Chapter 33
SEAN
“So that’s my pitch,” Sean said, pacing the sitting room while Bel, Kywyn, and David sat on the couch, watching. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re annoying,” David said. “Can you not just sit down?”
He shook out his arms. “Gotta move. Restless.”
After learning of the Sending, Sean removed the metaphorical mirror from his wall and threw it to the ground, letting it shatter into a million mercurial shards. Looking backward achieved nothing. He couldn’t continue to pretend this wasn’t happening or wish to go back in time.
The window, however, was too blinding.
Sean chose the prism. He peered into its crystalline depths and split his world into compartmentalized, manageable pieces.
The first? Shifting the Council in favor of a renaissance of the Exorcism.
“Can I interest you in alcohol?” David asked. “Maybe a hard blow to the head?”
Sean shot him a look.
“Fucking also works.”
Kywyn coughed, while Bel turned a glare on David.
“You would know, right?” Sean asked. “Could barely get you out of your bedroom for this conversation.”
“Have I mentioned how much I regret that decision?”
“I can’t just lie around. I have other things to worry about.”
David hummed. “Sounds like a you problem.”
With a sigh, Sean continued his pacing, ignoring Isobel’s clenched jaw. David knew the two of them had been sleeping in separate bedrooms since the day Sean had learned of the soul binding, but the man delighted in mischief. He also particularly enjoyed baiting Isobel.
“It sounds great, Sean,” Kywyn said, brushing past the whole exchange. He had that twinkle in his eye that spoke of pride, and Sean couldn’t help but grin. “They’ll have to listen when you put it so succinctly.”
He wasn’t sure about that. The Council had been fickle with every idea he’d put forth, and what he proposed now was a giant overhaul of the Exorcism. Bowenn was on board with his plan, which counted for a lot, but Nish was resistant to change.
“It’s well thought out and it makes sense,” David said, “which means they’ll probably hate everything about it.”
Isobel rolled her eyes. “I think they’ll love it.”
“Of course you do,” he said. “You’re a sycophant.”
Kywyn cleared his throat before an argument could break out. “If they agree to this plan, this will take a great deal of work.”
Sean nodded. “I’ve already worked it out with Bowenn. It will be hard, but…it’s good, right?”
His father smiled. Isobel nodded.
David just stared. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
Sean threw a decorative wooden bird from a nearby shelf at him.
An hour later, he bid goodbye to David and strode to the Council room, where most of the members were already seated. Sean took his usual seat, flanked by Isobel and Kywyn. Autumn gave him a supportive smile from her place beside Isobel.
“Welcome,” Nish said with a wide grin. “We are eager to hear how it went in Viterra last week. I was just telling the Council how I wish you’d come to speak with me sooner.”
Sean forced a smile. “It was fine.”
“Fine?” Heleta laughed, her copper braids jiggling. “Come now. Don’t be coy. Tell us how you did.”
In Sean’s hesitation, Kywyn leaned forward. “Sean did quite well for his first outing. We found many more Indies than I was expecting.”
Autumn nodded.
“And he handled them all,” his father continued. “I’m not sure he was even worried.”
The excitement around the table turned palpable, and each Council member exchanged a congratulatory glance with another.
“To be fair,” Sean said, feeling the need to explain, “I had a good team.”
“Tell us the best part,” said Weyla, the smiling spae who sat to Nish’s left.
He sighed and stole a peek at Autumn, who shrugged as his thoughts preceded the words that spilled from his mouth. “Probably the part where David saved our lives.”
The smiles vanished from their faces, and Isobel reached for Sean’s hand, gripping tight.
Shards of David’s simmering irreverence tore through their connection. “You know, the guy you didn’t want to go with us?”
Nish sat straighter. “It was for your own protection. The heir of Manae—”
“Saved my life.” Sean hadn’t realized until this moment he was still so salty about the Council refusing to question those who’d held David down with intent to harm.
“His magic—”
“Doesn’t even work on me,” Sean said, “so I don’t understand why you’re so threatened by him.”
Nish sighed. “Just because he has hoodwinked you into believing he cannot compel you does not mean we should entertain the belief that he never will.”
He almost laughed. “Hoodwinked?”
Isobel’s hand squeezed tighter, reminding him of the secrets they all kept. “It’s no matter, is it?” she said, her emerald gaze boring into Sean. “The mission was successful, and we are all safe.”
Nish’s tense expression eased. “Of course, Lady Isobel.”
“I believe Sean has some ideas he’d like to share with you.”
Right. There were more important things than trying to dismantle centuries of pathologic beliefs.
