Lord Church ignored her interruption, continuing as if she hadn’t spoken. “Furthermore, we still await the arrival of the second part of your party from Nyrundelle. It would be premature to finalize any plans without them.”
Dentarius straightened in his chair. “Premature? With all duerespect, Lord Paramount, Malchior has had his hands on half of the crown for nearly three months already. How much more of a lead do you wish to grant him?”
Elyria huffed in agreement. Dentarius leaned over to say something to Kit in a voice too low for Cedric to hear. Whispers rose from the council members still squirming uncomfortably in their seats, and Cedric got the distinct feeling that this entire meeting was only a few poorly chosen words away from exploding.
“In fairness, we do not know for absolute certain that Varyth Malchior has the crown,” Cedric offered, though before he’d even finished saying the words, he wished he could retrieve them.
Elyria’s gaze snapped to him. “You cannot be serious. Even you are not that naive.”
“I’m only saying?—”
“That Zephyr might have fucked us over on someone else’s behalf instead? Forgive me if I’d honestlyrathershe work for the Cult of Malakar’s leader than contend with the idea that there’s another evil out there waiting around the bend.”
“Our victor makes an excellent point,” offered Lord Church, the words stretching across the table. “There is simply still much that remains unknown, and?—”
“Oh, what do you know?” Elyria interrupted, every syllable sharp. “You weren’t even there.”
“Ellie.” A single note of warning rang in Kit’s voice.
“What? It’s true. If he’d been with us in the Crucible, if he’d seen what became of Ev—” She sucked in a breath, as if trying to steady herself. “If he had seen the way she stole the crown right out of my grasp, had watched the blood drip from my hand”—Cedric’s jaw tightened at the memory—“and had heard what she said, he would know there is no other conclusion to draw. To even suggest so is idiocy.” Her jeweled gaze narrowed on Cedric. “Which begs the question of howyoucan.”
“You are not the only one who feels betrayed, Elyria,” Cedric said, his voice low.
“I never pretended to be. But if last night taught us anything?—”
The king raised his palm in the air and the argument ceased, all eyes in the room instantly trained on him. “The events of last nighthaveindeedchanged things. Opened my eyes. I see now that my proclamations for unity and peace were, perhaps, too hasty. The people are wary, fearful—angry, even. They need time to adjust, or I fear last night will quickly become only the first sign of their discontent.”
There was a beat of silence. An uncomfortable shuffling. A lone cough.
Then, a thud. A shout. Ringing gasps.
And Cedric looked down to see a darksteel blade suddenly sticking out of the smooth wood of the tabletop, Elyria’s hand still curved around the hilt.
Dentarius looked like he was seconds from fainting.
“This is not just about discontentment or ‘adjusting’ to your new ideals. Last night’s attack was not enacted by fae-hating bigots who are upset about the accords,” Elyria said, the faintest wisps of shadow leaking from her fingers, trailing down the blade of the dagger. “This knife bears the sigil of the Cult of Malakar. Those men werecultists. The attack is clearly connected directly to Varyth Malchior and the fact that he does not want us here. He does not want us finding and following his trail to the crown.”
“Another thing we simply do notknow,” insisted a wide-eyed Barcroff. “The prisoners are notsanguinagi, they possess no signs of wielding blood magic. Lord Church questioned them personally, and they have revealed no ties to Malchior or the Cult of Malakar. For all we know, they could have picked up that dagger anywhere, with no clue as to its origins.”
Elyria made an exasperated sound before releasing the hilt of the dagger, leaving it embedded in the table, and slumping back into her chair.
“Precisely,” said King Callum. “I believe it to be nothing more than a symptom of my own admitted naivete in thinking the people would accept this without pain. But now I understand. They need to see our unity in action first.”
“And how do you propose to achieve that?” asked Kit, the slightest shake to her voice. It wasn’t fear straining her words though. The dark gleam in her blue and green eyes told Cedric that it was more likely a result of the restraint she was employing, resisting the urge to lash out.
“By showing the people what a partnership between Havensreach and Nyrundelle truly looks like, of course. By showing off our symbol of unity—our dual victors.”
Cedric cringed inwardly.
Elyria scoffed—very much outwardly. “I knew it. Showing us off? You expect me to, what,smile and wave? Play the part of the demure Arcanian peacemaker? With the utmost respect, Your Majesty, I am not here for their entertainment.”
The room tilted into silence.
Cedric leaned forward, eager to cut the tension. “If I may?—”
All heads turned. Cedric glanced at Elyria, then at the king, who nodded his permission.
“Perhaps there is a compromise to be found?” he said. “I do believe we all are eager to locate Malchior and the crown. Allow them to begin their investigation—with a royal escort. Surely, that would help validate the Arcanians’ presence.”
