I know the answer. The same thing it always is. I just want to make Lord Bruz say it out loud. That way I can gauge which side of the eternal debate he falls on.
“The prophecy, Your Majesty,” he says.
“Which one?” I ask, exhaling sharply, even though I know the answer to that too. “There are so many.”
“The one about your family,” he clarifies. “About what happens at the end of your reign.”
“Right, that one,” I say dryly. “I think we both know kings are a dying breed, Lord Bruz. The humans now elect their officials. The wolf shifters still follow their Alphas, but they’re driven by instinct. There’s little use for royalty in this world.”
He mumbles something. I’m sure I offended him. He’s royalty too, just a different shade.
“I didn’t want to risk this being recorded, repeated, or softened by a screen,” he says.
“There are none here, Lord Bruz,” I growl. “Just us.”
He takes a deep breath, swallows hard, and nods.
“I don’t think the Lords and Ladies will ever agree on elections, Your Majesty,” he says carefully. “They’re restless because many believe one of their children should be the next to sit on that throne.”
“If that’s what they decide, that’s what they decide,” I growl, shrugging a shoulder. “The next king can have my throne as soon as I ascend to stand at the feet of the Twelve Gods.”
“But… Your Majesty. They won’t decide. That’s the problem. Some are preparing for war,” he says, wincing a little.
“Against me?” I raise a brow, my spine tingling with anticipation at the thought of a fight.
“No! Never, Your Majesty!” he says hurriedly. “War against each other… totakeyour throne once you’re gone.”
“They’re preparing now? I’m in my final days, I’m not dead,” I snarl.
“How long would you prepare for a war?” he asks, looking me in the eyes.
“Fuck,” I bark, shaking my head.
If the war will be in fifty years or a hundred years, a wise orc would be making preparations today. They’d hide behind a smile when they’re on video, then immediately continue plotting once the cameras are off.
“It’s not how I’d prefer to leave things after I’m gone,” I admit. “But maybe Uzrirgard has known peace too long, if orcs would turn on each other over a throne. Maybe they need a reminder of the price of war. None of them have ever paid it with blood.”
“Something we’re grateful for. Truly,” Lord Bruz says. “I don’t want a war. I stand with Lord Frax’mo.”
“Of course you do,” I snap, folding my arms across my chest. “Or rather, you stand with his wife, because that’s where all the prophecy shit comes from.”
“Not just his wife, Your Majesty,” Lord Bruz says. “More people believe in the prophecies than you may understand. There’s been… more attention on them in recent years.”
“So much attention, the Lords and Ladies are ready to fulfill the one they fear? Plunge a kingdom full of orcs who have never known war into the middle of one,” I sigh, rubbing my brow beneath my crown. It suddenly feels heavier. “If Uzrirgard fallsafter I’m gone, that’s their fault, not mine. Iwonthe war that ensured there should never be another one.”
“There are still solutions, Your Majesty. A way to stop everything. All you have to do is-” he begins and I silence him by standing up.
“No,” I throw the word across the room. “Not again. Never again.”
“If you’d just-” he tries.
“Out,” I thunder, pointing toward the door. “Tell the cowards who decided you would be the one to face me with this that they shouldn’t bother wasting fuel, their breath, or my time. I will not have this conversation again.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he squeaks, backpedaling. “My apologies.”
I’m in an extremely foul mood once he’s gone. The kind I usually only quell with grog. But that’s made me weak. Even before Clover, I let it cloud my judgment some nights.
“These fucking fools,” I say, shaking my head.
