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I couldn’t remember the last time we had hosted an emissary from beyond the borders of the Seven Kingdoms within the walls of Corvo City. The western border of the allied kingdoms was an ocean as far as the eye could see, and a vast desert bordered the east. So far as I could recall, the last outsiders who had stayed in Castle Corvo had been from the Evergreen Nation, the strange land far to the north of the Seven Kingdoms, where Abilities were outlawed. How they functioned on old-world tech in place of Ability-run amenities was beyond me.
Mother had diplomats stationed in all the richest foreign lands, of course. After all, the Corvo Kingdom was the trade center of the Seven Kingdoms, making our kingdom the wealthiest and most well-connected because of our ports. Still, most of the negotiating was done via our diplomats in those distant places.
I glanced at Hills, the diminutive general of the Corvo army. She tensed the corners of her mouth and lowered her chin in confirmation that Alastor had, in fact, been meeting with dignitaries from outside the Seven Kingdoms.
“Hmmm...” I leaned forward, tapping the tip of my index finger on the oak table. We had long since pushed our breakfast plates away, leaving them clustered together in the center of the table. I stared into the last dregs of tea in my mug, counting the specs of tea leaves that had settled at the bottom and stood out against the cream-colored ceramic.
“Which kingdoms has he been meeting with specifically?” I asked, my finger continuing to tap.
“Crescent and Zenia.” Garath settled back in his chair, his leather armor creaking as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I’m still waiting on intel to identify the origin of the outsiders and to confirm Maylar’s identity.”
“Maybe it’s some of those desert people we’ve been hearing whispers about?” I said, thinking out loud. “This supposedGhost Kingand his followers?”
Rumor placed them somewhere on the fringes of the Seven Kingdoms, but I had yet to hear any concrete evidence that they actually existed. None of the southern kingdoms had the military resources or manpower to spare on scouting so far beyond their borders with the Sierra Kingdom openly readying for war from their fortress in Mantis. So long as I kept Alastor and his father, King Eduart, happy, Corvo City wasn’t in immediate danger. Their forces freely moved across our kingdom’s borders but not with Corvo City as their target. King Eduart wanted control of our ports, but at the moment, he seemed content with using Alastor to ensure the Sierra Kingdom had a say in our trade relations. Which meant his sights were turned to the other kingdoms bordering us, and they all lived in constant fear of invasion.
“Where did all this happen?” I looked up from the lukewarm tea. “Ironwood Keep?”
Garath shook his head. “A tavern in Mantis.”
Which meant either King Eduart didn’t know about Alastor’s secret meetings, or he knew but wanted the rest of us to think he wasn’t involved in whatever Alastor was plotting. I considered reaching out to the Sierra king through one of Garath’s people to feel him out, but the relationship between our two kingdoms was increasingly tense, hanging by the ever-thinning thread that was my marriage.
What a joke. I might have laughed if I wasn’t so miserable.
I sat back in my seat, setting my forearms flat against the arms of my chair, and returned to staring out the window. “What’s that bastard up to?” I muttered.
Sid, perched on the back of my chair, snapped his beak upon hearing me utter my favorite nickname for my husband. The raven, with me since I was a baby, as was tradition among the Corvo royal line, was my most loyal companion and greatest champion.
I raised one hand to stroke the puffed-out black feathers on his neck.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Garath said ominously.
I looked at him, my stomach twisting into knots. “He’s returning?” I asked, once again tracing the scar on my wrist. It was Alastor’s most recentgift.
Garath’s heavy stare told me his answer before his words confirmed it. “It looks that way,” he finally said. “A raven arrived this morning carrying word of travel preparations at his mistress’s estate.”
Which meant I needed to make my own preparations, to steel myself to welcome my dastardly husband back into my home. Back into my bed.
I tensed instinctively. Even thinking about Alastor’s cruel hands on my body made my skin crawl. But it had to be done. I needed an heir. Afemaleheir, as was the Corvo way.
And until I had one, my claim on the Corvo throne would be increasingly precarious. But if I could just bear a girl and prove to the other kingdoms that the Corvo line was still stable, my position would strengthen tenfold in the eyes of the other rulers, and King Eduart would back off, feeling more secure in his hold over my kingdom once he had a granddaughter destined to sit on the Corvo throne. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
The only upside to having to try for a legitimate heir with Alastor was that the instant his skin touched mine, I could skim his mind for some of his carefully guarded secrets. We were both Empaths, both powerful in our own ways, but when our skin was touching, my ability to dig into his mind far overpowered any attempts he might make to keep me out. I couldn’t see everything, but I could usually catch enough of a glimpse of his schemes to stay a few steps ahead of him.
He knew it too, which was why he filled his mind with thoughts of all his other women while he was with me. Of the myriad of ways he enjoyed breaking them. Of the times he went too far. Of how desperately he wanted to hurt me, just as he hurt them. It turned my stomach, more often than not, leaving me vomiting in the washroom after we were together.
But I would experience that revulsion a hundred times over so long as it continued to keep me apprised of his duplicitous ways. So long as it continued to reveal the ever-narrowing path I needed to walk to keep his father from invading Corvo City and ripping away my waning power once and for all.
So long as it continued to show me how to keep my son safe.
“Who’s in the tower?” I asked, purposely changing the subject.
Hills cleared her throat. “The queen caught wind of an enterprising pharmacist quietly peddling a synthetic healing elixir to some of the noble families.”
I sat up straighter, my attention snapping to Hills. Her gray-streaked dark hair was pulled back and bound at her nape, further sharpening her angular features. “Does it work?” I asked, hope surging.
A synthetic elixir would fixeverything. It would eradicate the wasting sickness plaguing our nobles, whose desire to preserve Class purity had made them vulnerable to the congenital ailment. To the other kingdoms, we appeared to be dying a slow death, but if we could show that the wasting sickness was no longer an issue, we would be seen as strong again, no longer the tempting, low-hanging fruit King Eduart had his heart set on claiming.
The wasting sickness had first emerged among the pure, inbred elite of Corvo City several decades ago, but recent reports suggested it was branching out to the murkier bloodlines of lowborn people throughout the Corvo Kingdom—and possibly elsewhere. It was hard to say for sure, as many of the symptoms were similar to those of strix addiction, and the drug ran rampant throughout the mixed-class commoners of not only the Corvo Kingdom but throughout the Seven Kingdoms. We had yet to receive reports of the wasting sickness appearing outside our borders, but I was holding out hope that it would—if only to take the target off our backs.
