Dread filled her core as they walked in silence down the winding hallway, the sunlight flickering as they passed each small window. Every footfall, every step, a reminder of what lay ahead, waiting for them in the shape of four council members. Nervously, she shifted her arm, trying to ease her roaring mind. Twenty more steps and at the end of the cavernous hallway, an oak door gleamed, two guards stationed by it. They wore silver shirts and pants, the material shimmering like stardust. They stood so still, at first glance they could pass as statues. She caught the flicker of their empty eyes, the rise and fall of their pale skin. As they drew closer, they bowed their heads, coppery hair falling forward and revealing two inky black sigils above their brow.
Slaves.
Nei’s heart hammered and her steps faltered. Three hundred and sixty-five days of sacrificing everything she was and this had not stopped. It was the only reason she had agreed to go through with this madness. Her people lived a content life on the Shattered Isles, one where they hadn’t recognized a king in several decades, until Roque’s father deemed his son the one true king. Now the world was divided between a tyrant and a son. She was a pawn in this, a promise to her people that even though their abilities were different, that they were nurturers and healers, they wouldn’t be made to bow, they wouldn’t be penalized. As queen, she would break the preconceived idea that they were lesser in any way.
And she was failing.
Roque’s gaze was grim as he glanced down at her before pushing the door open and stepping in. The room was large, and a deep oak table was placed in the middle of the room. The bay window behind the four seated figures encompassed the world behind them. The sun flared in the sky, bathing the bustling city into life. Or burning. She gritted her teeth as she and Roque stopped and bowed low, their sweeping arms and submissive figures applying all the grandeur this life demanded. They rose, and Roque gently held her hand as they walked toward the council, his warmth encompassing her instantly.
Two men and two women sat rigidly, their papery skin looking translucent in the sun. Their severe features let no emotions pass, and Nei’s gut twisted with nerves. Roque squeezed her clammy hand gently as if to say, don’t worry, this is the best way; don’t worry, you are one of us; they can’t hurt you. The ancient souls in front of her dictated their every move, political and personal. She sat rigid in the chair before her, Roque following suit, before Oren leaned forward, his watery eyes locking on her. “Your Highnesses, I must be blunt. We are curious as to why you called this meeting. We thought our demands were clear.”
It took all her control not to unleash her fury right then and there. Their “demands” were for her and Roque to idly sit by while every day more of their people were slaughtered. While every day more of her people were enslaved. Sliding into that practiced mask of calm and poise, she batted her eyes at Roque, smiling sweetly. Let them play me for the fool.
Leaning forward, his deep voice rumbled, “Esteemed council members, my queen and I come forward to you today with a proposition, one that will only strengthen our world and help end the suffering that is evident within our society. I must be equally blunt, being a new father has brought to light the flaws within my father’s arrangement. I will do what is best for my daughter’s future and my country.”
Oren scoffed, “Please, no insult intended, my King, but—”
Roques gaze darkened as he snapped, “As your king, you will not interrupt me, Oren. It’s time this council embraces the future, and I will not stand for it if it’s one bathed in blood.”
Nei glanced at Roque, hiding her surprise beneath a blank mask. He was arrogant and entitled, but maybe her pleas had come through to him. She had begged him endlessly, their arguments flowing late into the night. He could not turn a blind eye anymore, even though he was afraid of what the world would think and say. But here he sat, powerful and determined, and for the briefest second, admiration flared within her.
“Nei and I are ready to move forward in our lives, and we are sorry to say the council and my father will not be privy to our decisions anymore. It’s time for you all to step down.”
The council’s voices rose in an uproar, accusations being thrown at them both.
Oren’s voice cut right through the rest. “This is because of her. Roque, you have been poisoned by this, this witch, from those cursed Islands.”
Spittle flew from Oren’s mouth as his pointed finger shook toward Nei’s chest. Slowly and surely, she focused on Oren, taking in the old man.
I will end you, even if it means war. Nei swallowed down her thoughts and she was proud her voice was steady. “No, Oren. I am not a witch, only a healer. Only a woman who wants to see a world that is not trying to tear itself apart. Only a queen that has dreams for her king and her daughter and to ensure we will rule justly and not ravished in lies and corruption. Too long has this council pushed the idea that their one true king is one of triumph and power. When our people are taking this notion and abusing their abilities on my kinsmen and enslaving them. When they are hunting out desolates and killing them because they aren’t worthy of life.”
Oren spat, “And what do you think they will do when the world finds out your husband is a desolate?”
Roque slammed his fist down
