Page 135 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“In the meantime, the Paragons and mages will begin enriching the wards to bring them back to full strength,” Leona said.
The General nodded, accepting the recommendation from the former Squire without the resistance he might have shown a day or two earlier. Battle had a way of establishing respect that years of peacetime interaction could not.
“If a true threat comes before the wards are fully restored, Astral City will need to rely on resources from Stormwatch and Lamar City. General Laurence, you’ll put rotating patrols beyond the city boundaries, as Venrick suggested.” She turned to Cheyanne. “We’ll need you to coordinate the civilian reliefefforts. Shelter, food, medical care. Prioritize them based on need, not station.”
The council nodded in acknowledgment, accepting their assignments without question. Whatever doubts they might harbor about Lark’s legitimacy as Regent, they recognized competence when they saw it.
“There is one more matter,” Lady Elenia said, her cultured voice carrying easily across the chamber. “The succession.”
The room grew silent, councilors exchanging uneasy glances. It was the question they had all avoided until now.
“King Agadorn has no direct heir,” Lady Elenia continued. “With his mental faculties compromised, we must consider the possibility that he may never fully recover. The regency is a temporary solution, but Lamar will eventually need a new monarch.”
All eyes turned to Lark, speculation evident in many gazes. She could read their thoughts as clearly as if they’d spoken aloud. The copper crown of Skol already within her grasp, and now the throne of Lamar potentially available as well. One person ruling these two kingdoms, with her dragonrider and fae powers, would fundamentally reshape the political landscape of the entire continent.
“King Agadorn lives,” Lark stated firmly. “And while he lives, he remains Lamar’s rightful ruler. I serve as Regent at his pleasure, nothing more.” She met Lady Elenia’s calculating gaze directly. “When the time comes to discuss succession, if it comes, we will do so according to Lamar’s laws and traditions. But that time is not now.”
The noblewoman inclined her head, accepting the rebuke with graceful equanimity. But Lark had no illusions that the matter was settled. She could see the writing on the wall. This question would continue to crop up as the King’s condition continued to be scrutinized.
“If there are no further immediate concerns,” Lark said, surveying the council, “then let us adjourn to our respective duties. We’ll reconvene at sunset to assess progress.”
The councilors rose, bowing with varying degrees of sincerity before filing out of the chamber. Only Venrick, Hardin, and Cheyanne remained, waiting until the heavy doors closed behind the last departing official.
“They’re already plotting,” Cheyanne observed, dropping the formal demeanor she’d maintained throughout the meeting. “Forming alliances, positioning themselves for influence in whatever government emerges from this crisis.”
“Of course they are,” Lark replied, allowing herself to sink into her chair now that appearances no longer needed to be maintained. She was exhausted. The wound in her side throbbed despite the healers’ attention. “It’s what politicians do. But as long as their plotting doesn’t interfere with the immediate work of reconstruction and defense, I can tolerate it.”
“And when it does interfere?” Venrick asked.
Lark’s expression hardened. “Then they’ll discover that the fear Marcel Heartfell once inspired had nothing to do with the name and everything to do with the person behind it.”
Hardin chuckled. “I’d pay good coin to see Lady Elenia’s face when she realizes what she’s really dealing with.”
Before the conversation could continue, a messenger entered, bowing quickly before approaching Lark. “Regent, forgive the interruption. There’s someone at the Keep’s main gate requesting an audience. She claims to represent the Summer Court of the fae realm.”
Surprise rippled through the small group and Lark felt the familiar warmth of Nix emerging from the pendant.
“The fae courts don’t send emissaries unless it’s necessary,” Nix said to Lark. “For them to send one now, in the aftermath of this battle, doesn’t bode well.”
“Did she state her purpose?” Lark asked the messenger.
“Only that she brings a message of urgent importance regarding your oath to the Winter Court,” the messenger replied. “And something about ‘maintaining the balance between realms.’”
“You swore to establish permanent gateways between the realms,” Nix said, placing her flaming hands on her hips.
“I also swore to acknowledge the sacrifices made during the original binding,” she said.
“And to attempt to restore those corrupted by the Void Drinker’s influence,” Nix added. “The Summer Court is wasting no time in ensuring that you will honor those commitments.”
Lark turned to Venrick, and he gave her a reassuring smile and a comforting nod.
“Have the emissary escorted to the private audience chamber,” Lark instructed the messenger. “With all courtesy appropriate to a diplomatic envoy.”
When the messenger had gone, Lark addressed her companions. “It seems my responsibilities extend beyond the politics of this realm.”
“The fae courts aren’t known for their patience,” Cheyanne noted, concern evident in her voice. “Nor for their forgiveness when promises go unfulfilled.”
“I have no intention of breaking my oath,” Lark assured her. “But establishing permanent gateways between realms requires resources and expertise, yet we’re currently struggling to provide for basic city repairs.”
