From the moment our queen took the throne, the state of Visidia has been tumultuous to say the least. If the rapidly changing dynamics of magic aren’t enough to worry you, the shifting state of our kingdom should be. With Zudoh’s effort to rejoin the kingdom happening among threats of Kerost attempting to secede, one must wonder what Her Majesty is thinking with all these changes.
Perhaps it’s because she’s a young woman, or perhaps it’s because no one is around to tame her, but whatever the reason, one thing is certain—our queen is destroying Visidia. And if something doesn’t change with her soon, I fear the worst is yet to come.
There’s an accompanying picture of me from the day of my coronation, sitting before my people in the same scorched throne I sit in, now. Mother is placing the eel crown upon my head, and the people before me bow. I look stern and confident, shoulders back and chin held high.
But I remember that moment, and if one were to look hard enough at the corners of my eyes and the furrow of my brows beneath the jaws of the eel, they would see fear.
Fear that I wouldn’t be able to fix Visidia alone.
Fear that my people would discover the truth of the Montaras, and kill me before I could even try.
Not wanting to relive the memory, I draw my attention from the image and instead skim back to a single line, reading it repeatedly.
Our queen is destroying Visidia.
“Our people don’t trust you, Your Majesty.” The smugness in Lord Garrison’s voice is hardly enough to distract me from the anger that scalds my skin. “Ever since you failed to sufficiently perform soul magic during your performance last summer, they fear you’re unable to handle your magic.”
Thank the gods my people don’t know that I can’t even use my magic at all right now. My curse prevents me from accessing my soul magic, given that half of my soul is cursed within Bastian.
I am the High Animancer. The queen. If I cannot perform soul magic sufficiently, there’s little that would stop my people from ripping the crown from my head.
Mother’s face screws tight as she reads over the parchment; I can practically see her biting her tongue. Even Bastian opens his mouth to protest, but words die uselessly at his lips as he reads it again.
“What do you propose I do to change the kingdom’s perception of me?” I clench my hands against the arms of the chair and stare Lord Garrison dead in the eye. “Tell funnier jokes? Throw parties where the kingdom may dance and drink merrily? I didn’t just save Visidia from Kaven; I returned magic to this kingdom. And yet I need to be tamed?” I strike my fist upon the table. “For the sake of the gods, I am a queen!”
When Lord Garrison straightens, resentment poisons my mouth and coats my tongue. I drag my fists away and onto my lap, hiding my scraped knuckles beneath the table.
“You may have the title of a queen,” Lord Garrison says coolly, “but in the eyes of too many, you are still little more than a girl who fled her kingdom, who cannot be trusted with the power she wields.”
I hate him for not losing his temper. But I hate him even more because, after everything I learned about the Montaras last summer, I know he speaks the truth. “What Visidia needs is stability. We can’t only throw hardships at our people and expect them to be comfortable with a mere promise that, one day, things might be better. They need to trust you. They need to feel like they still have not only a queen, but a protector.”
I press my lips together and sink back into the chair. “I take it you have a solution in mind?”
It’s as though no other adviser’s in the room when Lord Garrison looks at me, confident and calculated. “I propose we give Visidia a distraction; something for them to focus on while we working toward changing the foundation of our kingdom. I want to give them a reason to root for you.”
The way he says it sends electricity flooding through my veins.
“You’re the queen, now.” He savors each word. “Your duty is to your kingdom, and part of this duty is that you’ll be expected to continue the Montara lineage by providing the throne’s next heir as soon as possible. Because of this, you’ll need to take a husband.”
Perhaps it’s because no one is around to tame her.
I feel Bastian’s resentment spike, just as bitter as my own. But when he sets his hands on the table as though he’s about to stand, I kick his shin and fix him with a look that demands he remain seated. This isn’t his battle.
“Technically I don’t need a husband to produce an heir,” I start, but Mother cuts me with a pointed look. I can’t help but notice she’s taken no stance against his suggestion. “What are your thoughts?” I ask her sharply.
“I just want you to be safe,” she answers with every drop of the exhaustion that’s rattling my bones. “If a husband can settle our kingdom … it might be worth considering.”
“So what,” Bastian growls, ignoring me when I knock my boot against his shin for the second time. “You want to marry her off? She’s your queen, not your pawn.”
Lord Garrison sets his hands on the table, keeping himself tall. “Politics is a game, son. Everyone is a pawn.”
From the rest of the advisers, an overwhelming silence is their only response.
“I propose we send notice to each of the islands,” Lord Garrison continues, though I no longer look at him. I press a hand to my forehead instead, willing away the headache blossoming against my temples. “We’ll tell them you’re on your way to meet their most eligible bachelors. We’ll be loud about it, and ensure everyone’s attention is on you. We’ll distract the kingdom from how quickly everything around them is changing.”
“It’s a clever idea.” Zale’s voice is soft and regretful when she chimes in. “We could use it as an opportunity for you to curry favor, Amora, and have the islands get to know you. The people would feel engaged; like you’re one of them, and part of this kingdom. Love also makes you vulnerable. It makes you soft, and that softness is what people need to see from you. This could give Visidia hope.”
It takes everything in me not to let her feel the extent of my rage, even as the rest of the advisers nod their agreement.
It’s barely been two seasons since I broke off the engagement with Ferrick, and already they’re trying to pawn me off on another man. Just the idea of it’s enough for me to push from the table, rising on legs that threaten to shake with anger.
“I’ve spent over eighteen years training to be in the position I’m in.” I grit the words through my teeth, having to reel in my emotions with each one. “I’ve studied the books of our history. The maps. Magic. Weapons. Strategy. Court. Tell me, what man is out there who has done the same? What man could possibly be ready to sit at my side and help lead a kingdom?” I try to steady my wavering voice; it’s not one that comes from nerves, but from hate. Not at Lord Garrison or the other advisers, but at the sheer fact that, deep down, I recognize this idea has its merits.
The kingdom needs something to distract them, and I told myself I’d do whatever it took to right the wrongs left behind by the Montaras. But this?
Across the table, Lord Garrison remains calm as the summer sea. “I admire your tenacity to strengthen the kingdom, but as I’ve already said, Visidians need to trust their ruler. No one has even seen your strength. You may have stopped Kaven, but since you failed during your ceremony last summer, no one has seen your magic. With Arida’s prisons at capacity, many have their hesitations about you, Your Majesty. Rumors you can’t use your magic at the level of a High Animancer have been circulating; many believe you don’t have the control over your soul magic to even execute prisoners, let alone protect Visidia. It’s time for damage control. It’s time to show the kingdom that you’re vulnerable—that you’re so open to listening to the concerns of commoners that you’d even consider bringing one of them into the kingdom as your husband.”