Frozen Tides (Falling Kingdoms 4)

Thanks to your father’s lust for power were the unspoken words he was certain he saw glittering in her narrowed eyes.

Cleo cleared her throat, then softened her suddenly rigid expression with a patient smile. “Perhaps,” she said. “But the problem stems from Limerian, not Auranian, origins. Limeros, to my knowledge, has never been nearly as wealthy as Auranos. There is so much that separates our people, not just Paelsian land. But within those differences, I believe an answer can be found.”

Lord Francus leaned in closer and studied the princess with a peevish—yet curious—expression. “And what, precisely, is that answer, your grace?”

“In a single word?” She sent her glance around the table, resting on each councilman’s face in turn. “Wine.”

Magnus blinked. “Wine.”

“Yes, wine. Your laws prohibit inebriants of any kind, yet wine is a source of great wealth—both in sales within the kingdom and export to lands overseas. While Limerian soil is likely too cold to nurture any crops, Paelsia vineyards lie not so far away. A solid third of their land is still rich—even if its people are not. If Limerian workers and merchants were to assist Paelsians with their wine production and trade, with Auranos’s help, Mytica could again become a very wealthy kingdom.”

“Wine is forbidden in Limeros,” the high priest pointed out sternly.

Cleo frowned. “So make it . . . unforbidden. This council certainly has the power to do that, right?”

“The goddess forbade it!” cried the high priest. “Only she can choose to make such a change, and I don’t see her here at this table. Such a suggestion is . . .” He shook his head. “Ludicrous. And, frankly, offensive!”

Cleo glared at him with exasperation. “The suggestion to change an outdated law that is single-handedly preventing you from solving your financial crisis, that could ensure this kingdom’s future if it were reversed, is offensive?”

“Our goddess—” he began.

“Forget your goddess,” Cleo cut him off. Several council members gasped. “You need to think of your citizens—especially the poor, who are suffering right now.”

Everyone began speaking at once, one argument overlapping another, creating a cacophony of grunts and chatter.

Magnus leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands on his lap, and silently observed the outrage. Cleo’s cheeks were flushed red, but he knew it wasn’t from embarrassment. Her heightened color was a product of sheer outrage.

“Quiet, all of you,” Magnus said, but no one heard him above their own noise. He raised his voice and shouted. “Silence!”

The council finally hushed, all eyes turning to look at him expectantly.

“Princess Cleiona’s suggestion is certainly”—How best to put it?—“Auranian.”

“Outrageous is more like it,” Loggis mumbled.

“Outrageous to us, perhaps. But that doesn’t mean it has no merit. Perhaps Limeros has been stuck in the past for far too long. Religious tradition aside, the princess has suggested a potential solution, and I agree that it’s worth more thought and discussion.”

Cleo turned to him, her expression gripped with surprise.

“But the goddess—” the high priest protested once again.

Magnus held up his hand. “The goddess does not currently have a seat on this council.”

“I represent the goddess here, lest you forget,” he continued, his voice edged in fiery defiance. He sniffed as Magnus gave him a sharp glare, then lowered his gaze to the table top, his jaw clenched.

Magnus stood up and walked around the long table, considering the problem at hand. “I’ll send a message to my father, presenting this proposal to him. As he has made no attempts to cease the sale and consumption of wine or ale in Auranos, I believe he may see the potential here to solve a great many problems with one bold decision.” The high priest again opened his mouth, and Magnus raised his hand to stop him. “Can you swear to the goddess right now that you have never tasted a drop of wine in your entire life, High Priest Danus? I certainly can’t.”

“Nor I,” Kurtis conceded with a nod. “The princess is as smart and innovative as she is beautiful.”

“Indeed she is,” Magnus agreed without thinking.

Cleo glanced at him, clearly surprised by this admission. Their gazes locked and held. He was the first to look away.

“This meeting is at an end,” Magnus said, managing to find his voice again.

The council members moved to leave, but Lord Loggis raised a finger, stopping them. “There is one last matter to discuss, your highness,” he said. “The large search party of guards that has been sent out to find Princess Lucia has found nothing at all. Apologies, but to continue to have so many men focused this task seems to me a misuse of both manpower and resources.”

His sister’s name drew Magnus’s full attention. “I disagree.”