Chapter 44
Elsedora
Bringham was in his worst form—contrary and skeptical of the newly awakened King. He’d greeted us with little more than an expression of distaste before barking at his guards to let us through.
I gritted my teeth as we followed him into Algarnd Castle’s dreary dining hall.
West Corridor flags lined the stone walls; the castle was an ancient example of design.
It stood in contrast to the ornate domed ceilings and grand architecture of Luz.
Each room was a dull square or rectangle, and the only art that graced the walls were portraits of battles during the Great Wars, as though they were to be commemorated.
I’d never seen such an arrogant monument to one’s losses.
“Using dark magic to enter this Corridor... Blasphemy!” Haag grumbled under his breath as he sat at the head of the table.
Apparently, we left our pleasantries at the door.
Haag Bringham was a thorn in the foot—painful to deal with but inconsequential.
We’d attained permission for Lark’s use of Shadow-wielding to access his Corridor a day prior. He was on about nothing. Did he not remember?
Lark seated herself, and I settled into the chair at Emmerick’s side.
Prince Regon, Haag’s son, entered the dining hall. “Lady Lamoreaux, a pleasure as always. And, Princess Darvanda, looking lovelier than ever.” To his father’s expression of dismay, Regon reached to shake my hand and then kissed Lark’s. He stopped across from Emmerick, who rose.
The two men exchanged firm handshakes.
“King Mattock, I’m Regon. My father has told me much about you. I’m eager to get to know our dear neighbor’s ruler for myself. Welcome.”
The boy was a few years older than Lark, handsome with a mop of dirty-blonde hair and a kind smile. I often wondered if Haag truly could have fathered the Prince. Regon’s sincerity, however, gave me hope for future relations with the West.
“Pleased to meet you,” Emmerick said before the Prince sat.
A maid wearing gray linen garb set tea on the table. I braced for what was likely to be a taxing conversation.
“I hope you come with news that you will renew your stance that the West and North Corridors should unite against the use of wicked sorcery in our lands. The company you keep concerns me, King Mattock,” Bringham said, turning his gray-streaked beard in my direction.
My leg bounced beneath the table, and Emmerick set his hand on my knee as he said, “I bear no such news. My priority is the good of the realms. I’ve seen the evil our lands may fall to. Source magic can protect my people. It stays.”
I watched the chiseled lines of Emmerick’s face as he stayed remarkably calm.
Haag scoffed.
Regon cast his father a worried glance before fixing his attention on Lark. “I suppose soon these decisions will fall into our hands, won’t they?” he commented, with a smirk.
“Only when I’m cold and buried, boy. By then I hope you see reason,” Haag snapped at his son, and the rest of us straightened. I couldn’t help but let my lips pull up at the sides. “The Wymark-Darvanda dominion is a threat to us all.”
Lark sat taller and didn’t falter against the brute’s cutting words against her family name. My pride swelled to see her so poised, though I longed to tell Haag where he could shove his irate and irrational opinions.
King Bringham ran his eyes over me in a less than gentlemanly manner. “Though I made Lady Lamoreaux an offer that still stands. She could have settled our differences years ago. She still can.”
Something in Bringham’s eyes darkened; the sconces flickered, casting us in shadows for a moment. The hair on my arms stood on end—something about the West Corridor King felt unbalanced, dangerous even.
“What offer?” Emmerick asked me.
My eyes narrowed on the sniveling excuse for a royal at the head of the table. He’d been an arrogant prick when he’d negotiated then, and he still was one now. Being told “no” just made his hunger for what I’d refused him stronger.
“He will loosen bans on Source-wielders in the West, but only if we sell off the western border towns of the North Corridor. And if I take his hand in marriage, or Lark takes Regon’s, as a peace offering.” I stiffly sipped my tea. “Quite the bargain for a man with so little to bid.”
Haag snarled, “You’re searching for something. I know you’ll do almost anything to find it.” The vicious smile that spread across his face made me ill.
Emmerick’s grip on my knee tightened. “It’s no longer up to her,” he snapped. “That region is in my Corridor, and I won’t sell it for any price.” His jaw pulsed, and I could see the tension building in his shoulders.
Lark laughed, breaking the chill that had seeped into our conversation. “Well... what a relief. No offense, Regon. You’ve always been lovely to my family, but I feel we make better friends.”
