Thomas nodded. “Yes, you only inherit on his death, unless your father decides to step down early. Which doesn’t happen. You need to understand, however, that High Warlock’s are schooled from infancy in the correct way of addressing the public, their role...”
He let his voice trail off. There was a hint of a sneer on his face as though he thought I would never be able to catch up.
“Responsibilities... yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said with a shrug. Really, training someone since infancy?
They didn’t want me to be excited about this win at all, did they?
I waved my hand, accepting their condition. “That’s fine. I accept that I need to learn a lot about my role, and I’m sure between my father, and some of your chosen tutors, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
That didn’t mean of course that I’d be the High Warlock they wanted me to be. I could see issues already with the way they ran their realms, their people. Their insane belief in their supremacy.
But I wasn’t going to tell them that, of course. I needed to learn their ways and get fully accepted before I had a chance of changing anything. Of improving things for the people of these realms.
“I’m glad you agree,” Thomas said, looking smug.
I glanced from my father’s worried face, to Tavlor’s, and back to Thomas. Was there a catch I was missing? Clearly, something was going on here, something I didn’t understand. I waited for someone to tell me. When that didn’t work, I just decided to fuck everyone and ask.
“What else is there?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Well...” Thomas puffed up his chest and held out his hand, magicking up a scroll, a contract of some sort I had to assume.
I wonder if it’s as airtight as the one they’ve already broken.
“What is it?” I asked, looking at him like he was a moron—which he was. How could he be smug over something I didn’t understand and then expect me to get his point?
“It’s the current contract the High Warlock signs when they inherit, or reach twenty-one,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“I’m twenty-three, I reminded him. I didn’t even try hiding the triumphant grin on my face, being able to correct him in front of all these people.
“Exactly.” He nodded once, his eyes scanning the document. “So, although you won’t inherit for some time, we assume, there are several stipulations you will need to put into place in the next year or so that will need to be agreed to.”
My father took the scroll from Thomas and handed it to me. For some reason, he didn’t read the contract himself. It was as though only I could read it.
His face was pinched, and I wondered if he knew which of the stipulations I was going to balk at.
I opened the contract up and began to read, though the writing was ornate and not at all what I was used to, it was legible enough. I frowned, trying to read fast and get to the part I was supposed to hate.
Thomas continued while I read. “We’ve filled in any relevant parts that apply to you, Ava, although the contract is almost identical to the one your father signed when he came of age.”
Matlock stepped next to me. “Can we have a moment alone, please?”
I wasn’t sure why he was deciding now to be polite. It wasn’t like these people deserved that respect. But I kept my mouth shut.
“I’ll go through everything with Ava.”
My eyes scrolled down the first page and it all seemed pretty standard, until I came across the section on my marriage. I furrowed my brow and read the sentence once, and then twice, and then one more time because I could not believe it was there.
I was going to marry Cedric Cornall, in six months!
I’m fucking... gonna what?
I looked up at Thomas as he began to gather the Council to leave the room.
“Who the hell is Cedric Cornall?” I demanded, handing the scroll over to my father to peruse. He opened his mouth to try and get me to calm down, no doubt, but I held my hand up as though to say ‘stop.’
I was already past that by now.
There were a few too many pleased smiles within the Council as they all glanced back at me. My stomach tightened, feeling like it had been filled with lead. And like an anchor, it was sinking low, to the point where there was no way in hell I’d be able to pull myself up from drowning.