Page 38 of The Witch Queen

Carex nods, swallowing slowly. “Yes, Your Majesty, I think that would be prudent, if you believe it won’t hurt relations with the Velmarans too much if it turns out they are innocent.”

I wave my hand. “I don’t care what they think of my questioning. I don’t give a damn what relations are like. They’re only here so Nemesia has access to the Velmaran archives.” As I aerstep away, I find myself questioning the truth of that statement.DoI care what the Velmarans think of me?

They’re seated at the dining table and startle when I appear. I hold a finger up to my mouth to tell them to be quiet. Gathering aether around me, I will the air to distort our voices just slightly so the guards outside the doors can’t make out our words.

Fionn stands, anger and fear in his eyes. “What the hell are you playing at,witch?” he hisses. “Why have we been arrested, or detained, or whatever the hell you call this?” I don’t flinch at the insult, not after three hundred years of those barbs, but it still stings.

Hawthorne puts his hand on Fionn’s shoulder, forcing him to sit. “What I think Fionn means, Your Majesty, is that we’re confused about what’s going on. Please, enlighten us.” Hawthorne looks at me, the smallest hint of uncertainty in his olive eyes. Silene also looks unsure, her bubbly aura dampened. I sigh.

“I’m sorry. I swear, this was not part of my plan. I didn’t expect Carex to take such quick action. I knew it was a possibility he would suspect you, but he’s been trying to grab more power on the Council as of late, and I believe this is somewhat political in nature. Though I cannot fault him for his actions or suspicions. He is, after all, correct about your involvement.”

“What happens now?” Hawthorne asks.

“I’ve convinced most of the Council that you’re innocent. They believe I’ve come here toquestionyou. Meaning, torture you for information.” They visibly tense, so I quickly add, “Which is just a ruse, obviously.” I can’t help the small pang of disappointment that they so readily believed I had turned on them. But it doesn’t matter, because Iwillhaveto turn on them at some point, even if it’s not today.

Hawthorne smiles, always the one to project confidence for the others. “Then I guess we need to put on a bit of a show for those guards out there.”

They take about fifteen minutes to really trust that I don’t actually intend to torture them, but once they see it’s all for show, they lighten up. We spend another hour stifling our giggles as we make nonsense noises. Hawthorne, Fionn, and Silene moan in mock pain, and I say the most outrageous things I can think of in a firm voice, knowing the guards can’t hear the actual words we speak, just the tone.

“Faustus the Fighting Fae once fell while flatulating ferociously from fishy fennel fritters,” I say in a menacing voice, aether lacing my words. All three fall to their knees, both from silent laughter and the compulsion of the monarch magic. Even Fionn is enjoying himself.

My eyes meet Hawthorne’s, and I swear some kind of spark passes between us, like our magic is reaching out to one another. His eyes widen before he frowns, about to say something. I don’t want to talk about whatever connection seems to make my magic react so strangely around him, so I decide it’s time to end this. I straighten and stand tall, rolling my shoulders back.

“That should be enough. I’ll return to the Council and assure them you weren’t involved. You should probably look a bit nervous and broken for the next few days. I’m not known for kindness or mercy in these situations.” After the words are out of my mouth, I regret them, not wanting them to know the truth of how far I’m willing to go to protect my people.

Silene and Fionn nod, but Hawthorne approaches me. “Laurel, wait,” he says. I look at him, and his fingers twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to touch me. The thought makes my stomach flutter. I give him an expectant look. “I just wanted to tell you, I meant what I said during our dance. I would love to train with you. I know you can channel light after tonight’s little show, but I haven’t seen you use any of the advanced techniques. Perhaps I could even teach you a thing or two.” He winks, and I can’t stop the smile that follows.

“As I said, I’ll think about it, princeling.” Then I disappear.

It’s been a week since the ball, and I’ve received reports that the Velmaran ambassadors have been scarcely seen. Rumors swirl they’re licking their wounds after my hour with them. What they’ve actually been doing is trying to get an audience with the Sons and Daughters’ leadership, sneaking out using Hawthorne’s light channeling to remain inconspicuous. Based on the short missives they’ve had delivered to me, the rebels are being dodgy about when and where they’ll introduce Hawthorne to their leaders.

