Page 19 of Winter Queen
“He was. He’d had his wings removed.”
A collective gasp echoes through the room. I didn’t even know that was possible. Our wings aren’t like you imagine angels’ wings, always visible, always connected to our bodies. They only pop into existence when we call for them, and even then, they’re ethereal, not quite as solid as they should be considering that they carry us through the air. I’ve got enough practice now that if someone gripped one of my wings, I could make them disappear before they could hurt me. So how did the Morrigan cut off this man’s wings?
There’s no doubt that it was her. It’s such a twisted thing to do, something so evil and cruel that I can’t imagine Angus being responsible for it. He’s a brute and he’s single-minded about what he wants. He’s out in the open and makes up his lack of subterfuge in numbers and his warriors’ skills.
I decide not to ask about the details of how the man was tortured before he brought us the message.
“Any idea where he might have come from? What’s in the North?”
Algonquin gets up and takes a rolled-up map from a shelf behind him, before spreading it out on the table in the centre of the room.
The Palace and the surrounding towns are in the centre of the Realm, slightly more West than East. I recognise some of the names of smaller towns and villages from previous Council meetings. Most of the inhabited areas are in the Southern half of the Realm, with only small dots showing that people are living in dwellings further North.
Algonquin points to a strange runic symbol on the top of the map, straight at the Northern edge of the Realm.
“There’s a ruined Gate up there, but it’s been broken for centuries, millennia even. I believe it’s checked on every year or so, but maybe someone should take a closer look, just in case.”
“How does a Gate break?” I ask in confusion. I thought they were unbreakable, eternal gateways between the Realms.
Algonquin gives me a strange look. “By a demigod travelling through it while having a magic flare. The Gate exploded, and so did the demigod.”
I shudder. “Who was it?”
“You wouldn’t have heard of him. He died on the day he came of age, when his powers erupted. He’d been in the Realms to visit his parents, and everybody thought that his magic would develop the next day, but they got it wrong. His raw, untamed power tore the Gate apart.”
I swallow past the stone that seems to have lodged itself in my throat. I travelled through a Gate in the days after my own magic had flared up several times. Had I been in danger? Could I have destroyed the Gate we used?
I shrug off these uncomfortable thoughts. “Okay, check on the Gate. If it’s working again and letting people into the Realm, we need to know about it.”
"Yes, Your Majesty," Algonquin says with a bow, before his expression changes in embarrassment as everyone in the room suddenly seems busy clearing their throats.
It seems like the librarian is on my side after all.
Chapter Seven
After the Council session, I feel both depleted and restless. My advisors had painted a much bleaker picture of the situation than I expected. People are dying while trying to keep the Realm safe. There are invaders at our doorstep and we won't be able to keep them out for much longer. How does my mother cope with this kind of pressure?
Well, maybe I'll get to ask her in a moment. I'm headed towards her chambers, Arc in tow. Storm had to stay to talk to Gwain, making plans for his promotion. Usually, there'd be a big ceremony, but half of the army is stationed away from the Palace just now, and there's not really the mood for a celebration either. Knowing Storm, he'll try to wiggle out of any kind of formal affair.
"How are ye feeling?" Arc asks me.
"Like I either want to fly away and murder two Gods, or like hiding under my blanket with my Guardians by my side, hoping that it'll all be over soon." I sigh. "Please stop me from doing either."
He laughs. "I wouldnae stop ya from jumping into bed with me. But we wouldnae be hiding in there..."
I can't help but smile. That's my Arc, the funny, kilted Scot who's wormed his way into my heart with his hilarious accent and attitude. I'm so thankful I have him and the others. I really would be hiding otherwise, pretending that this responsibility of ruling a Realm didn't exist.
"Want me ta come in with ya?" he asks when we reach the door to my mother's bedchamber. There are four guards posted outside, twice the normal number. I keep having to remind myself that she's not as invincible as she usually is. If someone attacked her now, she wouldn't be able to do much to stop them.
"No, it's alright. Although if Theodore is in there, maybe call him out with some sort of distraction? I want to talk to my mother alone."
He grimaces at my mention of the healer. Seems I'm not the only one finding him annoying.
"Aye, I'll come up with an excuse."
I take his hand and give it a squeeze, both as a thank you to him and reassurance for me.
My mother's room is dimly lit by a few of the glowing magic orbs that are used instead of lightbulbs in the Palace. The curtains are drawn closed, shutting out the cold midday sun.
