Chapter Six
CHAPTER
SIX
There was still blood on Aurelie’s armor when she stepped into the council room not an hour later.
A map of the Greater Realm lay spread across an elongated wooden table, colored tokens symbolizing the various forces set atop it—white and red to mark Rhovar, gold for the angels, black for the demons, and brown for the forces of the neighboring kingdoms, with a slash of white marking those ruled by the Divine.
The sconces along the stone walls cast shifting shadows across the meeting space, playing across the faces of all who’d gathered.
King Edric sat at the table’s head, a figure neither grand nor imposing.
He was of simple build—average in height, willowy in frame, and easy to overlook.
That is, until one noticed his eyes, a steely lavender that held endless wells of knowledge.
His black hair fell in neat waves, a beard and mustache meticulously trimmed to obscure his face.
Aurelie had often wondered if this was by design, an intentional choice to emphasize his disarming eyes.
Varen sat at the king’s right, his white hair tied into a loose knot. Azriel stood behind him, placing himself between the king and the large oak doors, his wings extended to their full span to reveal sixteen eyes that observed the room’s every angle.
The king had a penchant for his studies, having trained as a velari before donning the crown—a fact that he took great pride in.
He still wore his golden robes each day, and the shelves behind him were filled with essays and recordings from his studies.
Scrolls and leather-bound tomes lined the shelves, their spines cracked from use, while an astrolabe rested atop the desk.
Aurelie and Ilaria both nearly had their hands cut off for playing with it as children, but those memories felt like a lifetime ago.
“We cannot afford another attack.” The king spoke with the commanding softness of one who’d spent a majority of their life studying in the archives. “Three more fields of grain were destroyed last night. At best, we have a year of reserves if we’re careful.”
Queen Sybil sat to her husband’s left, a tall woman with a face made more severe by her tightly plaited hair.
Her fingers were steepled, forehead resting against them as if trying to piece together a puzzle.
Here in the secrecy of the council room, the queen did not cut her usual stately figure.
Instead, she was pale and fidgety, her knee bouncing beneath the table.
Her crimson dressing robe was hastily tied over a silk nightgown, the fabric wrinkled from her restlessness.
One of the robe’s sleeves had slipped down, exposing a patch of gooseflesh along her arm.
Beside her, Ilaria’s quill scratched against parchment as she recorded her father’s words.
“Thoughts, Ilaria,” he demanded. “We need thoughts, not scribbles. Had I wanted notes, I would have brought a scribe.”
“Apologies.” Ilaria stilled her quill only to flinch when the ink began to bleed, staining her fingers. She looked for somewhere to wipe them, nodding her thanks when Aurelie passed along a handkerchief.
If not for the future of a kingdom on her shoulders, Ilaria would have made an excellent velari.
As it was, she already bore their hallmark appearance: purple shadows beneath eyes and hair in disarray.
Bloodshot eyes that spoke of her exhaustion and too many hours spent staring at pages, and shoulders that habitually curved inward like one of her quills whenever her mind was lost in thought.
As the king had no son, Ilaria would never be allowed to fully lose herself to her studies no matter how well the life suited her. She wasn’t destined to be a velari, but a queen.
“What of trade with the neighboring kingdoms?” Aurelie asked. “Can we not barter for aid?”
“Barter with what?” The queen folded her hands on the table. “Even if we had worthwhile goods or the money for wares, there are few merchants who’d risk sending ships to our land.”
“What about demon hide? We have a reserve. We could offer fortified armor, or even weapons.”
“The reserves are hardly enough for ourselves, let alone to barter with.”
“Then what if we try something different?” To everyone’s surprise, it was Ilaria who spoke. The princess was so still that it didn’t appear she was breathing.
“Ilaria?” the king goaded. “Have you something to add?”
Beneath the table, Ilaria clenched the handkerchief tighter.
She was starting to scratch a tear into it from how much her hands were fretting.
“Before you argue, all I ask is that you hear me out. We’ve been fighting this battle for ages, letting our people exist in fear and hunger. But … what if we didn’t have to?”
The king sat upright. “Are you suggesting we surrender?” Beside him, Sybil drew a soft breath. Even Aurelie tensed, her skin burning at the thought.
