Page 140 of Tale of the Heart Queen

They know he’s alive, sitting in a cell, and they want his head. But the low fae won’t be satisfied with Atlas’s death alone, and I understand. Undoing the century of damage he caused will take a long time. Laws need to be repealed. Reparations need to be made. I have no actual idea of what the finances of this kingdom look like—that has never been my responsibility—but I hope we can do something to compensate them, even though gold can never make up for the stripping away of one’s dignity and rights.

The problem is I’m already acting on a thin edge of authority, and I don’t have the power to do any of this.

A fact I’m reminded of as I sit in the council chamber to Tyr’s left as the heads of the districts continue to argue. He didn’t want to join us, but I convinced him that he needed to be here. He’s been spending most of his time working with his magic, trying to regain enough power to destroy the ark. For now, it sits safely in the study in its case. I’m not sure what he’s waiting for—how will he even know if he has enough magic unless he tries?

But Lor and Nadir said we have a bit of time, and I’m not pushing him yet.

Erevan sits across from me, and no one in this room trusts him. They know he’s the Primary now, but these nobles all hate him.

“He blew up half of my district!” the head of the Twelfth District, Virgil, shouts. “What is he even doing in this room?”

Every eye swings to Erevan, who glares at Virgil.

“You all deserved it and worse,” he says, his voice cold with fury. He’s not even trying to win them over. I sigh and rub my forehead with two fingers, trying to massage away the ache building behind my left eye.

Though Atlas initially encountered some opposition to his new rules when he took over, the nobles quickly realized that it was beneficial to have the low fae corralled and “managed.” They could pay them next to nothing to work in their homes and businesses, and any complaints were swept under the rug. They became far too comfortable with this new normal. There have been grumblings from a few corners of late, but not enough to compel anyone into upsetting the status quo.

So Erevan is right about all of it, and I understand the source of his anger, but this baiting isn’t getting him anywhere.

“You hear that?” Virgil exclaims. “How can we support a king who believes this of his most valuable citizens?”

Oh shit, that is precisely the worst thing he could say.

Erevan presses his hands to the table and stands up, leaning towards him.

“Most valuable citizens?” he hisses. “No one in this room is more valuable than anyone who lives out there.” He scans Virgil from head to toe. “In fact, I might argue the opposite is true.”

“How dare—”

“How dare I? How dare you sit here in your fancy clothes and with your fancy houses and cast aspersions on people you’ve all taken advantage of and who are just trying to survive?”

Erevan slaps the table.

“The only right thing to do is repeal every law against the low fae,” he says to a chorus of shocked whispers and gasps. “I had hoped that you sycophants would finally see reason and agree because it is the right thing to do, but the longer I sit here listening to you windbags, the more I realize you are all lost causes. You care for no one and nothing but yourselves.”

Erevan hunches forward.

“You are not the king here yet!” accuses a female High Fae—the head of District Thirteen. Or is it Fourteen?

“No,” Erevan says, “but Tyr agrees, and he is the king. In case any of you have forgotten?”

Every eye flicks to Tyr, who sits quietly with his forehead crumpled in worry. It’s actually more emotion than I’ve seen from him in a while. Tyr does agree with Erevan. I’ve been there to witness many talks the two of them have had over the past few days. Well, Erevan talks, and Tyr nods and listens, but I understand that in Tyr’s heart, he knows Erevan is right. He will free my brothers and me from our chains, and I know he wants to do the same for the people of his kingdom.

Something in me suspects he’s waiting for Erevan to come around to the idea of ruling. He’ll descend when he knows Aphelion is finally in good hands. The thought sends a cold dread spreading through my chest, but I know it’s selfish to wish he’d remain here with me. And I also want him to find peace.

“Is this true?” Virgil demands of Tyr, who opens his mouth and closes it. Though Tyr is the king, he cannot repeal laws with impunity. The council was created many years ago, and any significant decisions like this must be voted on. While technically no one could stop him, it would be of little use to repeal the laws if there is no one actually to act on his wishes.

Though he can allow the low fae to move from The Umbra, these windbags, as Erevan so eloquently put it, can’t be forced to welcome them.

“It’s true,” Tyr says in a soft voice, but if he was planning to say anything else, it’s drowned out by a chorus of shouts and condemnations.

My eye catches on the door, and I recognize Halo, one of the Tributes. Seeing her frightened face and her hands clasped, my shoulders tighten. I was afraid of this.

Earlier this morning, Tyr asked that a message be sent to Apricia requesting she return to her home in the Twenty-Fourth District. He’d spoken with the Mirror, which confirmed it had chosen her through Atlas’s deception, and it wouldn’t be right to proceed with a bonding.

In fact, every remaining Tribute was granted a pardon and told they could return to their former lives. Some might be happier about that news than others.

The Mirror told Tyr that he could hold his own Trial to determine his bonded partner at a later time. I doubt that will ever happen, but I was all too happy to have the news delivered to Apricia. I wanted to handle it myself, but then I was called to this stupid meeting.