Page 67 of Frost Like Night
We should do our best to make sure none of us falls apart,I said.
I rub at my chest absently, lips pinched together.
“We can go after them,” Mather offers. “Escort them safely in.”
Sir nods. “I was going to suggest the same thing.” His attention flicks to me, hesitation clear on his face. “If my queen wishes it.”
I almost laugh. This is how we’ve been acting? Has it always sounded so absurd?
I smile at Sir. A real, normal smile, like the old me. “Of course. Who should go?”
Sir’s face doesn’t reveal anything he might be thinking. “You and I will be needed for whatever decisions must be made. I was thinking of sending Henn, along with—”
“We could go,” Hollis offers. “A few of the Thaw, at least—if it’s of importance to our queen, we should be involved.”
Sir considers, then nods. Spots of pink stain Mather’s cheeks, a rise of pride as he squares his shoulders.
“I’ll send them out as soon as we’re done here,” Mather says.
As if on cue, the flaps part again and Caspar and Nikoletta file in. Moments later, we’re joined by Ceridwen and Jesse, Dendera, Henn—representatives of four kingdoms; leaders of the armies of two. And a half. If our few hundred Winterian, Yakimian, and Summerian soldiers can even be counted as an army.
Caspar surveys the room, eyes moving from Mather to Sir, Dendera to Henn, like he can see each of their strengths and weaknesses written in vibrant ink across their foreheads. When he gets to me, I stiffen my spine to keep from withering.
“What was the last you heard of Angra’s conquests?” he asks, straight to the point.
“In addition to Spring, he now has Ventralli, Summer,Winter, and Cordell.” I separate my emotions from my words, talking low and hard. Because I don’t stop there—I’ve already gone too long without telling everyone the truth behind our war.
I explain what Angra is now, a host for the Royal Conduit’s magic as well as the Decay, and how that magic will spread out from Angra and infect every living soul in Primoria until everyone is a slave to fear and their darkest desires. How I am a host for Winter’s magic too; how Winter and Cordell discovered the entrance to the magic chasm. Nikoletta seems shocked to learn that we actually found the entrance, but Caspar doesn’t even flinch, either because he doesn’t care or because he already suspected it. I tell them about the keys we need to open it, about the labyrinth of three tasks built by Paislians.
And then I take a deep breath.
“Once I get through the labyrinth and reach the magic chasm, I can defeat Angra,” I say. “But doing so won’t just rid Angra of the Decay—it will rid the world of all magic.”
Caspar is the first to understand, and he blinks slowly at me.
“We have to destroy all magic?” he asks. “Why? Couldn’t we simply kill Angra?”
I shrug halfheartedly. “I would be the only person who could even get close enough to do that—but it wouldn’t be guaranteed that the Decay would end with his death, and how many lives would be lost in the attempt? This way,though, is definite. Itwillend his reign.”
“How is this definite?” Caspar asks. He isn’t defensive; his tone is simply curious, though the expression on Nikoletta’s face is more like horror.
“I . . . ,” I start, then realize how absolutely insane this will sound. “My magic . . . showed me, in a way. Conduit magic’s purpose is to protect its land—and I sought such help from mine. I asked it how to save everyone. Not even the Paislians knew of another way, and they’ve been searching for ways to undo magic far longer than we have.”
“Those are our two options, then?” Nikoletta now. “Either we fight Angra as he is, and hope to defeat him by strength of arms—or your conduit told you we should destroy all magic?”
I wince and nod. The overall mood in the room is one of apprehension. The idea of a world without magic is one not many have considered, let alone the idea of asking conduits for help. There are only three other monarchs here besides me—Ceridwen, the Autumnian king, and Jesse. Ceridwen is the wrong gender to use Summer’s conduit; Jesse’s conduit is useless now, after Raelyn broke it in Rintiero and Jesse, in essence, let her; and in Autumn, they’ve lived without being able to use their conduit for generations. It wouldn’t be such a far leap for them, for the world to be empty of magic. And they’ve all now experienced how expansive Angra’s threat is—asking the conduit magic for help might not seem like such a farfetched thing.
In fact, Caspar looks almost like he’ll agree with me. But he isn’t the one who speaks up.
“We’ve all seen magic do far more mysterious things than give help when it was needed,” Sir says. He crosses his arms, his stance telling the room that he expects his words to be heeded. “It doesn’t appear we have a very difficult choice to make. We all have fallen victim to Angra’s destruction—the Autumnians were ousted from their own city; the refugees around us were displaced from their homes; friends and family have been lost. Angra must be stopped. No matter the cost.”
A pause, then slow murmurs of agreement pepper the room, coming first from Caspar, Ceridwen, and Jesse.
I glance quickly at Sir, who stares straight at me. He bows his head.
My heart squeezes, trampled beneath Sir’s devotion and his last few words.
No matter the cost.
