Leo sits on this for a moment before they grin at their parchment, jotting notes. “It’s certainly something to consider. I’ll take this idea back to the island and see what we can do with it.”
I’m glad someone here is easy to communicate with. So long as Mornute can keep up with demand, it should never have to worry, and my idea seems to have put Leo at ease. The people of Mornute, especially those in the port city of Ikae, appreciate lavish lifestyles; I’m confident they’ll come up with plenty of other innovative ways to maintain that.
I hadn’t realized I’d been so stiff and rigid in my chair until Mother’s hand drifts away. I relax, knowing it’s a sign of her approval. My response seems to appease several of the other advisers as well, all of whom had been sitting at the edge of their seats, anxious to see how I’d do.
After the way I handled Lord Garrison, it takes most of the newer advisers time to work up the nerve to speak. But soon enough I settle into my confidence, appreciating the steady pattern of conversation we fall into. I relax into the conversation, stirring only when there’s a muffled shout at the double doors. I’m out of my seat, dagger in hand, when those doors are shoved open, much to the protest of the guards standing watch.
But my fingers weaken on the hilt as I see that the one standing there at the threshold, slipping around Casem’s reach, is the last person on this island that I want to see right now.
Bastian.
CHAPTER THREE
Standing at the door is the boy I’ve been avoiding for nearly a full season.
The boy who holds the missing half of my soul.
Dressed in sleek black pants and an iridescent opal shirt with the top several buttons left open, Bastian stands with a proud arrogance that makes him feel every bit the royal adviser he pretended to be the night we met. Hazel eyes catching mine, he brushes his hands across the dark stubble on his cheeks. The luster in his eyes is unmistakable.
He’s frustratingly handsome, and the bastard knows it.
Bastian strolls in without invitation, hesitating for only the briefest second at the sight of the polished, unscathed room. There’s a quick hitch in his jaw. Because of our curse, I feel the quick burst of terror in his chest that echoes within my own. Like me, he must be remembering the last night we were in this room, drowning in a river of Father’s blood. But he has no choice but to right himself, pulling Ferrick’s discarded chair from the corner and dragging it to the table. Wood screeches against marble, but the sound doesn’t deter him even as the advisers grimace.
I try to catch Bastian’s eye, but he doesn’t look at me even when he sits between me and Zale. Only then does he smile, so irritatingly charming that I want to reach out and use my nails to swipe it from his lips.
“Sorry I’m late.” He offers a casual wave of his hand. “Please, continue. No need to pause on my account.”
I press my hands into my lap so no one can see the nails digging in my palms as I ask him, “What are you doing?”
Bastian still doesn’t look at me as he combs his fingers over coiffed hair and stares wistfully ahead. “I’m here for the meeting.”
Every hair along my body bristles. “This meeting is for advisers only, Bastian.”
“Oh, so you do remember my name. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken that I was beginning to wonder.” His own voice lowers, and the huskiness within it does strange things to my stomach. “And I can do whatever I want, Princess. I helped save this kingdom.”
Princess. The nickname flares goose bumps across my skin.
“Besides, what are you going to do?” He leans in, whispering the next part only to me. “Kick me off the island?”
“You can’t make yourself an adviser,” Zale interrupts, eyes smiling despite the tension in her jaw. “But I would like to personally offer you a seat, Bastian. On behalf of Zudoh, we welcome your opinion.”
It takes everything in me to relax my hands. Knowing better than to go against Zale, I ignore the smugness that eats Bastian’s lips as he untucks a quill from behind his ear, licks the tip, and sets several slips of parchment on the table. He winks when he catches me staring.
Never has there been a time when I wanted to learn Curmanan mind speak more than this moment. If I practiced it, I’d be sure to tell Bastian exactly where he could shove that quill.
“We’ve a long way to go to help Zudoh,” Zale continues, steering us swiftly back on track. “We’re progressing, but it’ll take time for our island to recover from the neglect.”
“What about the water?” The smugness has left Bastian’s lips, and the sincerity that pulses within the words runs deep. Since Kaven’s death, the desire to restore Zudoh has nearly consumed him. Feeling his passion as potently as I feel my own, my anger wanes.
“Valukans are helping clear out the water, making it more habitable for sea life after the toll of Kaven’s curse,” Zale answers. “It’ll take time for fish to reappear, but we’re already seeing improvement.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say. “Lord Bargas, we should discuss how best to divide the restoration efforts of the Valukans between Kerost and Zudoh…”
We speak for hours, back and forth, sharing ideas and coming to terms with changes that need to be made. And though the meeting started off rocky, by the end of it I’m relaxed in my seat, having taken off my crown to better focus. Some of the advisers have fresh perspectives, while others are stubbornly set in their old ways. But there isn’t one of us who doesn’t want what’s best for our people. And despite his grand entrance, I’m surprised to find that everyone is receptive to Bastian. Loath as I am to admit it, his ideas are valuable, and the love he has for his home island is genuine.
But as well as everything has gone so far, the challenge in Lord Garrison’s eyes is enough to warn me that it won’t all be so easy.
“Leo,” he says casually when it’s his turn to speak. “I believe it’s time Her Majesty knew about the papers.”
Leo’s eyes widen. Sharply, they turn to Lord Garrison. “I’ve already told you, the situation is handled.”
But Lord Garrison ignores them, huffing into his beard as he reaches deep into the inner pockets of his emerald coat. Parchment crinkles beneath his calloused fingertips as he slams it onto the table before us. I reach forward and grab it.
One of Ikae’s latest trends is parchment that’s been enchanted with moving images to show off the latest gossip and fashion. Vataea and my cousin Yuriel have been poring over them for weeks, but I’ve been too distracted to focus on what any of them have to say.
Apparently, that was a significant mistake on my part.
HER MAJESTY, AMORA MONTARA: QUEEN OF OUR KINGDOM, OR VISIDIA’S BIGGEST THREAT?
Last summer, Queen Amora turned our kingdom on its head with the announcement that Visidians would no longer be forced to honor the centuries-old practice of using only a single magic.
While some have long desired this change, many are skeptical. The announcement came only days after the death of the late King Audric, and after Queen Amora was forced to take the throne despite her previous failure to perform the duties necessary of an animancer. Though our queen claims the beast that has lived within the Montara bloodline for centuries—the reason behind our single-magic law—was vanquished in the same fight that killed King Audric and Kaven Altair, it’s difficult to overlook the convenient timing.