Page 93 of The Song of Sunrise
Both Elven tribes returned this morning, having a much faster way of travel by sky, just in time to make it to this meeting.
I place my hands on the large, circular stone table, pointedly ignoring the swirling thoughts of the cadets in the hallways beyond. There is an aura about this space. I feel it every time I return to this room after the conclusion of a Summit. The room is spacious and covered in ivory and gold. Statues depictingthe likenesses of the original Peace Treaty royals from over two hundred years ago circle the perimeter. If I were to turn around, I would see the face of the man who I looked up to my whole childhood. My grandfather. But it still hurts to see him, to observe his likeness so familiar to my father. Andthatmale, I wish to never see again.
And so, I ignore dear grandfather once more.
Instead, I’m transfixed by the threads of golden afternoon light seeping around the velvet curtains. It’s almost enough to lighten my scowl. Almost. If it weren’t for the special treaty amendments stating that I can attend Summit-only events during the day, I wouldn’t otherwise be able to see those yellow gold beams. Deep within, I feel a tug, a sense of wonder at the sight. A feeling I don’t experience too often. Until recently. When I am withher.
Akemi.
My Sunrise.
The moment the sun goes down, I will find her. Explain why I couldn’t go to Redrock. My soul cracks at the memory of her stare when I remained seated after the second task. She was so cold, so broken, so… furious. My pulse quickens, thinking of how close I can get to those flames.
Soon. I will find her soon.
The conference room doors swing open. Elder Superior Markus strides in, cape dusting along the black and white tiled floor. “Thank you all for joining this out of cycle session. Clearly, there are matters to be discussed.”
“I think Lord Rollo should start.” Lady Neda gives him a pointed look down her delicate nose. Her wispy blonde hair is wrapped atop her head, braids woven into a crown. Thankfully, most of the royals in this room know how to shield their minds. Ironically, they do it to keep me out, yet little do they know I welcome the reprieve.
“I concur,” Lord Clayoq adds, “seeing as we are all so acutely interested to know”—what the fuck happened, I think, but keep my mouth closed tightly—“why Jord Underlings attacked Redrock.”
Lord Rollo leans back in his chair and raises his palms. “I’m sending officials to look into it. I assure you that these Underlings were not under my charge.”
“Bullshit,” Lord Cadex mutters from behind where he and General Damaris stand guard along the perimeter of the room. The Kingfishers and Roc Riders stand behind their respective leaders, though all eyes are trained on Lord Rollo and his Oksvakt.
Not now Cadex, I say under his mental shields. As much as it kills me, we have to keep a united Underworld front in this room.
“We will want a full briefing on what your official finds,” Elder Superior Markus says. “This must not happen again, or worse outcomes will be upon us and our decision will not revolve around the Summit Championship, but other matters entirely.”
“Elusive as ever,” Lord Clayoq chimes. “Just to make sure I’m interpreting your statement correctly, you are saying that should another attack happen, we are in breach of the Peace Treaty?”
We all hold a collective breath.
Markus flushes. “If you insist on summarizing my statements in your own voice, then yes. That is precisely what I meant.”
Lady Neda leans backward and begins whispering to her husband. Elder Davenpath gasps. Ivar and Siguard reach for their axes.
“Enough,” I say quietly, letting the hold on my powers release ever so slightly, resulting in a reverberation deep from the earth below. The room stills. “This is a special session, and special sessions are held for voting. What is the nature of our vote today?”
Elder Superior Markus attempts to stifle his agitation at my interference. His ego is far too fragile to admit that he doesn’t have command of the room. “I motion that we remove the point system for the third task and reinstate a race instead.”
“This is a preposterous notion,” Lady Neda says.
“I would consider the weight of your opinion,” Lord Clayoq says as he brushes long ebony strands of hair over his shoulder, “if you still had any champions left in the game.”
A cold, flutey laugh drips from Lady Neda’s throat, a sound laced with danger and beauty. The room turns a shade of blue. “At least I am not using my champions to fill royal coffers with treasures more than any man should have.”
“At least my coffers are full!” Lord Clayoq counters as sharply as the wind whipping through the room.
Overflowing with your own treasures when the rest of your people starve! Selfish bastard! No wonder your own son left your court!Lady Neda thinks so loudly it hurts my skull.
I stand, chair scraping the tile. My anger is flaring at this nonsense. “I said,enough.”
Lord Clayoq huffs and Lady Neda crosses her arms, but they both stop their bickering.
“The last time we removed the point system was—” I begin.
“—One hundred years ago,” the Elder Superior finishes, face looking smug.
