They needed more money to make the already nice homes nicer? Nerede wouldn’t see a single improvement from that tax increase. The roofs of Savaryn might as well be made from gold while Nerede would always be forced to fix ours from our own pockets.
I looked over at Krew. He was leaning against an arm of his throne chair and looking bored.I loathe this already.
I know, love. Just know that when either Keir or I rule next, there will be no more increased taxes.
Isn’t that up to parliament and not you?
Krew’s eyes found mine up top.No. The king chooses the parliament members. They argue and bicker and then vote on issues. Father holds the ultimate power though, particularly now with my mother gone. He can ignore their vote, even on the rare chances they are all in agreement, if he decides to. His is the only vote which matters.
So what is the point of parliament then?
There is none.It is merely there to appear that Wylan cares about anyone in her lower levels of the kingdom.
I made sure my magic was pushed down. It was a good thing I’d trained with Owen so hard this morning, or I’d likely feel it humming beneath my skin already. As it was, I felt fine. In control. It was also like the more I got used to having magic, the more my power knew to behave in certain situations. Particularly in the presence of the king. Though I was not ready to experience another one-on-one conversation with him any time soon.
My mother also held a vote as the queen, though. Either my mother and father had to agree on whatever it was, or it got tabled for another session. Now that she’s gone, only his vote matters.
I considered Krew’s words for a few moments.
If you become queen, you will never be forced to vote my way of thinking either. You will be my equal. Every step of the way. Your vote will matter just as much as my own and I will not intimidate or scare you into voting similar to me.
I didn’t know if I wanted all that power. Not because I was scared of it, but because I didn’t know if I would be any good with it. Gwen would be outstanding. Renna as well. Even Molly would be a just and caring queen. But me? I just wanted to heal the forest.
I tried to think about the forest for a while, totally ignoring the conversation before me. It was best to not listen to them bicker about improvements to the already nicest level in the kingdom.
Renna was wiggling her foot, and at one point Isla, next to me, jerked once, likely falling asleep as the parliament members below us continued to argue back and forth about taxes and how much of an increase was needed.
I was under the impression we were only to be in for the last hour or so of parliament, but their bickering soon turned one hour into two hours.
The king called for a final argument from both sides. An older man wearing glasses who had not said much thus far, stood. Or attempted to. It was an arduous process as he was quite frail, his cane the only thing that accomplished the feat for him. He had a white beard and was mostly bald but for a few long white whisps of hair swiped across his head.
“Your Grace,” the man began. For as frail as his body seemed, his voice was sure and strong. “I strongly implore you and humbly request that you do not do this. Even a small increase in taxes will be detrimental to the people of Nerede. Particularly after the recent fires.” He paused and sent the king a pointed look.
A cold shiver traveled along my arms. I stole a glance at them to find little bumps all along my skin. It wasn’t my magic. It was a parliament member making a stand against our king for my people. I couldn’t help but lean in to better listen.
“However warranted or unwarranted the fires may have been, reduced ration allotments during a rebuild will be detrimental. And while some of us have gotten quite cozy up here on the mountain, I request we all remember where we grow our food and why it is we live so comfortably.”
The frail man took down his glasses. “Though a ration decrease to those of us with a bigger ration allotment seems minor, affecting none of us in Savaryn, to the workforce of our country it is not. And you do not cripple the workforce. You keep them happy. You keep them working. You keep them distracted.” He paused. “If you increase their taxes after the stunt you pulled last month, they will grab their torches. And likely wind up murdered.” The entire room seemed to gasp with the man’s audacity. “And if the workforce is all dead, who will be putting your food on the table, Your Grace?”
I wanted to stand and clap. I wanted to hug the man. He got it. He got what so very few up here on this mountain did.
“Excuse me?” the king snapped. “The stuntIpulled?”
The old man didn’t even flinch under the king’s harsh tone. “Did you or did you not intend to punish them and reassert your dominance? Both of those things you did.” He squeezed his cane harder. “To give them a tax increase now is to fan the flames of rebellion. A rebellion already barely contained as it is.”
“Do you not remember, Martese, they attacked my son?” the king asked, and I knew from the look on his face that this old man was at risk of a lashing. I wasn’t sure as frail as he was if he could even survive it. Even just thinking of the word lashing made me shove all my magic down and bury it deep. I was still not over my own run in with the king.
“A failed attempt,” the man evidently named Martese responded. “As he is alive and well. They failed. And then not only did they fail, but they paid for it dearly. Some with their lives. But you forget, Your Grace, that their efforts are what makes the country run so smoothly. Not to mention you leave them on the shore to their own devices, falsely assuming they are idiot enough to never hop on a boat and simply leave.” The man paused. “If you do not smooth this over, we could lose Nerede. And if we lose Nerede, if we lose our workforce, Wylan will fall.”
There were gasps heard throughout the room.
The king took two steps toward the man and my stomach dropped. I’d never immediately adored a person like I did this frail man.
“Death may knock at my door at any moment now,” the man said, stilling the king’s boots. “So you, Your Grace, do not scare me. You are nothing but a power-hungry fool dressed up with a crown. A true king would put in the work to smooth things over to squash the rebellion.”
The king’s magic was in motion though his feet remained rooted to the ground. My magic burned in my palms, but I willed it down. I wanted to help the man, but I could not. Not here. Not now. Not with so many watchful eyes.
He was Enchanted. He had magic. Would he be able to help himself?
