Page 11 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

Alaric choked on a gulp of water. “You are out of line, Bayrd.”

To have my nerves played like a violin by the Volantain leader was not new, but he’d chosen an ill time. He was lucky I liked my marble table clean from blood.

Bayrd’s white feathered wings twitched just slightly behind him. “We all are owed to know, especially my son. The two were destined to marry.”

Smile and blink. Smile and blink. If his tribe didn’t adore the ground this man stepped on, I would have fed Memphis his guts long ago.

Cai snorted from beside me. “Easy throwing destiny and greed in a bag, old man Bayrd.”

The Volant tribe leader sneered, red creeping up his neck. He had a thing about Cai. Something about him losing to his father for the general position in my grandfather’s court. Grudges ran deep in my kind, I suppose.

“How will it be, Snow?” Lazarus asked. From the unusual calm of his tone, he was trying to manhandle me of a sort. “Will you correct this issue? The bargain has been fulfilled, you could have him threatened to annul.”

Cai chuckled beside me. “Highly doubt Kilian will take well to threatening less to letting her go.”

Bayrd’s wings stirred. “And what do you propose, General, since you are so proficient at solving this situation?”

I should stop this. Really, I should, but I missed the entertainment.

Cai mimicked Bayrd’s movement, leaning back on his seat. “Leave it be. We are in a situation where respecting tradition should be the least of our worries. Our queen is also more than capable of ruling Olympia as proficiently as she has done it for the past seven years. A king will aid nothing to the throne nor to the situation. Unless you see her rule to be lacking. Is that what you are trying to say?”

Bayrd’s eyes shifted uneasily from me to the rest of the council. “You all well know that is not what I meant.”

“Then it is settled,” Cai said, standing. “With your permission, my queen, I’d like to leave for Eredyn.”

My queen. He’d only addressed me as that once before, as a joke when I got crowned. Cai was not mad at me, he was furious. Issue was that I didn’t know for what reason. For lying to him in Adriata or for lying to him yesterday when he’d tended to my hands after I’d broken several of my knuckles?

“What will we do about the sceptre pieces?” Cori, leader of Kvan and the youngest among us, asked. “Will we have to gather them all?”

“One is all I need,” I said. “If I find one, we can place it under craft and father could hunt it down for all of his lifetime if he wishes to do so.”

“How would we do that when even our elders have not heard of such a thing?” Leanna, the Llyn tribe leader, pointed.

Craning my neck to the side, I eyed my silent Dark Crafter. Fiddling with one of her beaded bracelets, her attention poked holes on my very expensive marble table. “What is it, Visha? Did they cut your tongue after I went away? You are unusually quiet.”

Her sea foam green eyes grew wide as did her red flush of embarrassment over her freckled face that matched the vibrant colour of her hair. “Your father, how did he find out about this? The last time the sceptre was used, all knowledge about it was burned and destroyed. Very few must still know about it, very few that would have already sworn to secrecy.”

“You know about the Octa Virga?”

She gave me a small nod. “Before the sceptre was broken in pieces, it was kept in the Isle of Nephthys, guarded by Dark Crafters and eudemons of Golgotha. Celesteel and Golgotha had both been tasked to allow only those worthy of using the sceptre to access it. Nephthys' waters and air are poison, and Golgotha is still a god.”

“They did not do a very good job, then,” Alaric said with a sigh.

The witch shook her head. “Kegan, king of Seraphim, used his child to retrieve it. He’d studied the sceptre for years before and started to fill his youngest daughter’s head with tales of heroes and ridiculous dangers this realm had to fight to survive. He’d faked plagues and wars. Groomed and raised her a hero in the eyes of his people, having her fight sea monsters and evil of all sorts for years before he sent her to retrieve the sceptre. She was of pure heart and clean intentions; Golgotha’s truth eudemons and Crafter veils had let her breeze through to the tower of Nephthys where the sceptre was kept.”

“Who knew of this, witchling?” I asked.

“Only the Grand Maidens. Ancient knowledge is passed to us from one to another during our training because we are still tasked with the upkeep of Nephthys.” Visha, too, was destined to become a Grand Maiden one day. The one day she would never allow to come. And for that, she’d come to seek my help.

“Are you implying Urinthia has sided with Silas?” Alaric asked, leaning in with concern.

The witch straightened in her seat. “If there is one thing my mother enjoys is chaos. But this is not her work. Gods forbid because if it was, Silas would already have the whole Octa Virga completed.”

“Melanthe Delcour is a close second,” Nia said. “We can presume she is the one to reveal it to him.”

Visha jerked her head in disagreement, unruly ruby curls falling over her eyes. “She would not know. My cousin doesn’t possess that form of knowledge, nor would she have ever had, and if she did, there is only so much a Summoner can do to work out the location of the pieces. She is trained to lure magic into her, to use it as a centre scent that attracts other magic and creatures to her from this realm and many more. Besides little tricks like that and simple craft like veils and traces, there is not much she can do.”

“Nia,” I said, turning to my friend. “Head to Eldmoor and enter Red Coven later this week, after the coast is cleared of Isjordian soldiers. Keep an eye on Urinthia. At the first interaction you see with my father, notify me.”