pressed them more firmly against the table. “You want me to take the role of Sovereign with no training and no guidance?”
“Sean,” Kywyn said.
“We are here to guide you,” Nish said, “and we were hoping Lhynion’s memories could help you. They are a blessing you were given to save us from starvation.”
Sean stared at the man. “By managing the Exorcism?”
“Er—yes. It is written a new plague is coming, and you will end it. You will restore peace and balance.”
…Plague? Didn’t Kywyn say the last plague was some epidemic of treason against the Queen? Isobel’s acidic fingers gripped his hand, and every single person at the table smiled at the gesture. Like it was expected. Like he and Isobel belonged together.
Welcome to the show.
“I don’t want to be coronated.” The words burst from him.
The room stilled.
“Not yet, I mean. It isn’t fair to expect me to take the crown without any training, simply because of my age.”
“It’s more than that, Sir Caden,” Nish said. “The Sending says—”
“I don’t care,” Sean said, not wanting further elaboration. “If it’s a true prophecy, a crown won’t make a difference.”
Troubled glances bandied across the table.
With a deep breath, Sean forced down his rising panic and called forth the charm he’d always used like a weapon.
It had abandoned him of late, but he smiled and relaxed his shoulders.
“Listen. Kywyn is fantastic at teaching me what I need to know. Let him keep doing it. Between him and Lhynion’s memories, it won’t be long before I’m ready to wear that crown and make you proud.
If I take it now, I’m bound to make mistakes. ”
The troubled glances turned considering, like they thought his points well made. Score one for Machiavelli.
“And look at it this way,” he said, hating himself for what was about to come out of his mouth, “the longer you wait to crown me, the longer you can wait to crown the heir of Manae. It’s a win-win.”
“This is true, Nish,” said Weyla, the spae to Nish’s left. “If we allow the realm to become accustomed to the heir of Manae, he may be better received.”
Nish rubbed his face. “If only we could deny him the crown.”
“His family is noble, and he has done nothing wrong,” Kywyn said in a tone that made Sean think he’d said it many times. “You cannot accuse the son of crimes committed by the father.”
“I can if he has his father’s memories in his head,” Heleta muttered under her breath.
Sean couldn’t place when this anger at David’s situation had blossomed, but he found himself deeply disturbed by their attitudes.
Regardless, hope had sprung, and Sean clutched it with greedy fingers.
“I’ll serve on your Council. I’ll train for the Exorcism.
I’ll figure out how to make it better. I’ll let my father teach me everything he knows.
All I ask is that we hold off on making me the crowned Sovereign. Being the Savior is enough right now.”
After a few moments, Nish nodded. “Let us vote. Those in favor of delaying the coronation of the heir of Lhynion Sidera, raise your hand.”
All but Heleta agreed.
Sean couldn’t stop his smile. “Thank you.”
Isobel’s hand slipped away, and the burn receded.
“Lhynion was none too keen to own his title,” Nish said.
“I should have expected you’d be the same.
It’s only that we have been waiting for you.
” Sean wanted to reply with something scathing, something that made his disbelief clear, but Nish continued, “We are expecting a great deal from you, Ashanta. You will make terrible sacrifices for the good of us all. This small concession we make gladly as a token of our goodwill. Your Sovereign crown will wait for you.”
Sean’s stomach disappeared at the word sacrifice, but Nish’s gaze was so earnest that he merely dipped his head in thanks, trying to swallow down the sensation of drowning in a slowly rising flood.
“We meet weekly, with our next session four days hence. We look forward to your contributions to this Council, Savior.”
Sean’s smile faded, and with that, the Council departed, many of them kissing his temple goodbye.
“Come,” Kywyn said once they were alone with Isobel.
The three of them wandered to the balcony. Standing at the railing, Sean watched the people meandering far below through a thin curtain of Luster.
Isobel stood at his side, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “Does everyone always fall for your smile that way?”
He laughed. “Yeah, actually. I’m pretty good at winning people over.”
The fond roll of her eyes had him grinning.
Kywyn rested his elbows on the railing. “I wasn’t expecting them to agree, but you made a good argument.”
“I’m only delaying the inevitable,” Sean said.
His father smiled into the middle distance. “You still don’t want this.”
Bel’s hand paused in the center of Sean’s back. “None of us want this, Kywyn. Imagine being us. How would you feel?”
Kywyn’s mouth flattened into a line.
“That Sending,” Sean said. “I should probably read it.”
“Yes,” Kywyn said. “But reading the words won’t change as much as you think it will. You are still you, and you will have to make decisions based on what you think is right. Don’t read it if you’re not ready. And when you are, I’ll be there to talk you through it.”
Sean stared at his father, who continued to peer into the forest, and wished he’d had Kywyn from the beginning. How different would his life have been if he’d had a dad to help weather the storms, to pull him through his grief, to walk him through the mist?
Had his mother believed the Sending so horrible that sacrificing Kywyn was worth thwarting it?
Bitterness rose, the bleak sensation of having been cheated of something he deserved.
In a moment of vulnerability, Sean gripped Kywyn’s shoulder.
The older man glanced back, rising to his full height to place a hand over Sean’s.
The pixie familiarity sparked, a warm current of affection spreading between them, stronger than any other pixie he’d yet touched.
“It will get better, Sean,” Isobel said, voice soft. “Give it some time.”
“I will. Now that it’s been given to me, I don’t plan to squander it.”