Page 9 of The Moon's Fury
“Tamzin isn’t going to like that bit about the architects,” said King Malik, looking almost bored in his straight-backed chair. His son sat beside him, eyes fixed on the table.
“Architects?” questioned Queen Rhapsin of Thessan, the only other female monarch. Her voice was quiet and wise, befitting the ruler of the kingdom home to the Grand Libraries. “I heard Valtisaan has hordes of a special metal, still unknown to the continent. And that his workers disappear without a trace.”
Zarian stiffened beside her.
She glanced at him, but then King Petragh tutted, “No, no. I’ve heard rumors that his workers can wield magic. That’s how his buildings are so moonsdamnedtall.” The room erupted in scoffs.
“In any case,” King Malik said loudly, speaking over the din. “Tamzin is very protective over Valtisaan’s advancements.”
“He should have thought about thatbeforejoining a war against my kingdom,” said Layna coldly.
“Queen Layna’s demands are more than reasonable,” Queen Rhapsin interjected, adjusting her spectacles. “Anything else from Ezanek and Valtisaan?”
“Peace treaties,” added Layna. “I want a guarantee that neither kingdom will ever attack Alzahra unprovoked again.”
“Fair enough,” said King Farzin. With a long-suffering sigh, he asked, “Are we all in agreement?” A chorus of “Ayes” rang out in the large hall. “Good. Now the matter of Zephyria. Queen Layna, what are your demands?”
“Gold, crops and land. Besides that, Jorah and his heir are both dead.” Zarian’s hand clenched into a fist on the table, and Layna resisted the urge to cover it with her own. She took a deep breath and added, “I have no desire for further bloodshed. What position has Zephyria’s council taken?”
“They have laid all blame at Jorah’s feet. They claim they tried to dissuade him from war. Their council unanimously proposed Lord Ebric be named the next king,” said King Farzin.
“Interesting,” remarked King Petragh, resting a hand on his chin, gold rings glinting in the light. “I met him once when he visited Minhypas. He was sweating the entire time. It was our cold season.”
“We will abolish rule through bloodline, then?” asked King Malik, examining his nails. “Insist the monarch is elected? Though that didn’t seem to work out well in Valtisaan.”
“What other choice do we have?” asked King Petragh, glancing around the table.
“We should implement term limits. Perhaps five years?” suggested Lord Ebrahim.
“Agreed,” said Nizam, who had been silently listening until now. Layna avoided his gaze, still fixed to her. “And a probationary period for the first year. If Lord Ebric does notmeet expectations, then the monarchs reserve the right to remove him.”
“That seems severe,” protested King Jehan, leaning forward. Layna appraised him with narrowed eyes.
“Zephyria’s actions were severe. It is well within reason,” Zarian said, scowling as if even the slightest agreement with Nizam challenged his moral code.
“Then, we are all in agreement?” asked King Farzin.
A final chorus of “Ayes” rang out. “Bring them in.”
She held her breath.
A strange mix of apprehension and anger swirled within her. These men had waged war on her kingdom—all of them had indirectly played a role in her father’s death.
Two guards opened the black double doors, and a sad, defeated party slowly filed in. They dragged their feet as if chained, though they were unfettered.
King Faimal of Ezanek, King Tamzin of Valtisaan, and Lord Ebric of Zephyria, the latter who was indeed sweating, his tunic damp under his arms and across his back.
Seeing their faces—their defiance—stoked the flames of her anger.
The guilty trio stood before the assembled monarchs, their gazes surveying the men and women who would decide their fates. The two kings stood defiantly, chins raised. Lord Ebric glanced around nervously, his eyes darting about like a raithbee.
He did a double take when his bespectacled gaze landed on Zarian.
The color drained from his face, knees buckling beneath him. He reached for Tamzin’s shoulder to steady himself, but Tamzin shot him a withering look, lip curling in disgust as he shrugged off the sweaty man’s grasp.
Ebric stared at Zarian, hands shaking at his sides. Realization seemed to dawn on him as his wide eyes lingered on Zarian’s slightly crooked nose. His gaze dropped to the placard in front of Zarian that readNahrysba Oasis. His breathing steadied slightly, but he still looked pale and terrified.
Like he’d seen a ghost.
