Page 19

Chapter Nineteen

A s we burst into the council chamber, the low murmur of voices instantly stopped. Heads turned, and every councilman’s eyes were upon us, taking in our disheveled state. Dirt clung to the hem of my cloak, and Caelum’s hair was windswept and tangled, both of us looking far more suited to a battlefield than a council meeting.

Baldric’s gaze flickered over us before he forced a polite smile. “Your Highness,” he began, raising a brow, “surely you would prefer a chance to clean up and make yourself comfortable. There’s no need to rush.”

Caelum held up a hand, his jaw set. “There’s no time for a bath, Mage Emberford. What we have to discuss cannot wait.”

His firm tone caused a ripple of whispers to break out, council members exchanging glances. I had survived a visit to the fae lands and a trek across Eyre, and still the skeptical looks they aimed at me made my confidence waver.

Instead of striding to his usual place at the head of the table, though, Caelum gently nudged me forward. I dragged my feet, confused, but he leaned in close and whispered, “They’ll need to hear this from you, Eedy.”

My heart ricocheted inside my chest. He was going to make them listen to me .

“Miss Blackthorn will lead this council session,” Caelum’s voice echoed through the room, a warning rumble that cut through the chatter that had started to sprout up again. “She’s the most qualified to discuss the situation with the fae, and I expect everyone to heed her.”

The council exchanged wary glances, but at Caelum’s curt nod, they finally settled into a begrudging silence. Caelum slid into a seat off to the left of me as I moved to the head of the table, my heart pounding. The weight of responsibility pressed down on me, but I met their gazes head on, just like I knew my father would.

“What we learned in the fae realm changes everything,” I said, commanding my voice to stay steady. “The fae confirmed that my father was right. The magic does pool heavily under us in certain places—in ley lines.”

The room remained silent, their eyes locked on me as I explained what the fae had revealed: their siphoning of magic from Eyre, the gradual weakening of the magic in our land. “They gave us a deadline of the winter solstice, which is now only a day away. By then, the magic that sustains our kingdom could be beyond fixing.”

The discord began, and I let it wash over me, my gaze drifting to Caelum. He nodded, watching me with a ferocity that bolstered my confidence.

“We need to act now to pull the magic back from the fae, to divert the flow back toward Eyre somehow,” I continued, raising my voice over the noise. “But to do that, we need ideas—a way to redirect the magic before it’s lost.”

Silence fell over the council once again, each member exchanging uncertain glances.

Ronan Dunmore shifted in his seat, finally clearing his throat. “The fae’s hold on the magic is ancient and strong. How can we hope to compete if they’re set on taking it all?”

“The fae’s power is waning,” I replied. “King Thalion all but admitted it to me. We cannot let them regain their foothold by stealing the magic from Eyre.”

Another voice murmured, “Still, perhaps it’s beyond our abilities. We could damage these ley lines further by meddling.”

I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to slam them on the table. Their habit to fall right into defeat grated on me, but I forced myself to stay calm. Collected.

“We can’t give up,” I pressed. I dug deep, remembering all of Caelum’s pointed compliments that worked so well for him. “There must be something—anything—that we can do. You all are the High Council of Magi, the greatest mages of the kingdom. Surely if anyone can think of a solution, you can.”

A long quiet settled over the chamber, and my frustration grew as each passing second slipped away without a single idea, without even a shred of hope.

I glanced at Caelum, who looked equally frustrated, his fingers tapping against the table in a restless rhythm. Finally, Baldric Emberford rose from his seat. His usual confidence was absent, and he scratched at his beard, avoiding my gaze.

“There is something I must confess,” he muttered. “A few days back, I received a note from the fae king himself.”

A chill swept over me as the council members gasped, turning to him in shock.

Baldric cleared his throat and continued. “The correspondence verified this same story. So, it is exactly as Miss Blackthorn reports. But it’s hopeless. He said that soon the magic would break completely, and we’d be left stranded without any at all. Though, he offered an alternative.”

My stomach twisted. “What alternative?”

Baldric hesitated, but finally met my eyes. “He promised any mage or witch of sufficient strength could seek refuge in the fae realm. We would be tested, of course, but he assured me that I—and the rest of this council—would pass.”

“Yes, they almost forced Miss Blackthorn to stay with them for this very reason,” Caelum exclaimed, finally joining in from the sidelines. “They are weak, and yet you are tempted to abandon your duty to Eyre and join them?”

A few council members shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsettled by the revelation. Cormac Verdane coughed and glanced around the room. “Perhaps it’s worth considering,” he said. “If the magic will soon be gone here, we must think of our own survival.”

My patience snapped. “I cannot believe what I am hearing.” I could barely keep my voice steady. “Eyre is your home, and you’d give it up so easily?” Cormac flushed and looked away, but I wasn’t finished. “My father would be ashamed to see this council debating surrender to the very beings who would take everything from us. He’d never have entertained such cowardice!”

A heavy silence fell. I’d said too much, been too brash, but I didn’t care. I had to make them understand. That we must work together to fix this. I sighed, gathering up what little patience I had left.

“If my father taught me anything, it is this.” I leaned over the oak table, sweeping my gaze to each mage in the room. “No matter what the circumstances are, or how hopeless a situation might be, we all have a choice. Always .” My fiery stare ended on Caelum, his face taut and his eyes misty as he witnessed my desperate plea. “And those choices make us who we are,” I said to him, to them, to the whole realm.

To my amazement, some of the councilmen were shaking their heads in approval, in agreement with me . The tide in the room shifted, the fear and the anxiety morphing into determination and resolve.

But when my eyes passed over Baldric, his expression had grown darker, and he stood up once more, his lips pressing into a thin line. “As wonderful as that line of thinking sounds, Miss Blackthorn, your father was not as loyal to this council as you seem to believe. In fact, he was planning to resign from the council entirely before he passed. That’s why we’ve hardly taken your place here seriously. He’d already lost faith in us—in Eyre’s High Council of Magi—long before you stepped in. So, in truth, maybe he would have been the first to join the fae.”

His words struck me like a blow to the stomach, my breath catching as my mind reeled.

“You’re lying,” I whispered. Baldric’s expression slackened with pity.

I turned back to the rest of the councilmen, the ones who had just been looking at me with true heart in their eyes only to find them all staring down at the fascinating oak table before them.

I stumbled backward. All this time, I’d been fighting to uphold my father’s legacy, to keep his work alive. And yet, he’d planned to leave it all behind? To quit the fight and abandon it?

“I’m sorry, Miss Blackthorn. But it’s the truth.” He shook his head. “Perhaps, we should have told you from the start. If you’d known, you wouldn’t have burdened yourself with a fight that was never yours to begin with.”

The council resumed its quiet chatter, as if my father’s legacy and my own rousing efforts moments before had meant nothing to them. The walls were closing in, their judgment crushing, and I couldn’t bear it another moment.

Without another word, I turned, my steps hurried as I made for the door. The betrayal, the confusion—it was too much.

As I rounded the corner of the large oak table, a hand reached out, warm and steady, catching my own and halting me in my tracks.

Caelum’s gaze held mine, his eyes a raging sea of blue, reflecting a pain that echoed my own. For a moment, I let him see everything—the hurt, the grief, the disappointment. His fingers tightened around mine, a wordless understanding between us.

But it was not enough.

My heart was collapsing inside of my chest, and I needed to get out. I pulled my hand away, not trusting myself to speak, not trusting anything that fell within these walls anymore. Without another glance, I walked out, leaving behind the council and every hollowed out hope I’d carried in with me only moments before.