True. But my explanation exonerated her without fail. I just needed them to believe me. Which was the only potential weak point in my strategy.
And exactly why I had a backup plan should the Council vote negatively against Aflora.
“You’ve spent the most time with her, Kolstov.” King Malik turned toward his son. “What are your opinions on the matter?”
“As I mentioned earlier, Aflora puts her people above herself. If she truly believed herself to be a danger to them, she’d demand her execution.”
Clever wording, I mused.
“What I heard on the recording is exactly the kind of statement she’d say to me,” he continued. “But it remains an if scenario, not a resolute one. To exterminate her now would be a false preemptive measure without proper merit and likely earn retaliation from the Elemental Fae.”
All very logical without an ounce of emotion.
If we were alone, I’d applaud him for the outward stoicism.
“She’s your ascension trial,” King Malik replied. “If that’s your decision, I stand behind it.”
Oh, if you only knew what Kols had been doing to his little “ascension trial” yesterday around this time, you wouldn’t be so quick to agree, I thought.
Outwardly, I remained as calm and cool as Kols, never once showing an opinion either way. The Council thought I only cared about fucking Aflora. I preferred it that way. Made things easier.
“So we just send her back to the Academy?” Tadmir’s tone matched the embers floating around his oval-shaped head, his annoyance piqued.
“A hypothetical conversation is not grounds for execution.” Chern rubbed his bald head, the designs along his scalp flaring with magic. “We should continue to monitor her developments through Kolstov’s reports.”
Kols’s jaw ticked once more, the only indication of his discomfort.
Yes, young prince, how does it feel to lie to the room of your intended peers? To know that the truth would have you ousted from that precious throne and potentially killed in the process? I wondered.
I almost pitied him.
That cuff around his wrist might hide his truth from the room, but he’d made his bed when he chose to invite Aflora to play between his sheets.
Of course, destiny wrote that act into the cards long ago.
And there was no escaping fate.
I yawned as the Councilmen began their usual debates, with Tadmir on one side, Chern on the other, and my father and Malik in between while Svart remained dutifully silent. Some of the Seconds spoke up, but most were in agreement that Aflora should be allowed to return to the Academy with Prince Kolstov as her warden.
There were so many innuendos on the tip of my tongue regarding Kolstov’s method of guardianship, but I swallowed each one.
“Continue to report back anything useful,” my father told me after the meeting adjourned. “It doesn’t matter how small.”
“Sure,” I replied, acting as though his request didn’t faze me in the slightest.
My goal was to convince him I resided on his side, that my duty was to him and the Council. Because I needed him to stop watching my every move.
The pride in his eyes now suggested that perhaps I’d won some favor with him, that maybe he would remove the surveillance he had on me at the Academy. I’d know soon enough, as I’d spent the last few months skillfully avoiding them.
That was one of the many benefits of my bloodline—my ability to detect paths.
If only I could find the quickest way out of this new mess.
Alas, the prophecy stood, and things were about to become a whole hell of a lot worse before they ever improved.
Ah, my poor, darling Aflora. This is only the beginning. Please don’t hate me too much.
Chapter Four