Page 21

Laurel

The strongest of light channelers can create weapons from the light, carefully honed intense beams that will slice through almost anything. The ability is rare, and very few light channelers throughout history have been able to actually fight with these weapons. Conjuring them quickly and consistently in battle takes extreme strength and control.

The Unabridged History of Magical Orders, Volume I

The Council chamber is thick with tension. The guards on duty at the palace cells immediately reported to Carex that they saw the rebels break out prisoners, and that the rebel group knew exactly where to go. Carex acted quickly, accusing the Velmarans of aiding the rebels. When he tried to arrest them, I reminded Carex and the Council that, as Velmaran citizens, we weren’t technically permitted to arrest them. I’m not even sure if that’s true, but stating it confidently worked—a strategy I’ve learned to deploy well in my time as Queen. I suggested that we instead detain them in their rooms until we can ascertain what happened.

They are there now, with six of Carex’s best guards keeping watch. Carex, Admon, Aria, Margery, Nathaniel, and several other advisors sit around me in the Council chamber, listening to the guards recount what happened down in the cells.

“There were three rebels,” a guard reports. “We didn’t notice them until after the prisoners had been broken out. They waited for us to make our rounds of the lower levels. They knew our rotation schedule and waited for the exact moment we left. The bars of the cells were bent wide enough for the prisoners to walk right out. They had to have had a powerful metal channeler with them. None of the metal channelers in our Royal Guard can even make a dent in the bars in that prison with all the iron around.”

“And the Velmarans just so happen to have the most powerful metal channeler in history here in Thayaria,” Carex adds. I give him a reprimanding look, one brow raised.

“Please, continue,” I say to the guard. “What happened after you found the opening in the cell?”

“We heard them running north, so we followed. The prisoners still had iron cuffs on their wrists, so they wouldn’t have been able to channel. The other three rebels sent plants to bind us. Then a metal channeler took all our weapons out of their sheaths and pointed them at us. We couldn’t follow, we swear. We were bound tightly and weren’t strong enough to counteract their magic. But… Your Majesty, they went out through the secret passages that open up on the other side of the mountain.”

I nod. “Thank you. I understand. You won’t be punished for their escape.” Carex tries to interrupt, but I speak over him. I won’t have these guards face his wrath when I planned this heist and did indeed send the most powerful metal channeler alive after them. “You’re dismissed. Take the evening off to rest.” Carex glares at me. They leave the chamber, and I sigh loudly, rubbing my temples. “We’ll have to cut off access to the palace through those passages. Can we send someone to blast the tunnels and collapse them?”

Nathaniel nods and leaves the room to execute my request.

“Your Majesty, the Velmarans are clearly behind this,” Carex accuses, anger in his voice. He stands and points aimlessly, as if that will emphasize his point. “They have the magic to have found those passages, snuck the rebels in, and broken the prisoners out. Not to mention, I did not see Prince Hawthorne’s advisors most of the night. They left the ball and only appeared later. I’m sure of it.”

“I saw both Silene and Fionn several times throughout the evening, Carex,” I lie. I hate it, but it’s necessary. “They likely kept a low profile in order to overhear conversations between the court and gather information for Prince Hawthorne. It’s what I would have done in their shoes.” I deliver the last line flippantly, as if it’s so obvious it’s barely worth mentioning.

Carex looks me over closely, eyes narrowed. I feel his scrutiny and suspicion, but I don’t break, keeping my cool mask of neutrality. He continues. “It may not have required the metal channeler to be physically present. He could have bent those cells and held those weapons from the courtyard.”

I laugh, cold and sneering. “I can assure you, Carex, even I couldn’t achieve that.” Not true . It would take barely a thought from me, but he doesn’t know that. I’ve kept the depth of my power hidden from even those closest to me—lovers and friends included—still haunted by the warnings my parents gave me as a young child. “Next you’re going to suggest Prince Hawthorne used light channeling to hide them as they snuck down to the cells and back.” Giving him the truth so sarcastically should redirect him.

He pauses for a moment, looking at the other advisors for help. Aria speaks up. “Your Majesty, while it appears we’ve ruled out the Velmarans assisting the rebels physically, we still cannot rule out the potential that they helped the rebels in other ways. They may have provided information about how to get in and out of the palace. Those passages out of the prison are a closely guarded secret amongst the Council.”

Carex looks at her gratefully. “Aria makes an excellent point, Your Majesty. They may have explored the palace under cover, then passed that information to the rebels.”

