My stomach drops. Since I first took office in Caben’s absence nearly five months ago, I’ve done nothing but consider his people—their laws, their wellbeing, their safety. I’ve tried to do and act how I believed Caben would, make decisions based on the man I knew and respected, and cared for his country like my own. It’s painful to hear how little his council thinks of me, but I know it’s more Julian’s sway than anything else. He’s been determined to see me fail from the beginning.
Before I speak, this time, I consider my words carefully before I allow them to leave my mouth. I’m working up an apology that doesn’t come across as weakness (despite my newfound love for Caben’s people, I still can’t accept how they view the woman’s role), when Julian blindsides me. “I move to have Protector Kaliope removed from her position.”
A thick silence slices through the room, then, “Is this the only grounds for your dismissal, Julian?” Councilor Wilkin’s asks.
“No, it’s not,” I say, finally finding my voice. It’s rough and scratchy, and my head is starting to pound in sync with the annoying wall clock. All eyes are on me. “He desires to have me removed on the grounds that he wants the throne…and not temporally.” I lift my head higher.
Councilor Herna catches my attention as she subtly nods, and I’m surprised by the agreeable curve of her lips, the pride in her gaze.
“That’s a bold accusation, Protector,” Councilor Wilkin’s says. “Do you have any proof that this is his intention?”
Hell. Can’t they see what a slimy snake Julian is? I guess I can’t come right out and say that, though. Sometimes I feel like my days trapped underground, battling savagely, has stripped me of much of my empathy. Or maybe it’s just that after living through it, I have no patience for issues that seem so trivial. Nearly everything compared to my days down there seems minor now.
Again, I feel like sitting in this room, scrapping over the remains of Caben’s crown, is a waste of time. One thing alone will put an end to these meetings and debates and power struggles.
Bringing Caben back.
And I’m finally understanding that won’t happen as long as I’m here.
I roll my shoulders, releasing some of the stress, and say, “I trust the one person who was given authority before Prince Caben instated me.” I glance at Empress Iana. “King Marcus entrusted our empress, and I believe, if I’m found wanting in my role, it’s best to reinstate the late king’s wishes until the prince is returned to us.”
From the corner of my eye, I glimpse Julian’s disdain to this proposal. But it’s not within his power to object if I desire the empress to swap places with me. Honestly, I don’t even understand why the Perinyian Council has given this ass any remote power at all. If Caben had trusted his cousin in the least, he’d have given me a very different request, asking that I make sure his beloved cousin Julian was issued his throne. But not one syllable of Julian’s name was uttered before Caben decided to sacrifice himself in the Otherworld.
“That’s a noble gesture,” Councilor Wilkins says, bracing his creased hands on the table and pushing to a standing position.
Empress Iana follows his lead, decidedly bringing this useless meeting to a close, and says, “My Nactue are noble, thank you, Councilor.” She hangs her head a moment before she continues. “But at this time, regretfully, I have to refuse this honor. In my weakened state, I am no longer able to extend my rulership between two countries; Cavan must be my first concern.”
Solemn nods of understanding circle the room, and despite myself, I do agree, feeling embarrassed for my suggestion. Empress Iana is still too weak to take on the welfare of two countries, both at war. One trying to rebuild its capital after the Otherworlder attack.
“But,” Empress Iana adds, calling the attention of the room once again. “I must comply with the Perinyian Council. Cavan mustn’t have too much of an interest in Perinya’s rulership. I speak on behalf of King Marcus when I nominate Julian Paynebridge to continue in my stead.”
And when agreements come from all members of the Council, I glance at Lilly, her eyebrows furrowed. Though I can’t help but notice she looks slightly relieved. I wasn’t meant to be a ruler, this I know. But how can Empress Iana nominate Julian?
Betrayal and worse, disappointment in my leader, consumes me.
What I am meant to do is now clear.
I’m done here. I’m going after Caben.
? 9 ?
Caben
WHY HAVEN’T THEY SENT their scouts yet?
This is the question that annoys me, wondering just what my Council and my sultry Nactue leader are up to.
Stuffed away in my treehouse fortress, I ponder this question and a hell of a lot more. Bale has random ideas, theories, as to why we were allowed to escape and why no one chose to pursue us. Even now that we have something of value. One: They fear us too greatly. This, above all, I’d love to believe, if I were at all naïve. Pride for my country still sways my judgment.
Two: They believe we’ll strike again, and this time, they’ll be more prepared.
This one I choose to accept as the more logical reason. Truth is, once the combined numbers of both the Perinyian army and Cavan’s protectors are set against us, we have little chance of winning. Defeating a force of that magnitude would take more power than even the dark goddess can muster, at least in her current state.
That’s why our strategic attacks on units have worked thus far. And why we’re always the first to retreat. Test their forces and retreat. Test and retreat.
Churning, churning; crushing, crushing. Relentless. Always these thoughts crippling me. Bale has been pleasantly quiet these past few hours. Probably still furious over my discovery and pouting. But still my own thoughts bully me. Beat my will into submission. And what is my will anymore?
The deeper I plunge into the moon goddess’s realm, the more difficult it is to be decisive as to what I—just me, no other—truly desire. Power. Yes, there’s always that. But what after? Will the lust for power ever be sated?