“Not surrender, no,” Ilaria said quickly. “I believe we should seek a truce. History shows that humans were allied with the demons once before. There’s no reason we can’t try again.”
Behind them, Azriel’s feathers bristled. “You speak blasphemy, girl.”
“I speak of a way to end this bloodshed!”
“Watch your tongue, Ilaria,” the queen warned, and though the princess’s hands trembled, she didn’t dare drop her gaze from Azriel.
“The demons will never surrender,” she pressed.
“Imagine what would happen if they did. We’d enslave them, and their lives would be far worse than they are now.
But there are too many of them for us to keep fighting.
If we don’t try something different, it’s only a matter of time before Rhovar falls. ”
Aurelie’s blood ran cold. Even Azriel’s face slackened, for while this was a fear they all shared, it was another thing to voice it.
King Edric’s hands fell upon the table with a thunderous crash. Both Ilaria and the queen flinched, and Aurelie clenched her fists tight on her lap, steeling her nerves.
“That’s enough from you.” His voice was a hammer striking stone. “Have you such little faith in your people?”
Ilaria paled. “Of course not. I never said—”
“Just because you cannot see our options, it does not mean that we’re left without any.” He grabbed one of the solid brown tokens, setting it down hard on a neighboring kingdom across the ocean. “Frienen is open to forming an alliance.”
Frienen. Aurelie hadn’t ventured there since childhood, when her father had insisted on bringing her along to expose her to the various kingdoms and their customs. Their arrival coincided with the festival of Noctalis, a time of vibrant celebration for the Frienen.
Aurelie had been drawn in by the bards who sang stories of great mythical beings by a bonfire.
Orion had been with her then, and he’d explained the adorned altars as a way of honoring the dead.
He’d told his eager sister that during Noctalis, spirits were believed to visit those altars and possess an innocent soul to reclaim their life on land.
He’d said that spirits preferred young girls with many years still ahead of them, and Aurelie hadn’t slept that night in fear of being possessed.
It’d taken her years to realize her brother had been jesting, but she still thought of those traditions often.
Even then, the memory made her stomach weak.
“The Frienen are heretics who worship the stars.” Azriel’s words carried a hardened edge. “Surely we can find a better ally.”
“Frienen has been plagued by disease,” said the king.
“Old Thalorian is desperate. The king has turned toward the Divine in hope that they can save his people. I’ve promised your assistance to those already sick, Azriel, and through our union Thalorian intends to lead his people toward the Lighted Path.
In return, he’s sworn to send troops to help us eradicate the demons.
With their aid, Rhovar may just live to see another year. ”
“Our union?” Aurelie echoed before she could stop herself, ignoring her father’s pointed glare. She looked instead at Ilaria, whose face had gone stony.
The king at least had the decency to appear remorseful. “It’s as my daughter said—it’s time we try something new.”
The air between them felt suspended. Quiet, like the hush before a storm.
“When?” Ilaria demanded, her voice weak.
“The Frienens will need time to make their journey.” Queen Sybil reached out to touch a tender hand upon her daughter’s shoulder. “But we’ll need to move quickly. Ilaria is to marry within a fortnight.”
“It’s a strong alliance,” Varen said as if to soothe the tension across the table.
It could only help so much, however, given the bleakness in his own eyes.
Once, it had been Orion who’d been destined to marry Ilaria as a way to bind their families eternally—royalty, and the family blessed by the angels to forever watch over them. It would have been a divine union.
“My daughter, too, brings good news.” Eager to change the subject, Varen motioned toward the satchel at Aurelie’s hip and nodded for her to open it.
A chill spread through her body, though when all eyes fell upon her, there was no choice but to show them.
Fingers shaking, she reached into her satchel and drew out the demon’s severed tail, still bound in cloth.
Aurelie had dreamed of this moment for years, but now the tail felt like little more than a deadweight as she set it upon the table.
The fire in the hearth gave a sudden pop, the sound sharp against the silence as if the room itself drew a breath.
“What is this?” the king asked, though his tone suggested he knew precisely what it was.
“A trophy,” she answered, forcing herself to look at the king. “For my first kill.”
