Chapter Four
T he moment the door swung open, the chatter died, and every gaze shifted toward Prince Caelum as he—finally—stepped inside. Dressed in a dark blue, tailored tunic and polished boots, he moved with confidence as he sauntered toward the front. His blue eyes flitted about with ease, as if this meeting were only a minor interruption, and soon he could get back to being absolutely useless again.
I clenched my hands under the table, watching as the council members fumbled over themselves to pull out a chair or pour him a glass of water or offer to bring in something to eat.
He didn’t even need to say anything to be in control. Respected. It was just served up like a plump, roasted pig on a platter. And yet here I was, in a constant battle to get these halfwit mages to pay attention to a single word I said.
It was infuriating.
Still, if this highborn fool was waiting for me to grovel at his feet like the rest of these shameless councilmen, he’d be waiting until the sun burned up, until the realm froze over, until his smug, handsome face shriveled to dust...
And then he’d wait some more.
My resolve on that matter was comforting, so I crossed my arms in front of me, waiting to hear him flounder about the topic of magic.
Caelum remained standing despite multiple chairs being offered to him, letting his height over the others reaffirm his authority. “High Council of the Magi,” he addressed us, his voice smooth. “Forgive my tardiness. I was preoccupied with another task that needed my immediate attention.”
Right. I flattened my lips together so as not to have another outburst. Getting laid before noon definitely needed his full attention.
A few councilmen shifted in their seats nodding, eager to please. Baldric Emberford leaned forward with a grin. “Of course, Your Highness. We’re honored to have you here with us today.”
Caelum waved a hand with a primped smile. “The honor is entirely mine, as it always is when I find myself in the presence of such esteemed minds.”
A ripple of delighted murmurs spread across the table.
How much shameless bootlicking would I be expected to endure?
“Do you not agree, Miss Blackthorn?” Caelum asked as I finished an intense eye roll to find him staring me down.
Caught off guard by him yet again, my cheeks burned, and I fumbled with the hem of my skirts. “Of course, I...agree,” I said, my voice sounding unusually high-pitched in the deadly quiet. “There have been many bright thinkers on this council. My father being one of them.”
Caelum’s smile tightened, still the picture of diplomacy, but there was a sharpness in his gaze as it moved from me. I slumped back in my chair.
“Right,” he continued. “So, since the majority of us here are quick-witted”—he glanced once more at me, oh, the nerve —“I think we can skip the formalities and get to the heart of the matter, yes?”
He placed both hands on the table, leaning toward his audience. “Eyre’s magic is broken, and it’s only growing worse. We’ve all seen the effects. Failing crops where water mages could not summon it during a drought, outbreaks of disease when healers could not cure. And if we cannot rely on our fire mages for this coming winter, it could be brutal, especially for you Northerners.”
He turned to start a slow walk around the table as he continued. “Now, I won’t pretend to be the expert in this room. That’s why I’ve been humbly invited here—to learn from the best. But before we dive into solutions, I’d like to hear the current state of things. What do we know so far?”
There was a pause, the councilmen exchanging glances, until Cormac Verdane, one of the younger mages always eager to prove his worth, cleared his throat and shuffled a plethora of papers in front of him. “Well, Your Highness, for the past two rings, some witches and mages have found their ability to call on magic weakened. We’ve noted that the further south and east one ventures in the kingdom, the worse it gets. Villages as far as Keeve just sent word last month that they have...no access to magic at all.”
Caelum nodded, listening. But it wasn’t just his unwavering attention that had the council captivated. It was the way he tilted his head in concern, his calm demeanor, the charm in his smirk—it all worked to disarm them. There was so much more than just making a collective decision based on facts here; there was a delicate dance of politics too.
And I hated politics.
Ronan Dunmore, another councilman, nodded along while adjusting his glasses. “Perhaps the bloodlines themselves are weakening. If fewer magical unions are happening, it would explain the dilution. I know in the south, magical users only marrying each other isn’t as high a priority.”