“And how do you suppose they would have contacted the rebels? Even our best spies haven’t uncovered their leaders or meeting places. You think the Velmarans have done better in a few weeks than our spies have done in years?” I ask, desperately hoping to redirect them away from the topic of how the rebels could have found out about those passages. It’s the only weakness in my plan, and I knew I’d need to be careful not to let them ask too many questions about it.

Aria considers my point carefully. “That’s true. That being said, we need to be cautious. With this and the prior attack on the palace, the rebels are growing bolder.”

“I too am concerned by these developments. I’m only trying to prevent further strikes,” Carex says softly. The guilt in my gut grows. He’s a good Captain, and this is going to weaken him politically with the other advisors. Regardless of who was behind it, the rebels breached the palace on his watch. Even if it was his own Queen who organized it.

“Carex, I will question the Velmarans, if that would assuage your concerns about their involvement,” I offer to make peace with him.

“They will lie. It’s a waste of time,” he scoffs.

Admon jumps in, voice soft and intense. “I believe Her Majesty means something a bit different when she refers to questioning them. She has exceptional power that can make people talk with the right… encouragement .” The idea that Admon is the one to explain that I’m offering to torture the Velmarans nearly makes me laugh at the stressful absurdity of this situation.

Carex’s eyes widen, and he looks at me with fear written across his features. Despite the decades that have passed since we were together, that fear still makes my heart sink with shame. It’s the real reason our relationship couldn’t go further than it did. At his core, Carex is afraid of me.

Carex nods, swallowing slowly. “Yes, Your Majesty, I think that would be prudent, if you believe it won’t hurt relations with the Velmarans too much if it turns out they are innocent.”

I wave my hand. “I don’t care what they think of my questioning. I don’t give a damn what relations are like. They’re only here so Nemesia has access to the Velmaran archives.” As I aerstep away, I find myself questioning the truth of that statement. Do I care what the Velmarans think of me?

They’re seated at the dining table and startle when I appear. I hold a finger up to my mouth to tell them to be quiet. Gathering aether around me, I will the air to distort our voices just slightly so the guards outside the doors can’t make out our words.

Fionn stands, anger and fear in his eyes. “What the hell are you playing at, witch ?” he hisses. “Why have we been arrested, or detained, or whatever the hell you call this?” I don’t flinch at the insult, not after three hundred years of those barbs, but it still stings.

Hawthorne puts his hand on Fionn’s shoulder, forcing him to sit. “What I think Fionn means, Your Majesty, is that we’re confused about what’s going on. Please, enlighten us.” Hawthorne looks at me, the smallest hint of uncertainty in his olive eyes. Silene also looks unsure, her bubbly aura dampened. I sigh.

“I’m sorry. I swear, this was not part of my plan. I didn’t expect Carex to take such quick action. I knew it was a possibility he would suspect you, but he’s been trying to grab more power on the Council as of late, and I believe this is somewhat political in nature. Though I cannot fault him for his actions or suspicions. He is, after all, correct about your involvement.”

“What happens now?” Hawthorne asks.

“I’ve convinced most of the Council that you’re innocent. They believe I’ve come here to question you. Meaning, torture you for information.” They visibly tense, so I quickly add, “Which is just a ruse, obviously.” I can’t help the small pang of disappointment that they so readily believed I had turned on them. But it doesn’t matter, because I will have to turn on them at some point, even if it’s not today.

Hawthorne smiles, always the one to project confidence for the others. “Then I guess we need to put on a bit of a show for those guards out there.”

They take about fifteen minutes to really trust that I don’t actually intend to torture them, but once they see it’s all for show, they lighten up. We spend another hour stifling our giggles as we make nonsense noises. Hawthorne, Fionn, and Silene moan in mock pain, and I say the most outrageous things I can think of in a firm voice, knowing the guards can’t hear the actual words we speak, just the tone.

“Faustus the Fighting Fae once fell while flatulating ferociously from fishy fennel fritters,” I say in a menacing voice, aether lacing my words. All three fall to their knees, both from silent laughter and the compulsion of the monarch magic. Even Fionn is enjoying himself.

My eyes meet Hawthorne’s, and I swear some kind of spark passes between us, like our magic is reaching out to one another. His eyes widen before he frowns, about to say something. I don’t want to talk about whatever connection seems to make my magic react so strangely around him, so I decide it’s time to end this. I straighten and stand tall, rolling my shoulders back.

