by LJ Rivers
“She’s not wrong, Carolina.” Rowan stroked a hand over the force field, as if testing its strength. “I have overstayed the queen’s hospitality, although I believe I have as much right as anyone to walk the soil of Avalon. If it wasn’t for Lady Carolina, however, I would have returned to Nidra already.” He held up his palms. “Not that it’s her fault by any means. I only meant—”
I couldn’t keep a straight face any longer and felt the corners of my mouth slide apart despite my efforts to stop them. “I see. And how long before the games did you arrive?” As if I didn’t know.
“A while before we arrived in Avalen,” Charlie said. She looked and sounded like a five-year-old caught red-handed in the cookie jar. “We met by chance outside a fishmonger’s in Avalen Port a day or two before you and I bumped into him.”
He leaned against the force field, crossing his arms. “I seem to remember I was not particularly involved in the bumping.”
Even if this was turning into an amusing game for me, I was still wary of the fact that an unknown Sorcerer—one with extraordinary archery skills—was roaming the streets of Avalen. I wiped the grin off my face. “And what am I supposed to do now?”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? Release him, obviously. I told you, he’s a friend. No danger to you.”
“She’s not concerned about herself, Carolina,” Rowan said calmly. His eyes were still locked on mine, but his look wasn’t provoking. It seemed more like he was trying to get inside my head. “Princess Ruby is worried I’m a threat to her beloved Queen Morgana.”
Charlie frowned. “Don’t be silly. You’re on her side.” She looked to me. “Our side, Ru.”
“Be that as it may,” I began, almost shaking my head at the tone of my voice. A commanding tone. Royal? “The stakes are too high, and at the moment, you are an illegal visitor. Your goals may be as noble as they come, but I have no proof of that.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” The tone of his voice was clipped, conflicting with his words. “And I commend your attitude. You would not be a loyal servant of Avalon if you didn’t put the queen’s safety first. I get it. And what am I? A Sorcerer with no ties to this land. Her Majesty might accept some of us, but she despises my kind.” He pursed his lips. “No, maybe that’s the wrong word. She fears us, all of us, based on the actions of only one man.”
Charlie wiped a tear from her cheek. “Don’t do this, Ru. Please.”
Again Rowan replied for me. “She has to, fair Carolina of Doethin.” He shrugged. “And she has to either imprison me or send me away.”
“No!”
I swallowed hard. “Yes.” The word came out like a frog’s croak. “I have to.”
The force field reacted to my command in an instant and retreated to its hiding place inside my core. The young, ridiculously handsome Sorcerer took a step forward and embraced Charlie.
“I will return,” he said. “If and when the queen allows it. My work here is far from done.”
“And I’ll speak with her should you be discovered,” I said, “but I can’t promise anything on her behalf. I still have no reason to trust you. Other than the fact that Charlie does. That counts for a lot in my book.”
Rowan nodded and released Charlie. He held her hands in his, and they touched their foreheads against each other. Had it not been for the intimacy of the moment, I might have laughed at the sight of the six-foot-three Sorcerer bending down to touch the five-one human.
“Your princess is only doing what she must, Carolina. And so will I. When I see you again, it will be great knitted foot garments.”
He took a few steps to the side and held his hand out. The shadows in between the scrolls and the books responded to his command and joined to form a cloud around him. The darkness slid towards the door, opened it, and disappeared outside. Kit sprinted after him and yowled at the doorway. Satisfied, his tail straight up, he returned to my side where he began cleaning his paws.
I lay my hand on Charlie’s shoulder, but she flinched and twisted away.
“Don’t.”
“Char, please.”
“No. Not yet. I mean, I get that this was the right thing to do and all that. Fine. But don’t expect me to be cool and calm about it for a while. I told you he was no threat, but I suppose my word actually does count for nothing these days.”
“OK.” Her words stung, but I could understand why she was upset. I released the tension in my muscles and felt my heartbeat return to its normal rhythm. “Can I ask you something, though?”
Charlie scoffed. “Sure.”
“Carolina of Doethin?”
