Page 42 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)
Chapter Thirty-Five
A handful of hours later, Sterling and I settle into the plush chairs of my public sitting room.
We have enough seating for a full family dinner, a council meeting, and a quilting circle all at once.
The chandeliers overhead are fully lit, and a tray of cold meats, cheeses, and melon slices sits between us so we can graze without needing to clear the table.
Across the room, Astrid perches at the writing desk along the east wall, chestnut waves partially pinned back. Her quill hovers over the parchment as she readies to record our plans.
Sterling leans forward, body tense. “Let’s start with Celeste. What exactly was she working on in the apothecary?”
I rub my temples, a headache forming behind my eyes. “Let’s wait for the alchemist’s evaluation.” Until then, I can cling to the tiny sliver of hope that I’m wrong about the eyril.
“What about repairing the damage from yesterday’s drachen attack?”
“We’re currently filling the holes with ice, but that’s just a short-term patch job. The stone masons are working on building the rigging we’ll need to move the broken pieces back into place.” I sigh and gaze out the tall windows at the ruined courtyards below. “Any ideas?”
A slow smile spreads across his chiseled face. “Actually, yes. We rebuild with fresh stone but leave the rubble piled high in containers throughout the courtyard. It will provide ammunition for the earth elementals if any drachen return.”
“Brilliant.” I turn to Astrid, who’s scribbling away. “Please, write up that order and have it delivered to the guards to disseminate. We don’t want them to have to work twice, moving things back and forth.”
As Astrid bows her head in acknowledgment, a wave of self-recrimination crashes over me. How could I have been so blind as to let Celeste infiltrate the royal council?
Sterling must read my thoughts, because he reaches out to squeeze my hand. “The council was the perfect place for her. It kept her busy and out of the real work.”
A surprised laugh climbs up my throat. “That’s exactly why I put her there originally. To watch her like a hawk.” I purse my lips. “For all the good that did.” I glance over at Astrid. “Let’s keep that between us, shall we?”
While Rhiann recommended her, I can’t help but worry about her discussing things with her family or friends. I know she grew up in the palace, even if I’m not sure of her family line.
Astrid glances up, her round face earnest. “Of course, Your Majesty. I never repeat what you say. Only what he says,” she gestures cheekily at Sterling, “and only to you.”
Sterling’s jaw drops, and he puts a hand on his hip in mock exasperation. “You wound me, Astrid.”
The doors to my suite burst open with a bang, and we all jump as the council storms in.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I gesture to the plush sofas and armchairs. “Please, come in. Make yourselves comfortable.”
Serle, already halfway into a seat, has the decency to look abashed at his presumptuousness.
The noble-born, at least, remember their manners.
Duchess Breann dips into a graceful curtsy. “Your Majesty, pardon our intrusion.”
The others belatedly follow suit.
I wave them off, impatient to get to the point. “What brings you barging into my apartments today?”
“It’s an outrage!” Serle blusters, blue eyes sparkling with anger. “Arresting Celeste without cause.”
Nira scoffs, flicking a sheet of shiny brown hair over her shoulder. “Without cause? Do you really think the queen didn’t have reason? I want to know what that viper did to land herself in the dungeons. It’s about time, if you ask me.”
The council descends into bickering, half enraged by my actions, half gleefully speculating about Celeste’s crimes. I pinch the bridge of my nose, a headache building behind my eyes.
Finally, Fenton pointedly clears his throat, and the noise dies down.
I flash him a grateful smile before addressing everyone. “I’ve had doubts about Celeste’s intentions from the beginning. Her advice, her actions, they never quite rang true. Something always felt…off.”
Bron leans forward, hands clasped. “What finally convinced you she was a traitor?”
I decide to keep it to myself that I only just recently put all her actions together. “We found her skulking about the apothecary with vials of some sort of concoction.” A scandalized gasp ripples through the room. “She claimed she was attempting to cure corruption.”
Vicar Moise shakes his head and offers a placating smile that reveals both dimples. “One needn’t have a corrupted creature to seek a cure. Antidotes can be tested on tainted meat, spoiled water.”
As he rambles on, I massage my temples, doubts swirling in my gut. Celeste’s face flits through my mind, her grin vulpine as she taunted me.
The councilors erupt into frenzied chatter once more, voices overlapping in a discordant symphony of dissent. Breann reminds them I don’t need proof or even cause to arrest anyone, let alone a person I believe to be a traitor. Serle insists that doing so would appear despotic or hysterical.