“That should be enough. I’ll return to the Council and assure them you weren’t involved. You should probably look a bit nervous and broken for the next few days. I’m not known for kindness or mercy in these situations.” After the words are out of my mouth, I regret them, not wanting them to know the truth of how far I’m willing to go to protect my people.

Silene and Fionn nod, but Hawthorne approaches me. “Laurel, wait,” he says. I look at him, and his fingers twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to touch me. The thought makes my stomach flutter. I give him an expectant look. “I just wanted to tell you, I meant what I said during our dance. I would love to train with you. I know you can channel light after tonight’s little show, but I haven’t seen you use any of the advanced techniques. Perhaps I could even teach you a thing or two.” He winks, and I can’t stop the smile that follows.

“As I said, I’ll think about it, princeling.” Then I disappear.

It’s been a week since the ball, and I’ve received reports that the Velmaran ambassadors have been scarcely seen. Rumors swirl they’re licking their wounds after my hour with them. What they’ve actually been doing is trying to get an audience with the Sons and Daughters’ leadership, sneaking out using Hawthorne’s light channeling to remain inconspicuous. Based on the short missives they’ve had delivered to me, the rebels are being dodgy about when and where they’ll introduce Hawthorne to their leaders.

I’ve stayed away from them, preferring to get their updates via letter. I told them I was too busy to meet, but the truth is that I’m feeling too many conflicted emotions in their presence. Hawthorne was too handsome, too charming, too perfect at that ball, and the way my body reacted to his is not something I want to repeat. I’d enjoyed the way his hand had felt splayed across my bare back, had wanted to impress him with my magic. When Silene returned and I’d seen him kissing her, a host of emotions swirled through me. I cannot afford to get distracted right now with the mole and the rebels and whatever Mazus is planning.

To keep myself away, I’ve spent my time questioning every spy we have in our network, trying to gather any tidbit of information that might help me uncover the identity of the mole. Using the aether-voice to force them to confess, I’ve crossed a line I swore I’d never cross—using the aether-voice on those loyal to me. Despite the temptation to use the same tactic on every advisor until I’ve uncovered the mole, I have to keep that boundary in place, for my sense of self-worth. So far, I’ve come up completely empty-handed. Whoever the mole is, they’re covering their tracks well. It’s aethers-damned frustrating, and it’s only a matter of time before word reaches Carex that I’ve been questioning the spy network. Though I was careful with what I asked and didn’t reveal I was looking for a mole, Carex is bound to come to me with questions.

Seated at my desk with Lunaria curled up at my feet, I look out at the city from my window view, hoping to find some miraculous clue far off in the distance. The landscape is still green, but winter has fully set in. The air is frigid. It won’t be long before all the trees and other plants undergo their brief period of death before re-blooming. A sharp rap on the door stirs me from my thoughts and aimless staring. I cautiously open the door, then fling it open wider when I see Admon standing there.

“Admon, I wasn’t expecting you. Did I forget a meeting?”

“No, Your Majesty,” he says with a bow. “I’m leaving a committee meeting and desired your company. Will you begrudge an old man a cup of tea?”

My lips form a soft smile. After the war, when I was still finding my way as a ruler and grieving the loss of my parents and my sense of self, Admon would show up to surprise me often, claiming the way my magic could heat a kettle of water made the tea better than any he’d ever had. We both knew it was his attempt to provide me with company and support without overstepping. We haven’t had tea together like this in a long time. I wonder what has him reaching out in this way now—what flaw he sees in me that needs his guidance—but I welcome him all the same.

“Come in, Admon. I’ll heat some water.” As he crosses the threshold, Lunaria stands abruptly, eyeing Admon suspiciously. He keeps his gaze on her as he sits in a chair, expression neutral and unafraid. She’s skittish around others, and the hiss she gives Admon is nothing new. Yowling her displeasure, she disappears into my bedroom.

When the tea is finished, I hand Admon a steaming cup. He takes a sip and makes an appreciative noise.

“Just as good as I remember it,” he says with a smile. I only shake my head and drink from my own cup. “How are you doing, Laurel? Without Nemesia?” As usual he gets to the heart of my troubles with no preamble. I want to say I’m fine, but he knows better, so I give him the truth.

“I miss her, and I’m worried we won’t be able to stop the rebels without her. I’ve never been any good at offensive strategies. She’s the smart one.”

His eyes soften. “We both know that’s not true, Laurel. You’re a remarkable leader, not even considering everything you’ve been through. You have a mind for politics that I’d say rivals any of the best political strategists out there.”