He delivered his speech perfectly. The Council met his proposal with true consideration, willing, at least, to offer coin and manpower to see it through.
Squads would be assigned strategically, each with key Luxorian races as well as a dedicated leader, preferably from the Sentinel caste or higher.
Outposts would be established and manned in Viterra.
They would aid in placement of squads, store supplies, and serve as contact points.
Sean had thoughts on transportation, money, weapons and collateral damage.
He touted a month-long deployment for each squad.
They listened, and more than that, they seemed…excited. Since Sean had entered this realm, they’d been saying this place was dying, and he was the only one who could save it. They patiently waited for their Ashanta to come and make it better.
Well, here he was, and fuck them for waiting so long.
When he finished, Nish templed his hands. “One whole month in Viterra. Your biggest problem is the energy issue. No one can tolerate being drained of magic for so long. What do you plan to do about that?”
“That’s why we train. Scenarios will be run—bouts fought on little water and food, with minimal sleep. We train them to endure, and they will.”
The Council leader nodded. “This is good, Savior. This is what we need.”
Isobel squeezed Sean’s hand once more, shooting him a small smile.
“You shall meet with Bowenn and give us regular briefs,” Nish said.
A grin fought to break, but Sean willed it away. “Perfect. This is—perfect.”
Every Council member beamed his way—knowing stares that made him restless.
He scratched his neck. “What is it?”
Heleta tipped forward, her voice going soft as her braids brushed the table. “You are ready.”
Nerves jolted through Sean’s stomach. “What?”
“You are ready for the crown, Sir Caden,” said Dahlia, her sylph gold sparkling in the sunlight from the windows behind her. “Even the Queen believes so. She sent a missive three days past, asking why the Savior wears no crown and why she has received no audience with him. It is time.”
Sean wanted to deny it, to flee, but instead, he picked up his prism and looked through it. This was just the next step. He’d known it was coming, and it didn’t change anything.
“We shall plan it in the coming weeks, yes?” Nish eyed him closely. “Kywyn shall pass down his crown.”
“And Elenya,” Sean said pointedly.
The man’s smile tightened. “Aye.”
In just a few weeks, Sean would be a crowned Sovereign of his people. His stomach clenched.
When they left, Kywyn gripped his shoulder. “You did great. Are you ready?”
“Where exactly is this crown? You never wear it.”
His father laughed, as did Isobel. “None of us do. Damned uncomfortable, the thing is. I’ll be glad to be rid of it.”
Sean raised one eyebrow and said in a voice that reminded even him of David, “So glad I could take it off your hands.”
“When you take the crown, you will need to dine in the Great Terrace,” Aunt Blaire said that evening as she settled into the crowded dinner table.
Across from him, Autumn and Cole sat closer than necessary, while beside him, Isobel kept a respectable distance, her face a tad pale.
“She’s right,” Kywyn said on his other side. “People question why you hide.”
Sean reached for the basket of glowberries. “I’m not hiding.”
“Yes, you are,” David said without looking at him, and Anna pinched his ribs. He flinched away.
“You’re one to talk,” she said.
His gaze swung toward her. “The audacity of me, right?”
“So you meet with Bowenn tomorrow?” Kywyn asked, spooning soup into a bowl.
Sean nodded. “We’ll have to figure out how to gather supplies. Weapons. Money.”
“Yes, I understand coin rules humans,” his father said.
“Greed rules humans,” he corrected.
“David could get you coin,” Isobel said, her gaze on her food. “It would take little effort for him to extort mortals.”
David’s jaw tightened, and Sean watched Anna slide her hand over his under the table.
“Just because his weapon is his voice doesn’t mean it takes little effort,” Sean said quietly.
She snorted.
“Have some grace,” he said, eyeing her.
Bel’s lips pursed, and she said nothing more. Sean repressed a sigh, weighing the odds of her picking a fight after dinner versus resorting to a full-on silent treatment. He was so tired of fighting with her about this.
Sean turned toward his father. “I’ll probably have to go into Viterra to secure outposts.”
Kywyn nodded. “I’ll go with you. We’ll make an exploration party.” He glanced at Isobel. “Sound good, Bel?”
Lips still pressed tight, Bel gripped the edge of the table and her pallid complexion went waxen.
Autumn jerked forward. “Isobel?”
Eyes wide, Blaire dashed from her chair toward Bel. “Lady Isobel? Are you all right?”
“I’m going to be sick.”
Blaire set a healing hand on Bel’s cheek, then snapped her hand back as soon as their skin touched. “Bless the Mother,” she muttered.