She retrieved her backpack and started towards the exit. “Yeah. It’s what the erudites call me, and Rowan has picked up on it. He’s been … around, in the shadows. It means Carolina of Wisdom.”
“Nice. I like that.”
“So why do I feel none the wiser now?” She strode into the hallway and slammed the door behind her.
Chapter Five
No one said a word while we all waited for the queen’s arrival. The friendly dinner the previous night hadn’t been as joyous as I’d wanted, what with Charlie pouting during the entire meal. The three wolves had been chipper, however, and Brendan had boasted about his new title. Still, the rift between Charlie and me ate away at my core, and I felt less than confident where I sat. Having Kit by my feet gave me some comfort, though. Every seat apart from one was filled around the oval table, and each representative had at least two guards by the wall behind them. There were north of a hundred nobles and reeves currently in Avalen, so the representatives had been carefully chosen, according to land, wealth, knowledge, and authority, and they would convey the results of the meeting to the respective parties.
Six reeves and ten nobles sat around the oval table, along with the seven primes, a couple of lorekeepers, and a few other familiar faces. There was one face in particular I was happy to see. Halwyn, Morgana’s cropkeeper, a Goblin I had named my friend, sat at the far end from where I was, fingers laced over his chest. Next to him sat Elwood, along with a few others of the war council that I didn’t recognise but assumed held some important position in Avalonian society.
I squeezed Brendan’s hand under the table, and he squeezed back. His wounds were mostly healed, yet he still wouldn’t allow me to heal what was left. Still, most of the evidence from the swordplay two days ago had faded by now.
There was no fanfare when Morgana entered the room with Taryn trailing behind her and Nefari strutting by her side. Even so, everyone stood and bowed, waiting for her to find her seat.
“Welcome,” she said, resting her arms on the table. “We have much to discuss, but I will ask you to refrain from any outbursts, and let me finish what I need to say before we deliberate what to do with this information. I will explain everything as best I can.” She nodded at me and smiled. “First, I would like to formally introduce you to my granddaughter.”
Granddaughter was a bit of a stretch, but I supposed it was easier than counting all the ‘greats’ required to make it accurate. Morgana’s statement didn’t appear to come as news to those present, though a couple of the nobles frowned, crossing their arms.
“Princess Ruby is my one and only heiress, and I wish for you all to acknowledge her as such. I need your support and trust in this matter. I am not as young as I once was, and someday, hopefully not too soon, I will be no more. When the time comes, I want Princess Ruby’s name to be written in ink as my heiress, and I want you, as representatives, to put down your signatures, confirming her claim.”
One of the lorekeepers put a piece of parchment on the table in front of Brendan—not vellum, I noticed. It would appear Morgana had decided this called for the use of something she had ruled against. The lorekeeper placed a vial of ink and a feather pen next to the parchment, then stepped back.
“Go on, Swordmaster,” Taryn said from behind us.
Brendan grinned and put his name down as ‘Brendan of Callaghan, Juniper Swordmast
er’, then passed the items along to Pullhelli, who was sitting to his left.
The old Sorcerer dipped the feather tip in the ink, his hand shaking, yet he didn’t spill a single drop. After signing his name, Prime Sanctor was next. All the primes signed without a word, and even if I found the entire notion of my possible future queendom ludicrous, it felt good to get their approval. Especially since they had been ready to sentence me to death only a few weeks ago.
After Prime Soleiny had signed, she handed the parchment over to a man, possibly somewhere in his fifties. Although, who could really tell with Avalonians?
He was a lanky man with deep furrows on his forehead, and salt and pepper hair, combed back over his head to the nape of his neck. His hazel-coloured eyes found mine as he tapped his fingers on the edges of the parchment.
Taryn leaned in to whisper in my ear. “That is Lord Cramaine, one of the last Root Benders left. His word has merit.”
One of the last? I had spent the better part of my days learning about Gwyn Fanon and its history, but I had barely scratched the surface, and this was one fact I hadn’t known about.
