“I don’t know where your room is.”
“Mine is the one with the guard always stationed outside. Perhaps your friends can help you with that, too.”
“I’m always up for a challenge.”
As Niethal and Grace leave the room, my newly found happiness goes with her.
I need to stay a while longer and feel out the other kings on what they plan to do, though Fintan and Lancet will vote in favor of war. King Tullid and my father have always been closer than the others. They were the only ones who didn’t support the rebellion. Maybe he will see reason.
“I hope Niethal’s grand plans have not swayed you.”
The answer is in Ronan’s eyes before he speaks, and it’s not in my favor. “Niethal may be arrogant and self-serving, but he isn’t wrong about this. Gabriel and Alessandra should never have locked us or our relics away. My family had healing stones locked in Anaeris, and if what he says is true, and the city is not lost but purposely hidden, I would support breaking the blood magic to retrieve what is rightfully ours. Maybe occupying Esmarae isn’t such a terrible thing.” I huff, and he amends, “I will try my best to keep peace with the humans, but my people long to travel again without crossing between kingdoms, to have unfettered access to the world beyond. You were not alive, so you wouldn’t know what it’s like to move freely like that. Have you ever seen the ocean, Isiah?”
I frown. “Yes, I’ve seen large bodies of water.”
He shakes his head emphatically. “I’m not talking about lakes or rivers. I’m talking about a body of water so large it never ends, curving on the horizon to what could be the end of the world. You know why that is?” I don’t answer, but he continues anyway. “It’s because our borders restrict us. Our kingdoms only expand so far. The lands we hold are all we have, and even with our slow-growing population, space is a limited resource. Who do you think will pay the price when our borders are full? The kings and their courts? Or the farmers in their fields? When our world is full, it will be the weaker and poor that will suffer. Opening the borders makes sense, regaining the relics makes sense. As nice as it is to see you, Isiah, I wish Rikard would have come instead.”
“Well, I am here in his place, and as his heir, I will speak for my kingdom and do what I believe is best. My father didn’t deem it important to give Niethal the pleasure of his company. He’s never forgotten what Niethal did during the war, nor forgiven it.”
King Tullid winces. “Rikard always had a soft heart for the humans, especially the women.”
Ah, yes, Shelby. He has only once talked about before the war with me, and he was exceptionally drunk when he did.
When the kings were only vassals under Gabriel and Alessandra’s rule, my father said Niethal, Lancet, Fintan, and their antihuman rebels would pick fights with the humans. Small things at first—tavern fights, alleyway attacks, and brawls in the major cities. Only enough to spread rumors of fae and human troubles.
One such fight broke out in Thorne, and ten humans died. My father’s human lover, Shelby, was among the casualties. He would not elaborate further, but a pain lingered in his eyes after her mention and never faded, even after several more drinks. If he ever had a heart, it died with her that day.
King Tullid lets out a deep sigh. “Your father is an excellent king, and he would understand that I must do what’s best for my people. I hope you, too, can understand this.”
He believes what he’s doing is best, but the warning in my mind tells me it’s wrong—but nothing I can say will sway him. He has seen the lure of the relics and taken the bait.
“I understand you’re doing what you think is right, but so am I.” I give a slight bow. “Have a good evening, Ronan.”
There’s no need to discuss anything with the other kings. I already know what they will say, that they are doing what is best for our people. I can even understand their reasoning: living behind borders is restrictive. While I wish we could move about freely, it cannot happen Niethal’s way. Subjugating humans is wrong. It shouldn’t happen, ever.
If we could open our borders in the image of prewar Esmarae, I would agree. But breaking the border and blood magic means potentially sacrificing Grace, and I cannot—will not—allow that.
I leave the parlor and head toward the main entrance to meet Mikal and Thom. Mikal stands and arches his back. “Finally. These wooden benches are killing my ass.”
“Come, we have a lot to discuss.” I stomp toward the stairs without looking back. Their footsteps follow.
“That bad, huh?” Thom catches up, matching my pace.
“It’s worse. Ronan plans to agree with Niethal. Once the borders and blood magic are down, nothing stands between Niethal, the relics, and reclaiming the human lands for the fae—or, more likely, for himself.”
I need to go to my rooms and talk this out with them. We need to get Grace out of here before any of it happens.
CHAPTER 19
GRACE
“I
don’t know what you’re up to, but you would do well to remember our agreement,” Niethal says as we walk toward my room. His hand rests on the small of my back, and what once would have thrilled me now feels wrong.
I keep silent, not out of spite or anger, but in fear of being caught. I’m not sure how much Niethal picked up on what happened between Isiah and me, but he seemed to notice something at the table, and he’s no fool. So I try being agreeable, even if it chafes. “I remember, and I don’t intend to cause any more problems.”
He stops walking and squints. “You forgot to pretend to be angry, my dear. Falsehood does not suit you. Try harder next time you lie to me.”