My eyes sting and my throat aches, but I lock it away. He always knows what I need to hear. The recent attacks have left me feeling insecure, unsure of myself and my capability as a ruler. Not to mention all the slips with my magic and using the aether-voice so much lately. I feel like I’m unraveling. While the words don’t fully reach that place deep inside me that constantly whispers that I’m not enough, they quiet the noise, at least for a moment.

“You’re biased,” I say when I’ve gotten control of my emotions again, and he smiles with a steadiness that bolsters me. We continue speaking for another hour, chatting about potential strategies to deal with the rebels, the upcoming Abscission period, and smaller topics about the kingdom. Somehow, he navigates the conversation so that I’m reminded of what a competent and capable leader I am and how far the kingdom has come in the three centuries I’ve ruled.

“What do you make of the Velmarans?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye.

“What do you mean? I’ve barely interacted with them. I couldn’t possibly provide an opinion,” I say as my cheeks heat. He only gives me a knowing smile.

“I’ve found them to be different from what I expected,” he offers. “The Prince in particular is not who he’s been depicted as. Much like yourself.” Now his eyes practically bore into my soul, and I squirm.

“Do you think his betrothal to Miss Kalmeera is political only?” I blurt out, absolutely horrified by the question.

Admon considers thoughtfully. “The Kalmeera family is powerful in Velmara, second only to the Vicants themselves. A marriage between the two families would have political benefits for both King Mazus and Prince Hawthorne. It’s certainly a carefully considered strategic match. Whether that means it’s not also an engagement founded in love and affection, I cannot say. The two of them seem very close, though I rarely see any public displays of affection between them. Why do you ask?” Once again, his eyes sparkle, and I have to turn my face away from his to hide my reddening cheeks.

“Only curious, is all. Like you said, they seem close, but the Prince is a shameless flirt, and that doesn’t seem to bother Silene.”

“I see,” is all he says, the words filled with too much knowing. “Laurel, may I give you some advice?”

“Of course.” Admon doesn’t need to ask to counsel me.

“I disagreed with your parents’ decision to keep your magic hidden. Argued strongly with them, in fact. It was ultimately their choice, and I got behind it, as that is the role of an advisor. But it pained me—still pains me—to see how closed off and afraid of the world their warnings made you.” My body is frozen, unable to do anything but look at Admon as he makes this confession. I’m not sure where he’s going with it, not sure if I want to hear the advice that’s coming, but I listen intently to the male who has always been my teacher. “My advice is this—don’t let their warnings about what might happen if the world sees how brightly you shine scare you away from forming real relationships and alliances with the Velmaran Prince and his entourage. I sense something special in them, and I think you do too. Be cautious and smart, of course. But there may be a real alliance there if you set aside the stoicism and secrecy you think you have to hold on to.” My mouth hangs open slightly at his words. I consciously close my jaw. What am I supposed to say to that? Admon sees right through to the absolute core of who I am, and I don’t know how I feel about that. Before I can muster a reply, he stands and stretches. “Well, I’ve bothered you long enough for one day. Thank you for the tea.”

I walk him out, my mind racing as I close the door behind him. The mist barrier pricks at my consciousness, a subtle alert that someone needs to exit or enter Thayaria. Merchants. Good. All is well , it whispers to me, and I grant the access needed to whoever is trying to cross the wall.

Once again, I’m reminded of the way the mist whispered to me when the Velmarans entered Thayaria. Good. Trust. Light. Home. Somehow, I got the feeling that it was sighing in relief as they crossed. Shaking my head, I try to push thoughts of Hawthorne and Admon’s counsel aside, but my thoughts won’t stop swirling. Hawthorne offered to train with me, and that could be the perfect opportunity to get to know him.

He’s your enemy, another voice whispers, the one that sounds like my mother and father. He could see too much if you train magic with him. It would put Thayaria at risk.

But I’m curious about him, can’t keep him out of my thoughts. Nemesia would tell me that’s a reason to stay away, while Admon would apparently encourage it. And what if he could teach me something new about my magic? Could he be the key to unlocking whatever it is I need to lift the mist?

My mind made up, I walk determinedly to my desk and pen a letter inviting him to train with me tomorrow morning. I tell him to be ready after the breakfast hour in his chambers, hesitating briefly before dropping the letter into the outgoing mail pile on my desk. This is just a test, an opportunity for me to learn more about him. I’m not committing to anything. I’ll train with him, but I’ll be careful. I won’t let him get too close or see too much of my magic. And I will not let him touch me again.