“Yes, Lord Cramaine.” Morgana waved her hand at him to speak.
“I must say, I was hoping this celebratory event would have something to do with a solution to our most pressing concern. Have you found a way to bring the light back to us?”
“Unfortunately, not yet, my friend.”
“Well, that is certainly unfortunate, but I am puzzled. While the word about the Princess has reached even Cavalas, we have yet to be told the full story. I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty, but how am I supposed to write my name down, condoning her claim, when I do not even know if I believe she has one.”
Morgana’s lips tightened, but she must have known the question would come. “I understand your hesitance, Lord Cramaine, but will you not take my word for it? She is of my blood.”
“She doesn’t even have wings,” Reeve Humberlen shouted from the other side of the table where he took up two whole seats, making Halwyn look like a small child being pushed aside by Humberlen’s generous belly.
Morgana rose, placing her palms on the table, her eyes journeying over everyone present. “She is of my blood. She is Fae, and she is a Sorceress. She is both, equally and completely, and she has more power in her fingertips than any of you have in your entire bodies.”
Several nobles crossed their arms, and a few looked like they were about to protest, but Morgana pressed on.
“Ruby was born in the Land of Eternal Sand, almost fifteen hundred years from now. Time has moved differently on the other side of the portal. Yes, I know, you will tell me it cannot be, but I am telling you I have seen the truth. When my Elaine went through the portal, she had a child. Her child had another child, and so on. Ruby’s mother, unaware of my laws, made a child with a Sorcerer. A little over one dark moon ago, Ruby opened the portal I once made. None but one of royal blood could have done so. I cannot show you all that she has shown me, but my blood runs in her veins, and that should be enough.”
Cramaine shook his head. “You yourself have made the union of Sorcerers and Fae a crime. How are we to accept this?”
“Perhaps I was mistaken. Even a queen can err.” She smiled warily.
Pullhelli cleared his throat. “My Queen, if I may?”
She nodded and Pullhelli stood, supporting his weight on his cane—or maybe it was more of a staff. I could never tell the difference. “Everyone knows about the dark nature that sometimes consumes a Sorcerer. We tend to ally with the darkness, though that is not a universal truth. There are some of us who have learned to wield shadows and not succumb to them. I have advised four monarchs in my time, and I have seen it all. Or so I thought. Princess Ruby is an extraordinary Magical, but her powers aside, she will make a fine queen when the time comes.”
Cramaine opened his mouth, but Pullhelli turned his palm out to silence him.
“She has what King Auberon lacks, compassion for all life. Also, she does not wish to rule.” He chuckled. “By that, I mean, she does not yearn for power the way King Auberon does. And unlike him, she was blessed with Fae powers, as well as Sorcery. Auberon, though born of both kinds, is a Sorcerer only, and will never be a Fae. As we all know, a child of mixed descent will become either/or, not both. Yet our history tells us that on a rare occasion, something like this happens. I have seen a strong Sorceress, and an equally strong Fae in Ruby when we put her through the ancient Enchantium trial. I give you my word that she is what Her Highness says, and it is my firm belief that we could not ask for a better ruler to join the people and to bring peace to Gwyn Fanon. Also, if anyone can defeat King Auberon, it is her.”
Several people rose from their chairs, the chair legs scraping across the marble floor. They began talking all at once, and I could only make out the odd words, such as “why”, “King Auberon” and “it cannot be”.
Morgana inhaled sharply and waved her hands for them to sit. “Quiet down! Pullhelli, thank you for your wise words. I had intended to wait to share this delicate information until after we had dealt with Ruby’s claim.”
“My sincerest apologies, My Queen, but do you not agree that it is unfair to have them sign this parchment and not know the specifics?”
She sighed. “Pullhelli is right. You need to know everything.” She took another deep breath, raised her chin and left her fingertips resting on the table. “Auberon has returned. I’m sure you have heard whispers, rumours. I am here to tell you that those whispers are true. He has reclaimed his throne in Mynydd, and I fear he is preparing for war.”
