Page 6 of Between Smoke and Shadow

It’s her fault I’m here.

The elite sector representatives meet at the end of every season, and typically, Mother leads them. They discuss magic distribution and upcoming contracts, and I’ve heard it’s often past midnight before they adjourn. Onlyheard, because while these meetings are routine for the others here, it’s my first time. I read as many meeting transcripts as I could when Mother abruptly announced my new position, but it doesn’t translate to the real thing. I’ve never been to a sector meeting, and now I’m supposed to lead one.

You will face many surprises if you become king. You must know how to adapt, Harrick,she’d told me.

If.

I didn’t miss the insult. From the moment I was born, taking over as Savoa’s king has been my destiny. And yet, Mother often acts like it’s not, as though this kingdom will never truly be mine.

With a final steadying breath, I look over the representatives. Demetrius Llroy takes a generous chug of nightwater, effectively finishing off his first stein, and refills it for a second. His upper face is concealed by his ornate mask of crushed mirrors, but his lower features are twisted in a scowl.

“Going to let him off with that?” he asks with a grunt. He lifts his gaze to mine, and I can just barely make out his dark eyes behind the tulle of his mask. The elite class don’t have magic, but they do have money. And if Demetrius gets his way, his daughter will soon be my wife. Magic, money, power. It’s all any of these people want.

I ignore Demetrius and turn toward my secondary guard, Dae.

“Fetch me as many menders as you can find. Tell them our shield is compromised,” I say. I should probably just do it myself, but maybe that’s Mother’s true intentions. If I exert all my energy fixing a stupid window, I’ll be too drained to lead this meeting. I’ll fail, and she can add it to her ongoing list of reasons I’m not fit to rule.

Though it’s impossible to see Dae’s face through his wolf mask, I know he’s scowling. He’d once been my and Tora’s friend, but once he became a guard, that ended. Mother had him assigned to me two cycles ago, and though he’smyguard, I know exactly where his true loyalties lie.

“The queen won’t be pleased,” Demetrius continues. “A strong leader knows when to discipline the help.”

“A strong leader knows how to recognize a feeble ploy,” I say. I snatch the pitcher of nightwater from the table and pour myself a stein. Taking a long drink, I relish its burn down my throat.“Torturing innocent men isn’t particularly useful. Wouldn’t you agree, Demetrius?”

“Thatthingis a criminal,” he spits. He leans onto his elbows, the decorative beryls of his suit clanking against the metal table. The man is wearing literal money.

“Enough,” I snap. “We all know what you’ve done, Demetrius. The queen may tolerate—or encourage—your tactics, but I will not. Your hijinks have made this wing vulnerable, so I recommend you settle down before I have you physically removed.”

Demetrius stares at me. My heart races as he assesses me, upper lip twitching. I keep waiting for his response, whether it’s a scoff or an outburst. When neither comes, I shift my weight, refusing to let my gaze wander. The two female representatives, Ksana Renat for the Wilds and Maeve DinSon for the Reaping Grounds, remain perfectly still. Oris Fhell, on the other hand, notes something in his journal.

I wait, holding my breath behind my teeth. I outrank everyone here, but I don’t know what I’ll do if Demetrius Llroy actually challenges me. His mouth curls into a heinous sneer, threatening, even as he shifts back into his seat.

“Now,” I say, steadying my voice. “Let’s begin.”

Oris Fhell will likely havea sore throat tomorrow from all his guttural scoffs, but the meeting has been borderline productive following our rough start. Maeve DinSon approved her contract for the Pit without a single adjustment, and Demetrius eagerly signed his for the City of Mirrors. I assumed he would. Despite everyone else receiving a reduction, Mother managed anincreaseof magic for his sector.

“This isn’t going to work,” Ksana says, smacking her contract against the table. It jostles her mask, and she has to pause to readjust it on her face. Fashioned to symbolize her sector, her olive mask is a blend of creatures from the Wilds. Fish and crocodiles on the left to represent its bottomless lake. Panthers, serpents, and boars on the right for its treacherous forest. Near-transparent mesh covers her eyes, making them easier to see than most.

Ksana Renat is dark-skinned, beautiful, and taller than the majority of men. I always hoped I’d be matched with her daughter, but Mother would never be so kind. According to rumor, she’s going to pair me with Demetrius’s daughter. Viana Llroy. One of the most beautiful faces, paired with the nastiest of hearts.

“It’s the most we can offer,” I say, as if I had any part in the decision. Ksana is right though—Mother nearly halved her magic allocation. I look over my copy of the numbers and resist the temptation to offer more.

“And yet, Demetrius saw an increase,” she argues. “You’re asking us to keep our animals alive and our lake free of salt with…this? It’s preposterous. It’simpossible. We won’t have enough magic to protect both.”

“Well, I vote to save the woodlands,” Demetrius says, voice drawling. “I’m not a fan of fish.”

Ksana’s mouth bobs, much like the fish Demetrius doesn’t like. He smirks at her, flashing his magically-straightened teeth. I often wonder if his entire face has been mutilated by low magic. It would explain the unnatural stretch of his skin and the odd sheen to his dark hair.

“The Flood Season is hardest on the Wilds, and everyone here knows it,” Ksana snaps. She shoves her contract toward the table’s center, glare fixing between me and Demetrius. I hate that she’s somehow teamed us together. “The City of Mirrorsgets more magic during Earthquake Season.Thatmakes sense. Help the commoners survive and give them something with which to rebuild their collapsed structures. But Flood Season is our beast to face. If you?—”

As if awoken at Ksana’s mention of the season, the floor trembles beneath us. Unlike earlier, there’s no mistaking this sensation. It shakes the reflective marble, shooting vibrations up my legs until my knees buckle. My attention darts to the partially-covered window. We’d had a series of earthquakes this morning, mostly small ones that barely affected the Tower. Still, I was convinced we’d had our fill for the day.

Foolish.

The tremor slows, trailing to an eventual stop. I bend my knees, adjusting to the stillness, and keep one hand on the metal table. The four representatives remain in their chairs, but they’ve pressed themselves to the table’s edge, as if it will protect them. We look amongst each other, our quiet breaths filling the room.

“Perhaps only the one?” asks Joran from the wall.

He’s my primary guard, recognizable by his impressive stature. He’s taller, broader, and stronger than any other guard in the lineup. Stepping from the wall like a detached shadow, Joran crosses the room to stand beside me.

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