Chapter Three
W hen I stepped into the chamber of the High Council of Magi later that day, the cavernous room already echoed with chairs scraping across stone and a steady stream of hushed discussion. A few heads turned as I entered, eyes flicking toward me briefly before glazing over.
The dismissive looks still enraged me, no matter how many times it happened. But this was the highest council of magic users in all of Eyre, after all. Why bother acknowledging me when they didn’t take me seriously?
The sixteen-seat council was, typically, made up of all men, each of them bearing the sign of their status: a thick gold ring etched with ancient runes, worn with pride on their right hand. They gestured with them as they spoke, the rings gleaming in the everflame torchlights I’d had installed.
And then there was me.
My father’s ring, too large for my fingers, hung on a chain around my neck. Sometimes I wore it out of duty and other times just to have something solid to hold on to when my grief was too much. More times than not, though, it felt like a millstone holding me in place than a mark of authority.
I made my way to the usual seat left for me at the end of the long oak table—the one furthest from the center. I folded my hands in my lap, forcing down the anxiety curling in my chest, reminding myself to stay calm. I was here, at least. My father had gotten me that far, even if they didn’t want to acknowledge it.
I’d arrived at the meeting on time, but the discord was already well underway. They spoke in low voices about the growing issues with the magic, but it was clear no one had any real answers. Only theories.
I waited for a pause, eager for the right moment to speak, to tell them about my own experience just this morning and how it further proved my father’s ley line theory. Heart racing, I sat on the edge of my chair, ready to cut in after a small lull in the clamor of voices when?—
The Baldric Emberford turned and looked straight at me.
One of the oldest councilmen, his silver hair hung to his collar, framing a weathered face and hazel eyes that attempted to be friendly. He seemed gentle enough, a grandfatherly figure in appearance, but I knew how easily his gaze could drift past me.
“Miss Blackthorn?” he said curtly.
The room quieted.
I wanted to point at myself in confirmation since they rarely acknowledged me, but I squeezed my hands firmly in my lap instead. What was happening? Were they asking for my opinion? Were they so desperate that they would entertain a young witch’s thoughts for once?
“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat as more of them curved their gazes in my direction. “Yes, I have some news about the magic. Just this morning, I felt the disruption when I was?—”
“Would you be so kind as to fetch the prince?” he interrupted. “It seems he’s not yet graced us with his presence.”
The words were polite, but the tone made it clear.
Fetch.
They didn’t want to hear my thoughts. I was nothing more than an errand girl to them. Even though they were the ones who had summoned this prince while I voted against it at the last meeting, it didn’t stop them from sending me . Why would it? I wasn’t here for my mind or my magic. Just for show.
No matter, I wouldn’t let them see it bother me. With my jaw clenched, I stood.
Offering a stiff nod, I turned and left the chamber, biting back the flare of resentment surging in my chest. I ground my teeth as I walked out, keeping my vulgar mutterings as quiet as possible.
This prince better be shitting his brains out on his royal throne to explain his absence, or I’d have his head.
Honestly, the fact that he didn’t have the decency to make it to a midday meeting—and the whole reason he was here in the first place—was beyond me.
The sun was higher in the sky now, though it did little to warm the chill in the air. I blinked at the sudden brightness as I made my way toward the spectacle of a tent in the distance. Mannix, who had been resting outside of the council chamber, got up to trot by my side.
It was official: a dog had better manners than grown mages and crown princes.
As I got closer to the tent, steeling myself for an unsolicited confrontation with a royal, I noticed a figure slipping out—a young healer witch who lived here in Naohm.
Her face was flushed as she hastily adjusted her cloak. Our eyes met for a moment before she pulled up her hood over her fire-red hair and scurried away.
Of course. Prince Caelum was late because he’d been entertaining visitors .
Disgust churned in my stomach. Wasn’t he betrothed to the daughter of some duke? It was becoming quite clear that his commitments meant absolutely nothing to him.
Either way, I didn’t have time for this. We had a kingdom possibly on the brink of magical collapse, and here he was, indulging in pleasures while the rest of us scrambled to keep everything from falling apart.
I marched up to the entrance of his tent, every step making my head throb, but my pride pushed me forward. I didn’t even bother announcing myself or stop to think of the scene I might stumble into. Instead, I shoved aside the gaudy tent flaps serving as a door and stormed inside.
“Your Highness, I’ve come to escort you to—” I stopped short, my mouth pressing into a hard line as I took in the sight before me.
Prince Caelum, wearing an unbuttoned linen shirt, lounged in bed on a pile of plush pillows, looking far too comfortable for someone who had responsibilities that affected a whole kingdom. He glanced up when I entered, his piercing blue eyes a mixture of surprise and amusement.
