Page 37 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
I pause, letting my words sink in. “The dissenters clamor at our doors not because they wish to disrupt our peace butbecause they yearn for a taste of our perfection. But we cannot let their disruptions mar our festivities.”
“Do you really think festivities are appropriate considering Sylvanar’s death?” Legion interjects.
I mentally sigh. He’s always trying to bring the mood down with reality.
“He’s right,” the Duchess remarks. “It is one thing to celebrate in the face of rioting peasants, but it is another to do so when one of our own is lost. Is it not more pertinent to hold a wake than to focus on festivities?”
“Why can’t we do both?” I suggest.
“And what do you propose, Puck?” Lady Nivene asks, leaning forward with interest. Her sea-salt perfume wafts towards me.
“Leave the rioting people to me,” I reply, grinning. “I have a plan that will not only quell their discontent but also provide us with the grandest spectacle Avorlorna has seen. And as to the wake, why not do it at the Solstice Ball during the revelry? We should celebrate life, not death. Otherwise, we draw closer to the Subterranean ways, do we not?”
Murmurs of agreement travel around the table.
Legion challenges, his voice low and threatening, “And what of the increasing danger in our midst? The nightmares cropping up from watergates that should be frozen but aren’t?”
I falter for a moment, caught off guard.“Why does Titania even want the Knights here?”I think.“They belong with Oberon in the Subterranean.”
“Because if she controls them,”the dragon tells me,“she controls the Wild Hunt.”
“A mere hatchling,”I scoff inwardly.
“The hatchling,” he warns,“will soon feed on souls, and once he has no more, he will feed on us.”
“Surely five dragons can overpower one.”
“Four,”he corrects.“The Weaving Hunt is nothing but dreams and starlight.”
“What does that mean?”
But the Hunt goes quiet. I refocus on the Shining Host, determined to win their approval.
“My friends,” I say, my voice low and conspiratorial, “I assure you, I have plans in motion to address these . . . nightmarish intrusions. But to implement them fully, I need your trust, your support.” I look each of them in the eye. “Together, we can ensure that Avorlorna remains a shining jewel, untouched by the darkness threatening to encroach upon us.”
I speak of grand festivals to distract the masses, enchantments to soothe their discontent, and illusions so beautiful they’ll forget their hunger and strife. I promise each dragon-bonded something they desire—more power for Lord Ignarius, finer silks for Lady Nivene, rarer books of magic for Lady Selene. Finally, I declare, “Now, it’s time to ratify my position within the Shining Host as the Baleful Hunt’s new bonded Radiant.”
They stare at me, their dragons alert behind them.
“As the queen’s proxy,” I announce, standing tall, “I am the first to put forward the motion.” I move to the side, affecting a different posture. “And I, Lord Robin Goodfellow, second your motion.”
All we need is one more.
“If you are with me, you know what to say.” I look to each of the Host expectantly, particularly Lord Ignarius. But he remains stubbornly silent, suddenly fascinated by his wine glass.
No one raises their hand. Fury bubbles within me, threatening to burst forth in a torrent of chaos magic.
Until Legion raises his hand, his voice cutting through the tense silence. “Aye.”
The chamber falls silent, all eyes turning to the Knight Commander. There’s only one reason my enemy would vote me in. Mutually assured destruction. He knows I know his Knights are Sluagh—that this very war is likely over them, despite what lies Titania tells the rest of the kingdom.
When he doesn’t share my triumphant grin, I realize that while I may have won this battle, the war between us is far from over.
Chapter 17
Willow
Flames crackle in the upper-level castle library as I give my friends a tour at Geraldine’s request. She’s already compiled a list of research topics to help us win the tournament and bring Fox back.
