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“Of all of the terrible ideas, you’ve ever had, Cal, this could very well be your worst,” Vess groans by my side.
From the balcony right out of my council chamber, we watch the last few in a long line of decorated carriages crawl to pass through security before being let into Starfall, the brugh at the heart of my domain.
“Half of your guest list would directly profit from your death,” my advisor adds.
As though I wasn’t aware. There’s no amount of safety measures that would prevent those who want to crush me from attempting to do so in the next days.
I grin at my oldest ally, leaning over the banister, high over the rabble. “I remember a time you quite enjoyed revels. Wine, tumbles with strangers in dark corners.”
I remember a time when I enjoyed them just as much, but it has been years, if not centuries, since I found much entertainment in gatherings such as these.
We’re both getting old, he and I. The ages have made him wary, and me, bored. What delight is there left in the world that I have not yet tasted?
I solely exist to fulfill my purpose now: holding Nyxar together. Years ago, it was an easy feat. Now, we’re at the brink of a war that can’t possibly have a true winner. When the south ventures into our land, we will do what we must to survive, and most of us, on both sides of the border, will die.
There are so few immortals left in this dying world. Perhaps the true gods have decided that our time has come. Perhaps we’re meant to disappear into legend, like our predecessors.
“My concern is absolutely what’s likely to happen in dark corners.” Vess is tight-lipped.
These last years have weighed on his soul. And who could blame him? He comes from the southern provinces. Seeing his people slowly hunted and killed for their pride was bound to take its toll.
I’ve asked the villagers near the borders to come up north. I’ve offered land, resources, protection. But we are what we are, endless creatures, tied to our roots, to the sources of our powers.
Soon, I will have to stop asking. I will have to lead my men to their doors and make them move, earning myself more enemies.
I am tired.
“Oh, don’t fret so much.” I’m flippant, detached. “There are virtues in bringing all your enemies under one roof.”
“Like what, Caldoryn?” he snaps. “What fucking virtues?”
He often chooses to ignore that a word from me could have him hanged for his impertinence. No doubt because he’s aware that I need him too much to dispose of him. I can count the number of people whose allegiances I’m certain of on less than two hands, and he happens to be first on that short list.
“I’d hate to ruin the surprise,” I tease, rather than telling him the truth.
He’d assume I took leave of my senses if I revealed that I kept the tradition because I was convinced to do so by one person I absolutely should not trust.
The crown of Nyxar belongs to me by right of blood. There’s no one left in my line. As Queen Mother, Lucyan is next in line to rule should I fall. And she’d certainly love to wear the crown, but rare are the lords who would recognize her authority. The kingdom would be splintered, each land trying to extend their territory, as it was in the olden days, before my grandfather unified the north.
She might despise me and want my position, but I came to her temple and asked her one question while she was submerging herself in shade magic. It is her duty as the head priestess of her order to reply truthfully to one question from everyone who journey to their land. She had to answer me, and for all her flaws, my mother cannot lie.
If I want to stop the senseless war destroying both of the immortal kingdoms, I need to hold this revel.
I would have liked to have asked whether I’d survive to see the newfound peace, but the laws of the old gods only afford me one question per year, and my mother wasn’t about to give me a second one for free.
It’s an odd word to refer to Lucyan—mother. She was never that to me. She bedded my father because of her ambition, and after he’d seeded her womb, she murdered him. She would have disposed of me if given the opportunity, but I was a resilient sort of parasite, immune to the poisons she poured down her throat to expel me.
Then I was born and taken from her hands before she could snap my neck.
Lucyan Lore might have had to give me the answer I demanded of her order, but I’d be a fool to assume she hasn’t woven a trap for me somewhere in there.
I can’t show any weakness, not even to my circle. My confidence has held this kingdom together for the last twenty years.
“I hate when you keep things to yourself. I’m your advisor. Let meadviseyou,” Vess grits between his teeth.
“If you insist,” I say, retreating back into my chambers." “Do you think I ought to wear blue or red tonight?”
Vess spews a dozen curses.