“Another visitor already?” he drawled, sitting up slowly with a wince, causing the maroon silk sheets resting over him to expose more of his toned abdomen. His blond hair was properly tousled, clearly from his most recent romp. “I didn’t realize such a small and remote area of Eyre has such a large supply of agreeable women.”
I crossed my arms, averting my gaze as every move he made caused more precarious sheet moving. I wanted to strangle him with the damn fabric, but I took a deep breath, holding my scorching anger in. This was the prince, after all. I couldn’t tell him how much of an idiot I thought he was, could I?
“You’re expected at the council meeting,” I announced. “I’m here to escort you there.”
Though I didn’t turn back to look at him, I could feel him grinning. “Escort me, you say? And here I thought the council sent you as a proper welcoming gift.”
Caught off guard, I rounded my gaze back on him. “ Excuse me?” I snarled before I could reconsider my tone.
He leaned back against the headboard with a smirk that made my blood boil, studying me more intently now that my controlled veneer had cracked.
“A jest,” he said smoothly, waving his hand at me, as if my outrage could be swatted away like a simple housefly. “Now, come. Let me entertain my newest visitor properly. We both know that meeting is going to be an absolute bore. Please, sit.” He motioned to a chair near the bed. “I insist .”
The word hung between us like a guillotine.
Insist .
An order if ever I heard one. And from the prince himself, at that. He cocked an eyebrow, upping the ante, waiting for my response, waiting for me to cave to his command and fall in line.
Fetch . Insist .
My hands curled into fists at my sides. My control was hanging by the tiniest of threads, yet, still, it prevailed.
I’d had too much practice dealing with childish men.
“As much as I would love to sit in your company,” I replied, as cold and contained as I could manage, “you’re already committed to be at the council meeting right now. You need to get dressed and do your duty .”
I let that word hang like a noose.
When I saw the subtle flex in his jaw and the smallest indent appear between his brows, I savored it with a wicked delight.
Serves him right, the condescending arse.
Much to my irritation, though, he grinned widely, and—dare I say—into a more genuine smile, a dimple appearing in his right cheek.
He tilted his head, staring at me while long fingers traced idle patterns along his silken sheets. “You’re quite the little tempest, aren’t you? All storm and spark.”
My stomach tightened involuntarily at the lowering timbre of his voice, watching the misty blue of his eyes swirl into a darker shade before he continued.
“It’s a shame you’re only here to drag me away from this very comfortable bed of mine.”
Heat flared in my cheeks, not from embarrassment but from sheer fury. I took a step toward him, but not to comply.
Oh, no.
“The only thing little about me,” I hissed back, “is my patience for highborn rakes like you .”
As soon as I said it, my eyes grew wide in disbelief.
I had just called the crown prince of Eyre a rake.
To his face.
His smile turned slick then, reveling in my mistake, staring at me like a cat who’d cornered a mouse.
“Is that so, Miss...?”
My heart still ricocheted in my chest from my outburst. I needed to escape the suffocating confines of this tent. Immediately.
“Blackthorn,” I choked out, backing up as I spoke. “Now, please get dressed and meet us at the council chamber in five minutes. I’m sure you don’t want me to have to come back and find you still in an indecent way.”
He gave me a slow, exaggerated nod, as if I were amusing him. As if he wanted to play with me more until he grew bored and ate me whole. “Something tells me it wouldn’t ruin your day to see me in a more indecent way, Tempest.”
I turned sharply on my heel, then, blood pounding in my ears, but his commanding voice followed me out of the tent.
“See you soon, Miss Blackthorn .”
I didn’t glance back, even though he said my surname with a new edge to his voice. I refused to give him the satisfaction.
Mannix trotted after me as I made my way back toward the council, grumbling at my side.
How had the prince unraveled me so quickly?
I tried to shake off the encounter, but my blood still burned from his infuriating grin, his teasing words lingering just beneath my skin like a maddening itch.
The way he’d made me shed my controlled mask and be so reckless as to openly insult a member of the royal family...I didn’t know what had come over me, but I needed to get a hold of myself.
He’d be gone soon enough when he was done pretending to have anything worthy to contribute to the magic problem. Then, if I was lucky, I would never have to see his arrogant, smug face ever again.
When I arrived back at the council and sat in my seat, they didn’t even look up from their discussion.
Good.
My head was still swimming from my haughty exchange with the crown prince of Eyre. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck, and my throat was tight.
To my surprise, however, it only took a few short minutes for the council to realize they had to interact with me once more to get the information they wanted.
“Well, is he coming?” Baldric asked, finally honoring me with a passing glance, even as annoyance flashed across his wrinkled face.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to find my control once more as I blinked away the prince’s obnoxious smirk from the back of my eyelids.
“He’ll be here soon if he knows what’s good for him,” I answered coolly.
And for the first time in that hollow, dusty room, amidst a wave of shocked councilmen faces, I smiled.