“Lark was right to imprison her.” Dalya slams a fist on the arm of her chair in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.
Serle leaps to his feet, cheeks ruddy with indignation. “Nonsense. Lady Celeste offered valuable insights?—”
“Careful, Serle. I’d watch my tone if I were you.” Sterling’s voice is deadly calm and a stark contrast to the warning in his eyes.
Steepling my fingers in front of my chin, I shoot Sterling a grateful look before responding to Serle. “Name one. One single piece of good intel we couldn’t have gotten from scouts.”
The earl’s mouth snaps shut, eyes darting as he racks his brain for a rebuttal.
“Everyone deserves a fair trial.” Moise bobs his head with every word. “Even outsiders.”
“Celeste has no rights here.” Nira scowls so hard at the vicar, I half expect him to combust. “She’s not a Tirenese citizen.”
The squabbling swells, each council member desperate to declare their opinion.
I slump back in my chair, kneading my brow as the ache between my eyes intensifies.
This is precisely what Xenon wants. To sow dissonance and discord, to splinter Tirene from within. Every petty dispute, every heated debate is another chink in our armor, another foothold for our enemy to exploit.
Breann’s lilting voice cuts through the cacophony. “What’s done is done. Our focus should be on recovery. Tending to our wounded, rebuilding what was lost…”
“Agreed.” Bron strokes a smooth cheek, accentuating his youth. “We need emergency provisions. Temporary housing for the displaced, new wells to replace those destroyed?—”
“Food and water should be our priority.” Serle shoots a cautious glance at Sterling. “We can’t rebuild on empty bellies.”
Moise shakes his head in a serpentine motion. “Sanitation and clean water take precedence. Disease will fell us quicker than hunger.”
As the council devolves once more into bickering, I drop my face into my hands with a ragged exhale. Xenon needn’t bother conquering Tirene. At this rate, we’ll tear ourselves asunder without any assistance from him.
A heavy arm settles around my shoulders, cocooning me in much needed warmth. The familiar scent of leather, soap, and spice invades my senses. I glance up to see a muscle twitch near Sterling’s temple.
“Listen up.” His commanding tone silences the squabbling councilors. “Our first priority is to identify anyone who came into contact with any drachen. We need to ensure they haven’t consumed eyril.”
Serle scoffs. “Eyril? That foul weed doesn’t grow in Tirene. And rumor is King Jasper, gods rest his soul, destroyed the stores years ago. I fail to see the concern.”
“Oh, there’s still eyril in Tirene.” Dalya picks at a nail, expression unreadable. “Entire stashes that never got destroyed.”
Sterling stiffens beside me. “Care to enlighten us?”
Dalya’s gaze snaps to Sterling’s. “I was at the tavern one evening and overheard a couple of patrons. I’m fairly certain the guy there is selling it for money.”
Rafe scrunches his brow in confusion. “What I don’t get is why any Tirenese would buy eyril in the first place. We don’t need it to use our magic.”
“No idea.” Dalya shrugs, once again picking at her nail. “One of the guys said something about a rumor he heard. Claimed eyril protected people from the drachen. Or at least enhanced their magic while fighting them.”
My blood runs cold as realization slams into me like a physical blow.
My mind races, piecing together the fragments of a sinister puzzle. If eyril tainted our water supply before the drachen attack, the entire kingdom could be at risk of corruption. And let’s not forget Celeste tinkering in the apothecary with what was almost certainly eyril.
“Someone’s been spreading those rumors intentionally.” I lurch to my feet, Sterling’s arm slipping from my shoulders. “Dalya, would you recognize those men if you saw them again?”
She shoots me a glance that says do I look like an idiot before nodding. “Of course.”
Ignoring that expression, I start to formulate a plan. “Excellent. Tonight, I need you to find those men and confiscate their eyril. Take Rafe with you.”
For once, Rafe doesn’t argue, and though I can’t be certain, I think admiration flickers across his face as he and Dalya agree.
I scan the room, meeting the gaze of every other council member. “Does anyone else have an idea of where to search for additional eyril stores?”
“Perhaps the gods will give us wisdom.” The vicar gestures to the heavens. “I will petition their assistance.”
By some miracle, I manage to cover the snort that threatens to escape. I’d be willing to bet all the jewels in Tirene’s coffers the vicar has never called on the gods a day in his life.
The meeting continues as we discuss where any contraband eyril could be.
It’s not until my head hits the pillow later that night that I realize I never spoke with Eldor about his research.
Tomorrow. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.