Page 5

Clarissa

L ark, my mother, and I met Chaz, another one of my close advisors and former Sentinels, outside my chamber doors as we headed to the council meeting. Chaz greeted us with a dip of his chin and fell into line behind Lark, wheeling her chair down the long corridor.

“About time,” he said in his deep voice. “I thought I was going to have to bang down the doors to get you to come out.”

“We’re not even late, Chaz.” I smoothed down my blue pantsuit. “Stryker can wait five whole minutes for me to walk across the wing.” We continued down the hall and descended a flight of stairs, striding along the deep green rugs that muffled the sound of our footsteps.

“It’s not just him,” Chaz said as we neared the council room. “They’re all a bit antsy. What’d you do to them?”

I furrowed my brow. “Nothing. What are you talking about?”

Mother cleared her throat beside me. “That’s what I wanted to tell you, dear. This meeting…well, I heard rumors from some of the wives. You know how we talk.”

We came upon a pair of large wooden doors. Before I could question her further, two guards gripped the iron handles and pulled them open.

Something soured in my gut. I thought I knew what this meeting was about—the lords on my council had been trying to convince me for a while now to take a trip to Mysthelm, the kingdom to our south, to meet with their new king after the previous one died unexpectedly at the end of last year.

Relations between the Veridian Empire and Mysthelm had been…

well, nonexistent for the past three hundred years, ever since the great War of Beginnings made us enemies.

It was a deadly, gruesome war between our two lands over the magic of the Fates, and when we won, nobody ever heard from our neighboring kingdom again.

Until last year.

I was on board with the idea of visiting Mysthelm. It would be a good way to usher in a new era of peace, not just within our borders, but across the world as well. I didn’t want us to keep harboring such animosity over a war that happened centuries ago.

But the way my mother was talking…I got the feeling there was something I was missing.

I hated when that happened.

Chaz rolled Lark through the double doors, but my mother stopped me at the last moment with her hands on my shoulders. “Remember, if this isn’t what you want, there’s no shame in denying their request.”

“Mother, what are you talking about? I’ve already said I'll go to Mysthelm.”

She licked her lips worriedly. “Clarissa, it’s not only that. The council has?—”

“Ah, there you are, Aris,” a slimy voice said from inside the council room. Everen Stryker. That man always made my hackles rise. “Considerate of you to join us.”

The seven members of the all-male council reclined at a round table, several with glasses of water or pieces of parchment before them.

I ignored the pale, sniveling face of Stryker directly to my right and nodded to the three oldest men sitting to the left of the entrance.

Lords Leighton, Temvaren, and Cabot served at my father’s side over twenty-eight years ago and still respected his reign.

They were some of my strongest champions when I made a bid for the throne.

The other four were remnants of Theodore Gayl’s time, including Everen Stryker.

The four of them had given some pushback, but none more loudly than him.

They all seemed to still be of the mindset that Gayl’s idea of dominance over others by strength and magic were the best way to keep our empire protected.

I thought a couple of them might be coming around to my way of thinking, but these past eight months had been like pulling teeth.

Especially when arrogant bastards like Stryker were in their ears every day, whispering of my fragile state, my “weakened, feminine mind,” my vulnerability masked as compassion.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to appoint new members or remove old ones until my year was up. I had to be content with dreaming of tossing them off the west tower.

I pasted on my respectful smile, falling easily into the demeanor I’d established as leader of the Sentinels. Calm, poised, collected. Ready to take anything the world had to offer. Holding back the tumultuous sea of emotions that was always at the surface of my Shifter half.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” I said, taking a seat in the tall, wingback chair. “Are there any updates from the provinces to report?”

I always started with the same question. Gayl had evidently not been as concerned with the week-to-week operations of the six provinces, leaving many of them neglected and left to fend for themselves. No funding, no support, no aid when disaster struck.

That was one of the first things I changed.

I appointed one council member to each province, plus one to the capital, with the responsibility of staying in communication with the governor of their assigned province.

I wanted the provinces to feel important, that their grievances and triumphs alike were being heard and looked out for.

