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Respar was a young country, just over a hundred years old since it was recognized as such by the City of Scholar’s census.

As such, the Gailish had yet to be dethroned as the ruling family.

With that came a very single-minded set of beliefs that aligned with the nomadic tribes the founding members joined with to create Gilamorst. Despite that, it was the Julran refugees that made up half the lineage of Resparian citizens.

Very little was preserved of their history or culture beyond that, swallowed up by the tribes they melded with.

“The Tragic History of Julra” by High Scholar Yuret Wend, a well-known and respected researcher, laid open across the center of my desk as I bent over it.

Father never approved of my studies regarding Julra or its neighbor Golath, despite the blatant truth that our ancestors were theirs.

“Reading the history of failed countries is a waste of time,” he would gripe.

I begged to differ.

Knowing how those strong countries steeped in centuries of knowledge could collapse so entirely was extremely important, in my eyes.

Just thinking of how much was lost of both their cultures made my stomach churn in despair.

How much more advanced could our own studies in spellcasting be, if we knew what those countries held in their libraries and the heads of their most talented practitioners?

There could have been a solution for the side effects of my own truthsayer power. Beyond the scraps passed by word of mouth from a few displaced refugees from the Frigid War, we had no way of knowing what was lost.

My own mother could trace her family all the way back to minor Julran nobility.

That trait alone was what made her desirable to Father as a consort.

But my fondest memories—maybe the only ones worth remembering of her acting like a mother—were when she would tell me fantastical tales passed down from her mother and her mother’s mother.

Tales of practitioners who could create entire structures from the earth or move the rain to fall over a field of crops.

Some could even make giants out of ice and bring down massive balls of fire onto a battlefield.

Finding accounts in Yuret’s research that validated those stories only made me more ravenous to learn more about Julra.

Mother’s family only claimed minor nobility, no direct relation to the Hilj royal family, but I always wondered if my ancestors ever met them.

Was Princess Maura as elegant and dainty as the portraits showed her?

Was the lesser known Princept Morrette as wild and strong-willed as the refugees told Yuret in their accounts?

A little smile came unbidden to my lips, thinking of someone else who was wild and strong-willed.

Haron had fairer skin compared to the more pure-blooded Resparians like Beolf.

She could have some traces of Julran heritage in her family like I did.

Maybe that was the only connection she needed to reach out to the dead princept.

My thoughts turned to our last meeting, and my mood tumbled into a dark depression.

It had been two days since we had our falling out and she reportedly left Gilamorst. The only thing holding my sanity together at this point was the frantic effort to research everything I could about the Clifftombs, Morrette Hilj, and Julra, until Beolf could return with news from the scouting party he's taken to look for her.

Engrossed as I was in the text, the heavy knock at the door startled me from my focus. I glanced up at the clock hanging beside the closest bookcase to my left and sighed heavily. It was half past noon, and the council meeting I had already pushed back three times was in fifteen minutes.

“Come in.”

The door opened slowly, just wide enough for a guard to partially step in and bow his head. “Your Highness, Head Councilman Juril has requested your presence in the meeting hall.”

More like, he sent someone to personally escort me so I couldn’t wave them off again. I would not be led like a child, unfortunately for him. I was sure he was looking forward to the power high watching me be led into the hall.

“I am aware. The clock says I have another ten minutes. It’s not like the room is across the palace.”

In fact, it was just at the end of the hall from my study.

“Sire, the butler is quite insistent he wait—”

My patience was already thinning. “Send him in.”

“Sire?”

It was moments like this I missed Beolf’s unwavering loyalty. He would have told the guard and butler to fuck off in no uncertain terms before they even knocked on the door. “I think you heard me. Send in my escort.”

The guard looked nervous but promptly slipped from the door to allow my next victim inside. “G-Good day, Your Highness,” the new man stammered. “I… I was asked t-to fetch you for the council’s meet—”

“Do I look like I cannot read a clock?” It was unfair to chew on the butler, I knew. But if there was one thing I could not stand, it was being interrupted in my reading. And for the likes of Councilman Juril and his lackeys? Even more detestable.

“I.. uh… yes, Sire.” Now the butler was clearly sweating, fidgeting with his hands under my unblinking stare. He was absolutely drenching the white collar of his uniform. “Uh… Councilman Juril was just concerned you would forget about the meeting again and sent me to make sure you attended.”

I spent my entire childhood schooling my face, hiding my thoughts from Father, and the court, and the boring conversations at social events.

All that practice was put to good use now.

Slowly, I rose from my padded chair and moved around the bulky desk until I stood toe-to-toe with the taller man.

Even though I had to tilt my head back, there was no question between us who held the upper hand.

“You’re dismissed.”

He was likely expecting me to rip him to shreds, so the instant relief that flooded his face was almost comical.

The hop in his step as he moved out of my way reminded me of small prey when it realized the hunter missed his first shot.

Shock, mixed with self-preservation and gratitude he got to live another day, moved the butler’s feet quickly down the hall in the opposite direction from the meeting.

The sharp turn on my heel to the left startled the guard who was posted at the door, the one who let the butler in.

“Let’s go,” I snapped.

Sure, it was petty dragging along my own escort. But I was feeling particularly uncooperative now. His skin flushed a red visible even beneath his deeply bronzed complexion, clearly uncomfortable with being pulled into this little power struggle. “Should I send for General Zirch, or…”

“No, you are fine. I just need a witness.”

The guard’s nervous swallow was an audible gulp .

Our short walk in silence did nothing for the guard’s growing nervousness, his blatant fear tainting the air and setting my beast to stirring in my chest. It was an instinctive reaction for a predator to become excited at the sight of prey.

Having it so close beneath my skin would certainly help with the conversation I was about to have with the Royal Council.

As we reached the door, the guard made to open it for me, but I cut him off.

Low murmurs from the men gathered around the table cut short as soon as I stepped through the doorway.

Seven heads were bowed together and watching them all pop up at my appearance would have been comical if I weren’t so pissed off.

Councilman Ittman was the first to speak, clearing his throat and standing from the long table as the other six straightened in their chairs.

He was at the end opposite the one I was expected to take, closest to the door.

“Your Highness,” he welcomed me in. “We are honored you were able to attend this meeting. Please, sit.”

My eyes narrowed at his pleasant expression.

Ittman was not being as subtle as he thought with that little barbed greeting.

He was the only one who appeared mostly at ease, hands now tucked behind his back, with a casual smile on his youthful face.

They all wore the matching council robes over their regular clothes dyed a deep red to show their service to the crown and separate themselves from the rest of the nobles, even as they were selected from those families.

They didn’t know it yet, but I planned to change that as soon as I was officially crowned king.

Ittman’s crinkled eyes moved to the guard behind me, and he made a gesture of dismissal with a hand. “You may go, we have—”

“No,” I said plainly. “He’s fine to stay inside.”

With measured steps, I stalked across the expanse of the meeting room to take the offered seat. The slight thud followed by the rustle of a uniform told me the guard closed the door and took up a post beside it. The irritated twist of Ittman’s face was fast, but not fast enough.

“But Prince Irin, there are sensitive matters we need to discuss, and I don’t think it’s appropriate—”

The chair dragged loudly over the rough stone floor, cutting off his whining with a screech. “I read the agenda you sent a few days ago. I’m aware of what the council would like to discuss.”