The pressure on my mental barriers increases a touch, and I focus on keeping them firm.
“Perhaps he’d had enough of conflict,” I say lightly.
“Perhaps,” Respen says, dismissive. “But I’m afraid his generosity rather backfired on him. It paved the way for the Temple of Ethira to become the powerful entity it is today. Over the last eight decades, it has steadily siphoned more power away from the monarchy, which now has only a shadow of its former strength. Would you say that’s a fair assessment, Princess Morgana?”
“Perhaps,” I say, echoing his tone from moments ago.
He smiles, but I can tell he’s not amused.
“Do you mind if I tell you a story?” he asks.
It’s getting surprisingly easier to keep up my mental wall and hold a conversation at the same time, so I nod.
“About ten years after the War of the Laurels, a young man from a small village no one had heard of went to work for the Temple of Ethira. He was a good cleric, passing through his acolyte training with impressive speed and climbing his way through the ranks until he was made a bearer working in Qimorna. One day, there was an emergency in the city. A rare solari was running amok, burning things up and endangering people’s lives.”
I frown. “Why hadn’t he been captured and executed?”
Respen raises an eyebrow.
“Solari weren’t always forbidden in Trova, Princess Morgana. You must know that.”
I did, but I had no idea the ban on them was as recent as the post-war years. I’d always thought of the days when solari roamed free as distant, almost legendary times. The Temple certainly makes it sound that way.
“So why was this solari causing so much damage?” I ask.
Respen shrugs. “He’d fought in the war, and people close to him said the memory of it had driven him mad,” Respen makes a waving gesture with his hand. “But that is not relevant. I am coming to the real point of this story.”
I nod, waiting for him to continue.
“This solari was out of control. No one could get near him. But the plucky bearer was an incendi with a most unusual power. He could burn up other people’s power just by touching them.He stopped the unhinged man and saved the city. Two weeks later, the Temple’s Grand Bearer passed away. As is custom, an election was held among the clerics to choose a new high priest. The vote was almost unanimous. The bearer who’d saved the city just weeks before became the Temple’s ultimate leader. And he has been their leader ever since—sixty-five long years, and still going strong.”
He stops, giving me a meaningful look.
“You’re talking about Grand Bearer Caledon,” I say.
“I am,” he says.
I didn’t know all the details of the story, but everyone knows the name of the most powerful man in the country, including the fact that he’s remained in his position for decades and still looks almost as young as when he was first elected. They say it’s a gift from the gods, his longevity a sign that he’s divinely blessed and fated to lead the Temple.
To my surprise, the pressure on my mind is gone. There’s no more sensic magic buzzing around my mental defenses. Cautiously, I lower the wall. Respen seems to have lost interest in stoking my fear for the moment.
“Tell me, Princess Morgana, what are your plans for Trova?” he asks, bending to smell a flower in a deep purple shade that reminds me of a bruise.
I pause before answering, considering the sudden change in direction. Leon had said his grandfather was tricky, but I didn’t expect these kinds of somersaults between topics. He must have some intention behind it, but what? Why bring up Caledon’s story? I eye him warily, but I’ve already decided to share this much of the truth with him.
“My priority right now is removing my aunt from power,” I say. “She cannot be allowed to rule when she has stolen her place on the throne using murder and lies.”
Respen sighs.
“I fear that ridding yourself of your aunt will not solve your problem, dear princess.”
“And which problem is that? Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I have rather a lot,” I say frankly.
“Your aunt might have been the one to plan the assassination, but she is not the reason your parents are dead,” he says.
I’m speechless for a moment, then I manage to stutter out two words. “She’s not?”
“No. You’re looking at a symptom of the disease, not the root cause. Your parents are dead because Marek Caledon wanted them dead.”