I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to interject. They were always so concerned with keeping the bloodlines strong and pure. They couldn’t fathom that magic could be something external that we draw from, that we all pull from the same mystical vein, because that meant admitting the problem was outside of the people who used it.
Caelum folded his arms. “I’m not sure that’s it, Mage Dunmore,” he murmured. “The only facts point to it being location-based. It’s as if it’s drying up somewhere, like a river being dammed.”
I gnawed on my bottom lip, hating how he used the analogy of a river like my father always had. His eyes flicked toward me again, that same glint of knowing—of deliberate challenge—sparking behind them. I held his stare, refusing to blink.
“Now,” Caelum continued, sweeping his gaze around the room once more, “whatever is causing this disruption threatens more than just your small village here at Naohm.” His voice dropped a notch. “It threatens the entire kingdom of Eyre.”
The council nodded along, their eyes growing wide. They all knew the troublesome magic was a big issue, but the prince of the realm was now laying at their feet the consequences if they failed. Worried brows and deep frown lines erupted along each councilman’s face. They’d gone through their theories, dissected reports, and yet no real answers had emerged.
Imagine that.
Baldric cleared his throat, holding up a hand. “One possible theory, Your Highness. It could be a personal imbalance. Something we can rectify, perhaps, with”—he paused, smoothing out a nearby scroll—“a widespread burning of sage over every magic user.”
I barely stifled a groan. This highly esteemed mage thought we were going to cure magic by burning a bit of sage? Was that really the best he could come up with?
I sank deeper into my chair, fully expecting the prince to latch on to such a useless idea since his only real purpose here was to orchestrate the circus this council meeting was becoming.
But instead, Caelum rubbed his hand over his mouth while nodding, his eyes pinched tight.
Was he trying not to laugh?
The prince composed himself enough to move his palms back down to the table to drum his fingers on it, as if carefully thinking. “A noble suggestion, Mage Emberford, and certainly one rooted in tradition. However, I’m not sure we have that large a supply of sage to attempt such a task.”
The council nodded in agreement.
“Perhaps instead of jumping to herbal remedies,” he went on, “we should begin by examining any patterns we can find first. We need to understand where these disruptions are happening, when they started, and how fast they’re spreading. Think of it as a puzzle to unlock. The facts are the pieces; we just need to fit them together.”
I blinked in surprise. This was...logical. Strategic. He was effortlessly brushing off Emberford’s foolishness and redirecting the conversation in a way that made sense. And one that aligned exactly with it being tied to my father’s ley lines theory. The skin along my arms prickled at the thought.
Cormac nodded fervently. “Yes, Your Highness. A most astute suggestion. We have reports from several regions. We could easily compile it for your review in a short time.”
“I’d like a map, specifically,” Caelum replied, his tone shifting from friendly to authoritative, like a commander giving orders. “I want to see this disturbance in our kingdom. Let’s start there. We need facts before we can speculate further. And,” he added with a faint smirk, “before we start dousing all of our people in sage.”
A few council members chuckled, nodding along as if the prince had led them to the most brilliant solution.
“Well said, Your Highness,” Cormac chimed in. “We can adjourn for now, gather the necessary reports, and reconvene tomorrow to?—”
“If you’re all so interested in reports and data,” I cut in, rising from my seat to gain some semblance of attention. “I have plenty of my father’s research that ties directly with these issues.”
A hush fell over the room as all eyes turned to me, including Caelum’s. His easy smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, his blue eyes bright.
“I’m sorry, Miss Blackthorn,” Caelum said. “Does this speculative research provide an immediate solution?”
My fingers curled into fists at my side as he raised one mocking eyebrow, leering down at me, and all I could think about was how satisfying it would be to slap that look off his face.
This was not like the councilmen, with their lucid gazes passing over me as if I didn’t exist. This prince was staring right into the heart of me, challenging my very core. The storm brewing inside of me, the lightning I could barely tame each day.