“Feywood has informed me that some of their greenhouses on the border with Iluze have become spoiled in recent weeks.” Lord Cabot stroked his dark, silver-flecked beard as he spoke, his umber forehead creasing.

“They think foul play is involved, so I’ve advised them to set up a guard rotation to ensure nobody is sabotaging their crops. ”

Feywood and Iluze, two provinces to the west of Veridia City, had gone through periods of tension over the past decade.

I hoped it wasn’t a coordinated attack. We’d been working on improving relationships between all the provinces.

The Alchemists of Feywood would be in an uproar if they believed someone was targeting their greenhouses, which grew all kinds of herbs and charms they needed for spellcrafting.

Lord Temvaren went next. “The drought in Celestria doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. They’ve requested more aid. They’ve yielded a tenth of the crops since the beginning of summer, and they’re growing desperate.”

That was concerning. Agriculture was the main occupation in the usually temperate province of Celestria. “What can we spare to send?” I asked.

“Well, I suppose I could have a cargo ship stocked with at least two weeks’ supply of food for now, and we can reevaluate as needed,” Temvaren responded, his large red mustache bobbing as he scribbled notes on his paper.

A scoff came from my right, and I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back a snarl.

Everen Stryker’s voice rang out in the chamber.

“Why should we send them food our people have toiled over? Don’t they have fisheries?

Animals? Surely, they can hunt enough to provide.

You’re coddling a lazy province, Aris, and they’re going to grow dependent on our aid. Gayl would never have agreed to this.”

Emperor’s tits, if I heard that one more time…

I rested an elbow on the table and brushed a finger across my lower lip, suppressing the anger boiling inside me.

I was used to dealing with conflict. Used to dealing with people .

And I knew the difference between those who sparked conflict out of genuine concern and those who liked to hear themselves talk.

“You know, I bet they are lazy. I wonder, Lord Temvaren,” I said without breaking eye contact with Stryker, “do you think the Celestrians are just sitting at home, watching their children wither away from starvation?”

Temvaren cleared his throat. “Err…no, Your Majesty.”

“Then where are they?” I asked in mock concern. “I thought they were a lazy province.”

Temvaren’s lip twitched as he picked up on what I was playing at. “Reports say they’ve been working overtime at the docks and ranges, trying to make up for the loss. There aren’t enough weapons for everyone who’s come out to help.”

“ Interesting . What I’m hearing is that in the middle of an unprecedented drought, they’re doing everything they can to feed an entire province without their main source of food.

I believe we can spare two weeks of supplies, don’t you?

” I smiled at Stryker. “And, Lord Temvaren,” I added, “send some more weapons and fishing gear. If our people want to work, they should have the resources to do so.”

“It will be done.”

“Good. Anything else?” I asked the table, ignoring Stryker’s bloated, purple face as he glared at me.

I didn’t miss the shadows that leaked from his feet and hands beneath the table, slowly making their way to me.

Lord Stryker’s family hailed from Tenebra, the southern province of Shadow Wielders.

His shadows always appeared when he was particularly perturbed.

Nodding to Lord Griffen, the horse Shifter who sat directly across from me in his purple suit, I asked, “Any news from Drakorum?”

His eyes slid around the table, then landed at his hands. His wild mane of hair wavered as he shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. Scarven still refuses to speak with me.”

I expected as much. The Shifters and their governor, Kane Scarven, refused to have anything to do with me and my new way of running things. They preferred Gayl’s way. Hands off the provinces, letting them do whatever they wanted, and keeping strong divisions between the weak and the powerful.

I wondered if Stryker and Kane Scarven traded notes on how to be the bigger pain in my neck.

“I appreciate you continuing to try,” I encouraged Lord Griffen, giving him a soft smile. “They’ll come around.”

“Speaking of coming around,” Lord Cabot interjected.

“We wanted to discuss the idea of you traveling to Mysthelm.” He exchanged a glance with Lord Leighton next to him, and for some reason, that look made my stomach twist into knots.

“Mysthelm’s correspondence team sent word on their recent trip here.

There has been a…slight change of plans. ”

I took in the faces of the council, my heart sinking when I saw the smirk on Stryker’s face. “What, exactly, has changed?”