“The same for me,” King Greer cut in. “It was at the moment of transference that my uncle showed his true colors and channeled the airmagic into my son. Successfully, I should add, though his plan to then kidnap and most likely end my son’s life in order to end the House of Air, thankfully, did not succeed.”
There were murmurs of discord around the table at such outrageous behavior by one of a royal bloodline.
“This has led us all to conclude that we seem to be in the midst of a coordinated attack on the Houses,” King Morton spoke up. “And our House—the House of Water—will be the next House to initiate the moment of transference as my son is ready to take the crown.”
He said it with pride, which made Iona smile and nearly reach for Malcolm’s hand, though she stopped herself last minute, remembering it wasn’t her place. Then the king’s words hit her with all their implications, and her insides chilled at the realization of what the king’s words meant.
Malcolm was under threat.
She glanced at him and could tell that this was not news to him. He wore the knowledge stoically, but there was a brief clenching of his jaws that told her he was not as at ease as he would seem. It was unclear to her whether the unease stemmed from disappointment or worry. Was he disappointed over gaining the powers of his bloodline and the subsequent crowning that would follow were both tainted by such dark tidings, or was he worried what it might mean for his own survival?
Nothing must happen to you, she thought.I could not bear it.
“It is auspicious that my son is stepping into his first and last trial in conjunction with us finding and uprooting this unseen threat,” King Morton said. Iona cocked an eyebrow, wondering if he was serious in his belief that this conjunction was not of his own design. His next proclamation made her none the wiser as he finished with, “We will use it to flush out those responsible for this conspiracy against us, against our kingdoms and against our people.”
Applause of agreement broke out around the table. For some, the king’s words were simply a summary of what they clearly already knew, but others bent their heads together and began discussing what this might mean and how best to strategize a solution.
Iona still couldn’t believe the king seemed so ready to use his own son as bait. It didn’t matter whether he had made the choice himself or believed the choice to have been inspired by the element of water that worked through him. The fact still remained that he was allowing it.
“Mal,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head with a small smile.
“We must do something to stop it,” he said. “This is the only way.”
She swallowed, thinking of how his trial was simple enough. It made it all the worse. Something that should be cause for great joy would now represent the moment when whoever was behind the threat would be forced to make themselves known. Her hearts beats grew dull at the possibility that he would be in serious danger because of something so well beyond his control. For a brief second there was anger flaring at the king, who seemed so at ease with using his son for a pawn, but the anger died down quickly enough. Malcolm was right. What other choice did they have?
“This must make completing the trial that much easier,” she found herself mumbling.
She had to wonder why she had chosen that comment to finally bring up the subject of his future queen, especially when it must be the complete opposite. A choice that should be allowed to come naturally was now being forced on him by the expectations of a rank he had not aimed or worked for, but been born with. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“No,” he said gently. “You would think that it would make it easier to have the moment one of necessity. That it would offer some clarity. But the trial… there’s more than—”
He was cut off by king Hugh, who said, “How do we know there are not traitors in this room?”
“We don’t,” king Morton replied simply. “To be quite frank, the only people I trust to be on the side of the crowned heads are you, Hugh, and your lovely queen, along with king Greer and queen Maize. The reason for my trust is simple. Each of you have already been through this ordeal yourselves, and you have managed to come out on the other side of it with your elemental magic safe and protected.”
King Morton nodded to each mentioned as a show of respect, then rose to his feet to address the rest of the assembled.
“To the rest of you, I say this: if any of you are part of conspiring against us or are in any way responsible for the plotting of this terrible scourge on our kingdoms, be aware that we are watching and that we are waiting. Perhaps this will be enough to dissuade you from making another ill-advised move against us. If none of you are part of it, then spread the word, quietly. Make it a whispered rumor that we know what is coming and we are prepared for it in ways we have never been before. Let us hope our attackers will see reason, will recognize that they cannot win this, and perhaps that they will simply disperse with no more calamities left in their wake. The kingdoms are united against this threat and together there is nothing we cannot conquer. Now, let’s eat.”
***
When Malcolm, a few hours later, escorted Iona into the great hall, the dancing had already begun. Most of the royals and dignitaries seamlessly joined in the swirling arrangement of skirts and feet, but Malcolm brought her to a space behind one of the large pillars lining the room.
She had gotten the impression there was more he wanted to tell her when it came to him choosing a mate, since he’d been so abruptly interrupted when he’d been in the middle of addressing the subject, but when she noticed him glancing around the pillar at the dancers, she realized he was keeping her from being spotted by Sir Patrick.
“Mal,” she said, eyebrows raised.
“I was meant to have the first dance,” he hissed, though his annoyance wasn’t deeply felt, and this was simply him being territorial. The same way most men would have been. There was nothing more there, surely, and the conviction that this was the case was what brought her to take a step away from him.
“Don’t be a child,” she reproached. “After all, you may have the second dance, if you ask nicely enough.”
“I thought you weren’t going to be dragged onto the dance floor for anything,” he remarked, a soft furrow between his brows, as though he couldn’t believe she was so easily caving now that it wasn’t him who was promising to make her break her vow.
She wasn’t certain why she felt a swirl of triumph at the expression. It wasn’t that she wanted him to care. It wasn’t as though she hoped he’d be jealous of Sir Patrick, that he’d step between them and refuse to let her dance with anyone but him. It wasn’t that. Of course not. That would have been absurd.
“Malcolm,” she said. “I’m not going to hide behind this pillar all evening. Besides, don’t you have someone to woo yourself?”
