Page 13 of The Witch Queen

“You really think you can get away withnevermeeting with him?” I ask, and she shrugs.

“It’s worth trying, especially if Mazus has some secret reason for wanting us to meet.”

I consider her plan. “You’re the Queen, and he’ll be in the kingdom of his enemy. A kingdom that none can reach without your consent. I think you can do whatever the hell you want with him. It’s a good plan.” She breaks into a smirk.

“And if he finds out more than he should? If he somehow sees something that puts Thayaria at risk, or discovers the declining thayar? What should I do then?” she asks.

“You should kill him.”

Hawthorne

Light channelers are considered the highest order of magic users, and for good reason. Their power is considered the closest to the raw power of the aether, as both light and aether are currents that can be directed and shaped. Light channelers can brighten or dim the light around them, the strongest able to cast large areas in complete darkness in the middle of the day. Few take this risk, however, as most light wielders are greatly weakened or even completely powerless once darkness descends.

The Unabridged History of Magical Orders, Volume I

I enter my father’s Council chambers at his summons, the smaller ones he uses for intimate meetings.At least I won’t have the entire kingdom watching whatever news he’s about to drop on me.

The room is sickeningly gilded, nearly every surface shining with some kind of gold plating or other adornment. There are no windows, making me feel even more confined. A small rectangular table commands the middle of the room, only three people sitting at it. My father sits at the head, his presence imposing even when he isn’t crowned or wearing his regalia. He’s dressed rather informally, though his tunic is still embroidered with gold and purple thread, intricate suns adorning the shoulders and sleeves.

On his left and right are his two closest advisors, Citus and Gloxynia. Both are ancient fae with graying hair who are probably even older than my father, though no one can say for certain. Gloxynia’s beady eyes stare me down, lips pursed in a permanent soured expression, and I bristle under her gaze. My eyes shift to Citus, hoping to find something in his expression that tells me what this meeting is about. His blue eyes, milky with age, give nothing away. Unlike Gloxynia, Citus is wrinkled and looks like he may crumble into dust at any moment. With a hunched back and frail limbs, palace courtiers often joke that he was alive when the aether was created millennia ago. They may not be far off.

My father notices me and scowls. “Sit.” Always trying to get under his skin, I approach a beverage cart in the corner instead and pour myself a mug of steaming tea, adding in a generous splash of whiskey. The mug is solid gold, giving it a heft that’s impractical for its actual use and requires magic to prevent burns from the heated metal. Just another way the Velmaran court is designed to place power at the center of everything it does. Without thayar elixir to enhance their magical ability, many nobles would be unable to use the mug.

My father lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It is seven in the morning, Hawthorne, and you are already drinking.” I add another splash of whiskey because I can, slowly stirring the steaming liquid while I feel my father’s eyes on my back. With a smirk, I leisurely make my way to the table and sit.

“So,” I say, slouching in my chair, “what has led you to call me here at such an ungodly hour? I’ve barely even gone to bed after my nighttime activities.” I wink and revel at the way it makes him clench his jaw. I actually went to bed early last night and feel perfectly rested, but he’ll get strategically placed rumors later today reporting that I was seen buying out the city’s most illustrious brothel. Whatever it takes to keep him underestimating me. “Going to betroth me to another female? Already have the next one lined up in case Silene has an untimely end like dear old mother?”

It’s dangerous, being this errant. But his reaction, or lack thereof, is information. He wants something from me, otherwise he would have dismissed me the moment I showed disdain, or at the very least aerstepped the whiskey bottle to fly at my head. I stare him down and pick at my fingernails, playing the role he expects of me.

“The Witch Queen has agreed to take one emissary from Velmara into her court,” he says, matter-of-factly. My jaw drops, and I’m unable to hide my shock for a brief moment. My mind races, wondering why he’s told me this information and how in the world he got the Queen of Thayaria to agree to trade emissaries. “Queen Laurel and I have agreed to a mutual exchange of ambassadors as a first step in repairing our sordid history,” he continues. “In exchange, she’ll buy her grain exclusively from Velmara, and we’ll pay an increased cost on thayar imports,” he says. Realization dawns on me.

He’s sending me to Thayaria.