Had his clever eyes been watching Aurelie, they might have peeled her lie apart. But the king had eyes only for the tail, and as he lifted it up, unbundling the wrapping, Queen Sybil let out a cry of relief.
“Thank the Light,” she whispered, squeezing her daughter. Ilaria’s gaze remained distant and unblinking, her eyes fixed on the trophy.
“The demon was part of a bonded pair,” Aurelie said.
The king drew his finger down the length of the tail as though it were worth its weight in gold. “You’re certain of this?”
“The demon confirmed it herself. They must have humans with them, either willing souls, or…”
“Or the missing bodies.” Queen Sybil’s voice was tight, finishing the words that had stalled in Aurelie’s throat. Across from her, Varen’s jaw tightened.
There were always a few of them. Bodies that disappeared during the battle, thought to have become a scattering of unidentifiable parts left in the wreckage. It was why more demons were bonded than ever, their magic growing stronger.
“It’s possible,” Aurelie said. “If the demons are bonding, they must have at least some of our people. Light knows what they’re doing to them.”
Once, a bond between human and demon was not uncommon.
The two coexisted, sharing their powers—demons drew fuel from humans, while the humans inherited their magic in return.
But it was said that the bonds were too difficult for the humans to sustain.
Eventually they began to take on the traits of their demon counterparts, and would eventually turn into one themselves.
The angels intervened, outlawing these bonds to curb the growing demon population.
In turn, they offered their own bond as an alternative.
One bloodline per each kingdom that refuted the demons and agreed to dedicate themselves to the Divine was allowed to bond with the angels.
If, of course, each member of that bloodline proved worthy by being powerful enough to slay a demon by their own hand.
“We’ll need some time to recover before the hunt,” Varen said. “I’ll have the knights ready within two days.”
“Then we must make haste with the bonding ceremony.” The king’s cool stare fell upon her, and Aurelie straightened.
“My daughter isn’t the only one who tires of this endless war.
With Frienen’s aid and a second angel at our side, perhaps we’ll finally hunt down their stronghold and strike when the demons least expect it.
Aurelie must be bound to a Soldier. I mean you no offense, Azriel.
You’ve been a blessing for this kingdom, but right now we need as much strength as we can get. ”
“No offense taken,” Azriel reassured him. “A Soldier is the strategic choice, and the right bond may just help us turn the tide of this war.”
Aurelie’s heart stuttered at the thought. Even as a Guardian, Azriel was irreplaceable on the battlefield.
A Soldier, however, could wipe out entire armies with their bare hands.
“We’ve been dealt a terrible blow, but there is hope for us yet.” The queen was on her feet, crossing to wind her arms around Ilaria and then Aurelie in a backward embrace.
The king held his chin high as he looked down at her. Aurelie had long believed the king cared about her and Varen as family, yet in that moment he looked at them as her father looked at maps in a strategy meeting. As if everyone and everything before him were pieces upon his board.
“Get some rest, all of you,” he said. “By first light, we’ll have a new angel in our midst.”
Aurelie took hold of the tail, careful to avoid the barbs as she bundled it up tight and stuffed it back into her satchel. The others stood from the table, the princess still in a daze.
“Ilaria?” Aurelie called softly. She wanted to take her friend somewhere. To offer some distraction from the impending marriage … But where was there to go when the ground outside these walls was littered with bodies?
Ilaria’s eyes slid from Aurelie’s satchel to her face, but she looked too angry to speak.
This had always been Ilaria’s fate. Even so, in the face of it, she seemed to be swallowing back tears.
“Frienen’s prince is said to be a kind man,” Aurelie offered, though guilt wrenched within her.
“He could be the Divine Ruler Themself for all I care.” Ilaria clutched her quill so tightly it started to bend, then swept up her notes and pushed from her seat. A second later, she was gone.
“Leave her.” It was the queen who spoke, her body slumped as though her shoulders bore a great weight.
“She needs time to reconcile her fate, and you need to rest.” She brushed her fingers through Aurelie’s hair, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“We’re all immensely proud of you. What you accomplished tonight may very well save Rhovar. ”
This time, when Aurelie clutched the satchel, she felt no guilt. Instead, she allowed herself to feel hope.
One way or another, this war had reached its peak. So what did one lie matter, when the reward was a kingdom saved?