Nuwin, who could apparently also mistphase, took me to the healing infirmary and promptly asked Murl to assist me.
One potion, two cast spells, and a healing tonic later, I was no longer in pain, and my burned feet were mending. The skin was pink and new, but Murl insisted that by morning I would be fully healed.
“Thank you,” I told Nuwin once we were back in the hall.
He gave a small bow. “Always happy to assist a lady in need.”
My lips twitched as Sandus strode toward us, coming from around the corner. Considering the irritated expression my guard wore, I didn’t think he appreciated our mistphasing within the castle without him.
“Where are you off to now?” I asked the young prince.
He sighed dramatically. “Back to the council meeting. Lord Thisslewater from the Dresher Islands has arrived, which means the next few hours will be sly diplomatic discussions, acting as though we don’t need the Dresher Islands’ help to replenish our food stores while my father grumbles, Lord Crimsonale and Lady Wormiful further their argument for leaving our continent, and other council members share their fears and gripes about the state of our nation.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“As lovely as a stinging nettles’ nest.”
Forehead furrowing, I said, “Despite your harrowing description, do you think that perhaps I could join you? Since my entire reason for being at the castle is to restore our crops, it would be good to know what’s truly going on, and now that my training’s been canceled for the afternoon . . .”
Nuwin cocked his head. “Well, I suppose that’s logical, and if my father has a problem with it, he’ll surely let you know.”
And with that, we disappeared in another burst of Nuwin’s mistphasing magic as Sandus let out a loud groan of frustration.
CHAPTER 13
Arched windows, a stone floor and walls, and a high domed ceiling brimming with fairy lights made up the council’s chambers. The room was bright and grand with a hum of magic flowing through the air. The tingle of it caressed my skin, warming me.
“That’s Lord Thisslewater of the Dresher Islands,” Nuwin whispered under his breath as we stood beneath the door’s alcove, not visible to anyone in the chamber. He nodded toward a pale-pink-haired fairy. “He occasionally attends council meetings, but his voice doesn’t carry much weight since the Dresher Islands aren’t a territory anymore.”
“How often does he attend?” I asked.
Nuwin shrugged. “Maybe once a winter. He’s only here now because of the crops’ current state. Lord Crimsonale is calling for help from any Solis-friendly land that may provide it and asked him to attend.”
I nibbled on my lower lip. “How have the crops faired on the Dresher Islands?”
“At the moment, they still grow normally, as do some of the crops in Mervalee Territory. Perhaps the sea that separates us will keep the islands safe, but whatever plagues our land has moved west to east and north to south. Thankfully, the entire continent is not yet affected, or we’d be in a much more dire state.”
Snow flew outside as Lord Woodsbury, the archon of Isalee Territory, stood with Lord Thisslewater. They discussed something quietly as they surveyed a map of the northern continent on the wall overlooking the large central table.
The Dresher Islands, sitting off the eastern coast of our continent, were now considered an independent province. While the Dresher Islands were once a part of the Solis continent, hundreds of winters ago, they’d broken away, forming their own state that was able to maintain its independent autonomy through lucrative trade deals. Since the Dresher volcanoes erupted regularly, imbuing the islands with rare magic, the islands had a plethora of precious metals. The rich concentration of such a commodity was the only reason they had enough wealth to maintain their independence. That, and they were one of the few nations to actually engage in trade with every continent that chose to partake. Most of the larger continents preferred to maintain an air of self-sufficiency, not relying on trade with anyone. Our continent was no different, but occasionally trade deals would occur with Dresher, even though no one liked to admit it. Like all of the fae in our realm, the Solis were prideful, even though some of our race still conducted sly trade deals with the Nolus fae near our border. Of course, all of that was conducted through the ostracized markets.
Old habits, however, died hard even from the fae calling Dresher Islands home. The islands still had an archon, a remnant of their Solis roots, even though the inhabitants of the Dresher Islands were a mix of fae races.
The fairy lights glinted off Lord Thisslewater’s pale-pink hair as he studied the map, but despite his Nolus coloring, he also had wings, hinting at his mixed heritage.
Other council members were sprinkled throughout the chambers as a table of refreshments stood by the far wall. My gaze swept over the room, and I stiffened the minute I spotted the Kroravee Territory archon, Taberitha Wormiful. She stood near the window, holding a cup of tea.
She brought the cup to her lips, and on her finger a silver inked eternal mark flickered subtly in the light, sparkling for the briefest moment—a circle with an array of connecting swirls and stars.
My brow furrowed. “Lady Wormiful has an eternal mark?”
Nuwin chuckled. “Surprising, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t help but wonder who her eternal mate was, especially since Lady Wormiful had always reminded me of a deadly serpent, but somebody loved her fiercely.
She spoke in low tones to Lord Crimsonale. Her height, pointy chin, lithe figure, and thin wings made for an intimidating picture. She gave the Osaravee Territory archon a nod, then glanced toward the table as she signaled the others to join her.
“Your Majesty?” Taberitha said as she glided toward the large round table placed in the center of the room. “If you’re ready to resume, shall we be seated again?”
King Novakin plucked a sweet from the refreshment table and inclined his head. “Very well.”
All of the council members returned to their seats. Prince Norivun sat beside his father, his expression like steel, but the second Nuwin and I stepped away from the alcove, Prince Norivun’s nostrils flared, and he scanned the chamber’s perimeter.
Mother Below. He’d detected my scent.
As if realizing the same, Nuwin placed my hand through the crook of his arm and smiled pleasantly before sauntering toward the table. I did my best to match his stride and appear at ease, but my smile was tight.
“Good afternoon.” Nuwin inclined his head to everyone before pulling out a chair for me, then his own.
The crown prince’s lips thinned. Prince Norivun’s barely controlled glare slid to Nuwin, but the younger prince was either choosing to ignore him or oblivious.
“What’s she doing here?” Taberitha Wormiful sneered from her seat two places down.
Lord Crimsonale leaned back in his chair, his wings tightening. Displeasure was written all over his face.