Page 55 of Crowns of Ice
“Many still don’t know that Ilara’s my mate and we’re eternally wed,” Norivun’s deep tone cut through the room as he eyed the Crimsonales. “That’s probably to my father’s advantage right now. Our fae are only going to see that we defied the king. They won’t understand why we did it.”
Michas nodded and placed his hands on his hips. “It would work in your favor to have the knowledge spread that you’re fated mates who have eternally wed. It’s the one bond that even the most cynical Solis would have a difficult time arguing against.”
“We’ve realized that as well.” Norivun replied.
Lord Crimsonale cut his son a sharp look, a gesture that wasn’t lost on Norivun either. A rumble of my mate’s irritation flowed through our bond.
Because if rumors were already spreading about the king’s character, then it was possible the Crimsonales would also know that Norivun and I were actively working to clear his name and mine.
I could only hope that the fae from my village were spreading the word at this exact moment. We needed to win the fae over on our continent, and hopefully themate bond we shared would help those who’d been against us understand why we’d defied the king, especially after they learned of the king’s treachery.
“But enough of all of that.” Lord Crimsonale puffed his chest up. “Michas tells me you have something to show us.”
“We do.” Norivun pulled the looking glass out again. “You were right to be suspicious when you heard my father that night in the hall, speaking with that strange male who had the pungent scent. This was who he was meeting with.”
Norivun angled the looking glass so Lord Crimsonale, Michas, and Lady Wormiful could all see it clearly, then he activated its magic, and the scenes played out of what we’d done in Isalee before switching to the scene in Canada.
Gasps and words of shock came from all three of them. When it finished, Norivun whispered the spell that returned the recording to the beginning. Then he played all of it again but at a slower pace.
“What’s pulsing in the soil?” Lord Crimsonale asked when the black writhing heart of the warlock’s spell appeared at the ground’s surface.
“Dark magic,” I replied. “What you’re seeing is what was killing the crops. A veil had spread throughout the land, beneath the soil, suppressing theorem. It’s why nothing could grow anymore. But it wasn’t because the gods had forgotten us. Theoremwas still being replenished, but it was being suppressed.”
Lord Crimsonale seethed. “So the kingisultimately behind this, just as we suspected.”
“Indeed,” Norivun replied.
The older lord shook his head. “That means he’s been playing all of us for fools.” The scene changed to show the warlock kneeling before us in Canada. “The king knew all along that our concerns were valid, and he was only pretending that our land would eventually be fine.”
“Exactly,” I nodded.
Taberitha shuddered when the warlock’s face was revealed in more detail at the slower pace. “How hideous. What is it?”
“A dark sorcerer from theotherrealm.” Norivun’s brow furrowed. “We believe my father hired him to create that poisonous veil. This is who Lord Crimsonale scented last season when he overheard the king speaking at night. It’s a long story, but we found the dark spell the warlock used to create a veil of death to suppress theorem,and then, with the help of the male you see here”—he pointed at the Fire Wolf—“we were able to destroy that veil and eventually capture the warlock for authorities in theotherrealm to kill.”
“And this warlock originates from theotherrealm? That’s where he’s been hiding all along?” Lord Crimsonale glowered as he studied the hunter.
“Correct,” Norivun replied.
“Disgraceful!” Lord Crimsonale’s cheeks turned ruddy, and his jowls jiggled. The archon’s fire affinity heated his skin and warmed the air around him. “Topurposefully cause our fae to starve and be harmed...” He shook his head. “There are many atrocious things your father has done over the seasons, Prince Norivun, but this is unforgivable.”
My eyes narrowed at his righteous rant. “That may be true, but don’t you agree that it’s also disgraceful to burn a servant for tripping?”
Lord Crimsonale scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know.” I stepped closer to him, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. “Starving our fae is atrocious and worthy of time spent in the dungeons, and then lying about it and purposefully pushing for a war is reprehensible. I’m in agreement with you on that. But purposefully burning a servant who accidentally ripped your clothing is also disdainful.”
The older lord cocked his head. “Are you implying something, Lady Seary?”
“I’m not implying. I know what you did.” Months ago, Daiseeum had told me of Lord Crimsonale burning a servant who made an innocent mistake. That burn had left a gruesome scar on the young servant that not even Murl had been able to heal.
Lord Crimsonale’s nostrils flared as Nish said dryly, “She’s calling you out, Lord Crimsonale. Isn’t it obvious? Our queen is saying your acts aren’t much better than the king’s.”
“She’s not our queen yet,” Michas snapped, just as Taberitha cut Nish a sharp glare and exclaimed, “Quiet, you!”
“His name’s Nish,” I said to Lady Wormiful. “Notyou. And you’re right, Michas. I’m not the queen, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to stand up for our fae.”
Norivun’s lips curved up.