Haag’s face turned red, but his stare grew distant as though he’d lost his train of thought.
The Prince shrugged. “None taken. Our future alliance will be better off for it.” He and my niece shared a conspiratorial sip of wine.
“Then, it seems we are still at an impasse. The West stands strong alone—magic-free,” Haag concluded.
Lark’s face hardened. So much for poise. “The West is a sitting duck. You will soon require aid against the Death Origin’s rise.”
“Is that a threat?” Haag spat.
“No. It is a fact,” Lark argued. “You think you are invincible, but the Corridors are stronger together. If you would rather put your people in danger, so be it. When the whims of Caym’s wrath come down upon you, do not seek the rest of the realm’s forces to help you.”
Young Bringham’s cheeks pinked, as he was clearly unhappy with the conclusion. His father held his hand up and answered Lark’s statement with a chiding, “We shall see, girl. This phantom threat you warn of has no roots in reality. And should such a threat rise, he will not knock on my door first.”
He seemed so certain. Eerily certain.
Lark needed to handle this on her own.
I reached down and grabbed Emmerick’s hand, trying my hardest not to let my boiling rage best me. He drew slow circles over my knuckles—I knew touching him was foolish but couldn’t help myself.
“I see no girls in this room. You will address me as Princess Darvanda,” Lark commanded. Her expression turned steely—so much like her mother’s. She could go from light-hearted conversation to ruler in the snap of a finger.
“I am destined to face Caym. To end him. While you sit here in your ghastly castle, eating bonbons and playing monarch, I’ve been preparing. And when he is at your doorstep, I hope he kills you first. Because what have you done to stop him from hurting your people? Absolutely fucking nothing.”
The curtain rose, revealing what truly lay behind the scenes—a young woman trained to become the ultimate weapon, coached to handle herself with both the grace of a diplomat and the claws of a Lynx. I’d delight in telling Sybilla about this one. If we made it out of the room without warfare.
The West Corridor King fumed. “Well, girl, I see you’ve inherited your mother’s ways—unable to appease your allies. It seems you don’t need to search my lands for whatever useless relic you’re after.”
“When, old man, did we become allies? With how much you have to gain from us and how little we have to gain from you, you should be begging for our aid.” Lark tapped her fingernails on the table.
Once again, this conversation would not win us points for civility or access to the West Corridor, but I was proud of my niece for not taking the man’s horseshit all the same.
“You’ll see,” Haag growled out. “Mark my words, you’ll see.”
I’d had enough. “Princess Darvanda and King Mattock must be off to their next meeting. I’m sorry that we could not come to an agreement,” I said and stood.
Prince Regon rose with us, but Haag sat with his head in his palm, looking irritated and detached. I’d thought for certain Lark’s goading would have spurred a larger tantrum.
The Prince walked us out into the ill-lit entryway. He leaned in to whisper something to Lark. Her eyes widened, and she nodded. I wished for the ability to hear thoughts as she could. Her winning of Regon’s trust could bode well for us all long-term.
“And tell Hurley I said hello and to stop being such a stranger,” Regon added as I stepped closer to say farewell.
Lark’s brows rose. “I didn’t know you were so close with my cousin.”
The Prince smirked. “Sure, if by close you mean close to winning everything he owns in cards. The man’s face is so readable he may as well lay them down on the table before we begin.”
Emmerick’s shoulders remained stiff as we exited into the courtyard, leaving the young royals to chat amongst themselves for a few moments before we departed.
“He wanted to marry you?” he ground out.
I shrugged. “It is an attempt at a power grab. If anything should happen to Lark, then the Central Corridor’s rule turns to me. If anything had happened to you, the same of Helos. I considered it for only one reason...” I blew the whistle around my neck, and Mayra descended from the clouds.
“What reason could possibly be good enough?” His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that halted me. Jealousy?
“Permission to search the West Corridor for relics… and a way to wake you. He’s got watchtowers stationed from one end of the border to the other, and since the land is flat in the countryside, it’s near impossible not to be seen.
Even if I flew or Lark Shadowed us in, we’d still need time to search.
We’d be spotted before we found anything of use. ”
He ran his fingers through his curls, pulling at them, with a furrowed brow. “You aren’t still considering. Are you?”
Bringham had a shorter lifespan than I did.
He hadn’t been wrong when he’d said I’d agree to almost anything to find the relic we needed.