The weight of the stunned silence was crushing, and I wanted nothing more than to sink into a hole and disappear. The nobles and reeves scrutinised me with their gazes, and I wondered if some of them had already figured it out: I wasn’t just of Morgana’s blood, but of Merlin’s too.
Morgana rolled her sleeves up and snapped her fingers at the servants to fill everyone’s mugs with wine before she continued. “Princess Ruby is, as Pullhelli pointed out, perhaps our best defence against the impending war. While we need to discuss the matter of King Auberon and the threat he presents, may we please finish the signing of the parchment? Or are there any other doubts?”
Cramaine cupped his chin in his palm for a moment, then signed his name and passed the parchment along. “You had me at ‘compassion for all life’, Pullhelli.” The two men tilted their heads at each other in approval.
After an excruciatingly long silence, where all that could be heard was the slight brushstrokes of the feather pen against the parchment, it had finally made its way back to Morgana’s hands. She signed it, and the lorekeeper retrieved the items from the table.
Morgana gestured at her servants again, who swiftly placed baskets of bread, oils, and fruit in front of the representatives. She sat back with her hands in her lap while her guests dug in. Like her, I didn’t touch the food. I was too nervous, and my heart was hammering in my chest. This was all my doing. If I hadn’t opened the portal, no matter my reasons, Auberon wouldn’t be here. I had wanted so badly to help my grandparents, and as it turned out, I couldn’t even do that. Now, Auberon was preparing for war on this place I had come to love so much. Lili was gone, and my grandfather was serving his sentence for his betrayal on Crochan Island. How much of this was Halwyn privy to? I would have to find the time to ask him how Llewellyn was doing when this meeting was finally over.
By the looks of things, we could be here for hours more. The representatives may have all signed Morgana’s parchment of my supposed claim for the throne, but the piercing stares I got told me that many of them were unhappy about their hands being forced to comply with their queen’s wishes. She may not have held a sword to their throats, but she was their monarch, and her word was absolute. That didn’t mean they never questioned her decisions, but as long as she was queen, they were honour bound.
“I hope everyone’s appetites are sated,” Morgana said. “I wish to carry on to the next issue at
hand. King Auberon.”
“You stripped him of that title years ago,” one of the nobles commented. “Why is he suddenly king again?”
“As I said, a queen can err. It is the tradition of the Dewinians that the crown follows the bloodline, and I should have honoured that. Auberon has done unspeakable things, but there is no denying that he is Merlin’s son, and his claim is just as valid as mine is to the Avalonian throne.”
“If not more,” another noble said through a cough.
“You wish to speak, Lord Crow?” Morgana arched her eyebrows at the lord.
“All I’m saying, My Queen,” Crow stood, waving his mug of wine about, a few drops spilling over the lip, “is that Auberon is king by blood. You, however, became queen by invasion.”
“To save Avalon,” another man said, abruptly getting to his feet. A faint shade of blue emanated from his skin. He was human.
“You would say that, wouldn’t you, Sir Galahad.” Crow put the mug to his lips and gulped down a few swallows. “The fact remains, she did not inherit the throne by blood.”
“She defeated the Nadredd,” Galahad said. “When no one else dared enter this realm to free the Fae, she did. The Fae elected her queen because they wanted her on the throne, and Merlin himself gave his blessing. Now, you tell me how that does not give her irrevocable claim to Her Majesty’s position.”
“Knight—”
“Reeve,” Galahad corrected.
“In truth, Reeve Galahad, Merlin was the rightful king to the Avalonians, and according to our beloved queen, it is the Dewinian way that blood decides the successor. When Merlin fell, Auberon’s claim on Avalon was—and is—justified.”
“He murdered Merlin in cold blood. That usurper has no right—”
“Silence!” Morgana’s voice reverberated off the walls, and the two men sank back in their seats. “Lord Crow, while you are entitled to your opinion, your arrogance will be the death of you. I should have your head for treason.” Her voice softened. “But I will not, not this day. I know you did not mean it to be a threat. You pledged your allegiance to me years ago, and I expect you to honour that.”