Page 9 of A War of Crowns

With an effort, Seraphina shoved aside the memory, burying it back where it belonged in the dark corners of her mind. But she knew it would return. It always did.

Like an infection her body refused to shake.

“Stop,” Seraphina commanded when her eyes flashed back open. “Wewillhave order in the council chamber.”

Her manners mistress had always told her a princess must not shout. A princess must not make a fuss. A princess must not take off her jewel-encrusted shoes and lob them at a man’s head, no matter how much he deserved it. A princess must be seen, but not heard. She must do what she was told.

But Seraphina was no longer a princess.

Eyes locking upon each of her councilors in turn, she continued with, “We will not sit here and insult one another. This is what theEnemy wants—for us to fight amongst ourselves rather than focus on saving our people.”

Looking at Sir Easome in particular, she added, “And we will not again suggest any member of this council is disloyal to the Crown because of their faith. Need I remind us all that my spymaster also prays to the Lady? And no one here would dare questionherloyalty to me.”

With a grunt, her godfather, Duke Percival, muttered to her in an aside, “Yes, and one wonders just where Mistress Olivia is this morning. Her reports would be useful right about now.”

Breathing out a quiet sigh through her nose, Seraphina dipped her head in acknowledgment of her Lord Chancellor’s words. But there was no point in sending a runner to locate Olivia. If the woman was absent, it was for a good reason.

Olivia was never late to anything without good reason.

“From here on out,” Seraphina decreed, “we will only discuss solutions. Now.” She flicked a glance between Sir Easome and her Lord Exchequer, the Count of Wellane. “How will we break the siege on Mysai?”

Wellane sighed, rubbed his temple, and consulted the open ledger before him. “Well, Your Majesty. We need more men on the ground, but I’m wondering—to be frank—where we will conjure up the funds. Are we still against seeking a loan from the city-states…?” He looked at her over the rim of his spectacles, his expression hopeful.

Seraphina shook her head in reply. The City-States of Fortuna was a nation of merchant princes and bankers—cutthroat andruthless with their interest rates. She would do a great deal to save her people, but she was not yet ready to sign away her soul.

Sir Easome interjected, “Then we instate another draft, Your Majesty. We can lower the age from eighteen to sixteen.”

Seraphina swallowed hard and again shook her head. “We can’t conscript children into the Elmorian army, Sir Easome.”

Duke Percival heaved out a sigh and removed his glasses so he could rub his eyes. “It seems the only true solution here is that we appeal to our allies again, Your Majesty. The Holy Lothmeeran Empire, to start.”

Seraphina slanted her godfather a sidelong glance before she turned her head to the left to look upon quiet Father Perero, their Shepherd there in the capital of Goldreach. “What are your thoughts, Father?” she gently prompted, earning a frown from the elderly man.

Though the Holy Lothmeeran Empire was ruled by its emperor, it was common knowledge that said emperor only ever acted on matters of politics when the High Shepherd of the Lord’s Church bid him to act. If anyone would know whether Lothmeer would rise to Elmoria’s call now, it was her own holy advisor.

“The empire prefers to remain neutral in such things, Your Majesty,” Father Perero slowly reminded the room, though his attention was mostly on her. “But I can write to the High Shepherd and suggest that, perhaps, the Church should view this war with Arath as a holy war. The people of Mysai have been Elmorian citizens for two centuries now. Almost all have converted to theLord’s faith. If he agrees with me, perhaps he will speak to the emperor on our behalf.”

Seraphina breathed out a sigh of relief and hazarded a small smile at last. “Thank you, Father. That would be helpful.”

But the Duke of Coreto was clearly not convinced. “We all know it will be at least five years before the empire sends us any aid at all.”

Duchess Edith added her own voice to the conversation yet again. “I believe we are all forgetting Elmoria has another ally, no? The King of Drakmor. Drakmor shares a border with Arath. If we can convince him to mobilize troops, the siege on Mysai could be broken easily enough.”

Again, Coreto barked out a laugh.

“Drakmor?” The duke dismissed her godmother’s suggestion with a flick of his wrist and proclaimed to the rest of the room, “My intelligence tells me that His Majesty has not returned any ofHerMajesty’s correspondence, and I am sure we all understand why.”

Seraphina’s jaw tightened at that as she was, yet again, acutely reminded of just why she disliked the Duke of Coreto. One of the many reasons why. Had she her way, that arrogant relic would have been bodily removed as a member of the Royal Privy Council the moment she was crowned queen five months ago.

But her godfather had advised against it.

He hadstronglyadvised against it.

“Your father understood the wisdom of staying on Coreto’s good side, Your Majesty,”Duke Percival had sighed the first time she suggested ejecting the senior nobleman from the council.“And Iwould…suggestwe employ a similar wisdom during your own reign, insufferable though the man may be.”

And so Seraphina endured the Duke of Coreto’s presence.

She still reserved the right to loathe the man, though.

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