Now, it struck.
“I believe if we follow it instead of needlessly delaying action so you can laze about in bed some more, it can lead to the right solution.”
Gasps and grumbles unfolded around the table.
“You forget your place, Miss Blackthorn,” Baldric Emberford retorted, his hazel eyes narrowing at me. “Show some respect.”
I clenched my teeth, but before I could respond, Caelum raised a hand, calming the appalled chatter. “It’s all right, Mage Emberford. It’s not her fault. It runs in her blood to speak ill of the royal family.”
So, it was my father’s opinion of royals that irked him. Once he’d heard my surname, I’d gone from a target he wanted to bed to having one painted on my back.
His gaze narrowed in on me once more, taunting, inviting me to dig myself deeper. “So then,” he continued, leaning forward, “you propose we chase these wild theories of your father’s instead?”
The weight of the council’s stares pressed down on me. My throat tightened, but I forced myself to stand tall, refusing to let him intimidate me.
“They’re not wild theories,” I said, my voice firm. “He spent rings researching it. He gave his life—” I paused, not wanting my voice to break with emotion right when I finally had the floor. Not while this pompous prince was trying to pressure me into shutting my mouth.
I took a deep breath. “If we don’t take it seriously, we might miss the key to solving this entire crisis.”
The room grew tense, the silence stretching as Caelum’s unwavering gaze bore into me. “Perhaps we should consider all options and take a look at your father’s speculations ,” he finally replied. “Right after we’ve reviewed the current—and corroborated—data, of course.”
A few of the councilmen chuckled, but the sting of his words hit me like a slap. The implication was clear: he had the power to brush me aside.
“Of course,” I muttered. “I’ll bring a copy over for you to review.”
Taking a seat, Caelum leaned back in his chair, clearly satisfied with his results. “Now, as we were saying, let’s meet at the same time tomorrow, and I will ensure I have my schedule cleared so as not to be late again.”
I could feel the tension building in my chest as the other mages got up to leave, my frustration boiling beneath the surface. It wasn’t just that Caelum had won them over so easily—it was how I could already see him stomping all over my father’s research.
It seemed the prince held onto grudges as tightly as he did to this calm and collected mask he wore.
Who was he, really?
A lazy and spoiled boy in fancy clothes, obviously.
I stood to leave, but a shadow crossed over me, urging me to glance up. And there he was, right in front of me, staring me down. His eyes locked onto mine—keen and calculating, as if he were trying to see straight into my head so he could use what he found there against me.
“Blackthorn, is it?” he said with a measured tone, one eyebrow raised. “I should’ve known by how you stormed into my tent.”
“I’m happy to know my name precedes me,” I said, forcing myself not to blink.
He smirked at my defiance. “Your father thought all highborns were a waste of time and air. If I recall correctly, he once said it was like farm animals were running this kingdom.”
I held my chin up, matching his glare. “So far, you’ve done little to prove him wrong.”
He leaned in closer, his eyes sparking with eagerness. “I suppose we shall see, then, who the council sides with tomorrow. I wonder how it will feel, Miss Blackthorn, to be bested by a goat.”
I crossed my arms so my pounding heart wouldn’t beat out of my chest. “I believe you’d be the pig in this analogy, Your Highness.”
He squinted at me, lip curling, until he finally huffed and sauntered out of the chamber.
I sighed, the tension draining from my body. A small smile managed to form, though I quickly let it slip away.
There was no way around it at this point: I would not be making friends with Caelum Ashford anytime soon. And if I couldn’t convince the rest of the council about my father’s research at the next meeting, they would move forward on some wild goose chase that was subject to a childish prince’s whims.
I bit the inside of my cheek. He wasn’t an idiot, though, that much was clear. He had a sharp mind, able to cut through the nonsense these rambling mages so easily fell into. But there was still that smugness, that air of superiority, as though he relished being the cleverest man in the room.
And the worst part? He just might be.
But I was no man.