Page 59 of Blood Red Woes

As a response, I lift my arm and in the same motion, my fingertips come alive with tiny white sparks. My tattoo glows, and I hear many audible gasps in the room.

“Witchcraft,” Hazor hisses. “It must be witchcraft for a foreigner to wield the magic only our empresses can—”

It is Kretia who interrupts him and says, “Frederick relayed to us what you saw in Acadia’s castle. If her son sits on the throne…” She glances at Aolia, but the serene woman says nothing. “Perhaps you became an empress the very moment you came upon our lands.”

“Nonsense,” Ravenno says, and Hazor is quick to agree with him. These guys go around and around; I can easily see how they can sit around and argue with each other, and never get anything done.

Finally, Aolia speaks. She leans forward, eyes on me, as she says, “You went to Pylos just as you ventured deep into Acadia. What did you find there?”

I glance at Frederick, and he gives me a short nod. “I found Gladus.”

“And?” Kretia asks, her hands tightening on the armrests. Though she sent me away, it looks as though she’s afraid to hear what I have to say. I suppose I can’t blame her, since she is—or was—Gladus’s devout follower.

“And we fought,” I say. “She didn’t win.”

If murmurings filled the room before, a cacophony of sound rises now. Everyone talking, each with their own thoughts on the matter. Some claim I’m lying. As I watch the men and women before me, I can see their opinions are divided.

I reach into my bag. “I brought this back with me.” Pulling out the hilt, I hold it high so that those in the audience can see it. With the sun shining through the windows behind the councilmen and women, the metallic hilt appears otherworldly.

Kretia sucks in a breath as her eyes widen. “The Hilt of Storms.”

I step off the circular stone and move toward the council. I place the hilt on the first step of the altar they sit upon. A part of me doesn’t believe in what Frederick said, that this can’t be a Thor’s hammer situation, but the gravity of it all is finally hitting me. Each one of them appears shocked at the sight.

It is Ravenno that stammers out, “Ridiculous. It must be a forgery.”

“Pick it up, then,” Aolia suggests.

Ravenno snickers as he stands, and he glares at me all the while. Within a moment, he’s bending and reaching for the hilt, but before his hand can curl around the grip, he winces and steps back. When he looks at his palm, the glove on his right hand is singed off, the flesh beneath it burned.

Holy shit. Frederick was right.

“It is true, then,” Kretia speaks. “You defeated Empress Gladus. You can wield the Hilt of Storms. You are unaffected by the scourge and can walk through the shadowstorms as if they are nothing.”

As Ravenno lumbers to his seat, holding his hand against his chest with a sneer on his face, Aolia says, “We misjudged you when you first arrived here. We are a people so caught in our old ways we cannot see the walls crumbling around us, but no more.”

Through gritted teeth, Ravenno mutters, “No more indeed.”

Hazor whips his head in their direction. “What is your meaning? As far as we know, that’s a forgery dipped in poison and what she showed us is nothing but a trick of light—”

I don’t appreciate the way he’s talking about me, so even though it might not be the best idea, I go for the hilt. Once it’s in my hand, I lift it high again, only this time I bring it to life. No storms necessary for me. The Hilt of Storms sizzles and ignites,a whiter color than it was when Gladus had it, but still a magical blade all the same.

“How’s that for a trick of the light?” I ask snippily as I continue to hold the magical blade high.

The four that make up the council glance at each other. The two on the sides lean over and they whisper amongst themselves. I glance at Frederick as I lower the hilt. “I’m glad that worked,” I say as I stop funneling magic to the hilt and stuff it back in my bag.

To the four before us, Frederick says, “What you’ve seen today is undeniable proof. Even if you don’t want to think of Rey as an empress, it’s proof enough that she defeated Empress Gladus. With her immunity to the woes, she might be our only hope.”

Ugh, there goes that only hope saying again. It’s exactly what I don’t want to be.

The four on the council all look at me, and I take a step forward and say, “Look. I can forgive and forget the whole jail thing. Let me make this easy for you: I don’t want to be an empress. I just want to go home. If there are any resources you can give me to help me get home, I’d be grateful.”

Kretia stands, and the others stand with her. “We recognize your deeds and who you are. This meeting of the conclave is done. We will reconvene in the morning to see if there is any way we can aid you in your quest, Empress.”

I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t want to insult them, so I hold back. I’m no empress, but if they can help me somehow… I guess I’ll have to keep my mouth shut.

Frederick taps me on the arm. “Come on. We should get out of here before everyone else. If we don’t, I fear you’ll be trapped here shaking hands and meeting all the nobles. There are other people who’d like to meet you in the lower city.”

I’d rather meet regular people than nobles, so I follow Frederick out of the chamber. Some of the audience tries to get my attention as we pass, but I keep my head down and avoid eye contact.

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