“The Velmaran representative will need to get close to the Queen and observe her magic,” he continues. “I wish to know how strong she’s become in the last three hundred years. I also want to know what Thayaria is like, who her advisors are, how the people feel about her, anything that may be interesting to know.”

I know the answer to my next question, but I ask anyway. “And who will you be sending?”

My father smiles, wide and feral. “You.”

The lights flicker, the only external sign that I’m affected by this information. They flash brightly, dim, then return to normal. Even though I had no intention of drinking the disgusting concoction of whiskey and tea, I consider downing it, just to get my bearings. Instead, I take a deep breath and center myself, not letting my concern show.

“Me?” I ask, incredulous, adding a haughty confidence to my voice that I don’t feel. “Why me? As you love to remind me, I’m useless, only good for drinking and fucking. And I have no political skills to speak of. I would make a terrible emissary. Not to mention, I have no desire to live my days in the hovel of Thayaria. I decline.” I feign nonchalance, leaning back in my chair once again as if I don’t have a care in the world.

My father stills, and as his eyes burn with an icy rage, I know I’ve gotten under his skin—a rare occurrence. “Leave us,” he says to his advisors with a quiet intensity. I dust imaginary lint from my shoulders as they leave, feigning disinterest. “You do not get to decline,” my father says with a dangerous edge to his voice. His power ripples off him in waves I can almost feel. If I were anyone else, anyone weaker than him in power, I wouldn’t be able to resist the nudge of aether lacing his voice. But I’m stronger than him, a fact that has led to his hatred of me since the day my magic appeared.

“Youwillgo to Thayaria,” he continues. “Otherwise, Fionn will suddenly find himself on guard duty in the Nivan Desert. And Silene will find herself betrothed to another, someone I can assure you will not pretend to sleep with her every few days so she can go cavort with her otherfemalelovers. She will do her duty to her kingdom and produce heirs, with you or someone else, or die trying.” Every muscle in my body is tense and alert. I must pause for too long, because he bares his teeth in a menacing smile. “I know all about the little deal you and Silene have struck. I know that she doesn’t care at all about the common whore you’ve taken on as a mistress.A shopkeeper.So beneath you, Hawthorne. I’ve been content to ignore it, knowing that eventually the two of you would have no choice but to marry. And what you do in your bedroom is none of my business as long as a legitimate heir is produced. But I grow weary of your antics, and I’ve found another purpose for you.”

My mind races, trying to find a solution. I could offer him something else, but there’s nothing he wants from me. When my father makes his mind up about something, there’s no changing it. And while I don’t believe for an instant that he truly wants me to spy for him— he would never trust me with something so important—I will play along. For now.

“Fine,” I hiss out. “I’ll play pretend as your emissary and report back. But Fionn and Silene come with me.” I will not leave them here for him to decide what to do with while I’m gone. My father considers for a moment, then nods in agreement. I almost slump from the chair in relief. “Why now? What’s made you decide on this arrangement after so much time?”

“My reasons are my own,” he sneers. “They do not concern you. I have… allies in Thayaria, so wipe any plans of lying to me or not doing your best to get close to the Queen from your mind. If you slip up, I’ll bring you home and deliver on my promise. Thayaria is not as impenetrable as you may think.” He gives me a meaningful look, then waves his hand in dismissal before turning back to the pile of documents scattered on the table in front of him. “Make your preparations. You depart in a week.”

“What the actual fuck,” Fionn says an hour later when I tell him the news. Silene wasn’t here when I arrived in the sparring chambers, ready to beat the shit out of anyone or anything that crossed my path, but Fionn was. The moment he saw my face, he ripped off his shirt and picked up a weapon. We fought in silence for several minutes, our swords clashing in a familiar rhythm and echoing off the walls and high ceilings around us. After I’d taken the edge off the furious energy coursing through my veins, I told him about the meeting and our impending diplomatic vacation.

“If you don’t want to go…” I say, grunting with the effort of blocking one of Fionn’s parries.

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m going,” Fionn says, not even out of breath. He feints to the right, then twists his body while I lunge so that he can come up behind me, his sword at my neck. “How else will you get any better at using a sword if I’m not there to remind you that I still beat you every time?” He releases me, grinning.

---