I’ve stayed away from them, preferring to get their updates via letter. I told them I was too busy to meet, but the truth is that I’m feeling too many conflicted emotions in their presence. Hawthorne was too handsome, too charming, tooperfectat that ball, and the way my body reacted to his is not something I want to repeat. I’denjoyedthe way his hand had felt splayed across my bare back, had wanted to impress him with my magic. When Silene returned and I’d seen him kissing her, a host of emotions swirled through me. I cannot afford to get distracted right now with the mole and the rebels and whatever Mazus is planning.

To keep myself away, I’ve spent my time questioning every spy we have in our network, trying to gather any tidbit of information that might help me uncover the identity of the mole. Using the aether-voice to force them to confess, I’ve crossed a line I swore I’d never cross—using the aether-voice on those loyal to me. Despite the temptation to use the same tactic on every advisor until I’ve uncovered the mole, Ihaveto keep that boundary in place, for my sense of self-worth. So far, I’ve come up completely empty-handed. Whoever the mole is, they’re covering their tracks well. It’s aethers-damned frustrating, and it’s only a matter of time before word reaches Carex that I’ve been questioning the spy network. Though I was careful with what I asked and didn’t reveal I was looking for a mole, Carex is bound to come to me with questions.

Seated at my desk with Lunaria curled up at my feet, I look out at the city from my window view, hoping to find some miraculous clue far off in the distance. The landscape is still green, but winter has fully set in. The air is frigid. It won’t be long before all the trees and other plants undergo their brief period of death before re-blooming. A sharp rap on the door stirs me from my thoughts and aimless staring. I cautiously open the door, then fling it open wider when I see Admon standing there.

“Admon, I wasn’t expecting you. Did I forget a meeting?”

“No, Your Majesty,” he says with a bow. “I’m leaving a committee meeting and desired your company. Will you begrudge an old man a cup of tea?”

My lips form a soft smile. After the war, when I was still finding my way as a ruler and grieving the loss of my parents and my sense of self, Admon would show up to surprise me often, claiming the way my magic could heat a kettle of water made the tea better than any he’d ever had. We both knew it was his attempt to provide me with company and support without overstepping. We haven’t had tea together like this in a long time. I wonder what has him reaching out in this way now—what flaw he sees in me that needs his guidance—but I welcome him all the same.

“Come in, Admon. I’ll heat some water.” As he crosses the threshold, Lunaria stands abruptly, eyeing Admon suspiciously. He keeps his gaze on her as he sits in a chair, expression neutral and unafraid. She’s skittish around others, and the hiss she gives Admon is nothing new. Yowling her displeasure, she disappears into my bedroom.

When the tea is finished, I hand Admon a steaming cup. He takes a sip and makes an appreciative noise.

“Just as good as I remember it,” he says with a smile. I only shake my head and drink from my own cup. “How are you doing, Laurel? Without Nemesia?” As usual he gets to the heart of my troubles with no preamble. I want to say I’m fine, but he knows better, so I give him the truth.

“I miss her, and I’m worried we won’t be able to stop the rebels without her. I’ve never been any good at offensive strategies. She’s the smart one.”

His eyes soften. “We both know that’s not true, Laurel. You’re a remarkable leader, not even considering everything you’ve been through. You have a mind for politics that I’d say rivals any of the best political strategists out there.”

My eyes sting and my throat aches, but I lock it away. He always knows what I need to hear. The recent attacks have left me feeling insecure, unsure of myself and my capability as a ruler. Not to mention all the slips with my magic and using the aether-voice so much lately. I feel like I’m unraveling. While the words don’t fully reach that place deep inside me that constantly whispers that I’m not enough, they quiet the noise, at least for a moment.

“You’re biased,” I say when I’ve gotten control of my emotions again, and he smiles with a steadiness that bolsters me. We continue speaking for another hour, chatting about potential strategies to deal with the rebels, the upcoming Abscission period, and smaller topics about the kingdom. Somehow, he navigates the conversation so that I’m reminded of what a competent and capable leader I am and how far the kingdom has come in the three centuries I’ve ruled.

“What do you make of the Velmarans?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye.

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