Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen

Michyl’s village provided less support than Florine had hoped. All told between the multiple villages, she and Burn stood with twenty families looking to settled in Fortharnor. It wasn’t the aid she had asked for, but some support was better than none, and the families were eager to have a new life within the capital. It was notoriously difficult to be allowed a home in the limited space Fortharnor offered—until Azghar had murdered a significant amount of their population, at least.

With the children they totaled close to sixty, and it was rare to see so many young fairies gathered together. Many saw the decision to have children as selfish, a drain on their limited resources when a single fairy could live upward of two thousand years. Despite that, children themselves were held in high regard.

They advanced toward Fortharnor’s gate with Florine at the lead.

“I challenge Thalom, Son of Herlan, to public debate.” Her voice carried well through the cold air. Snow had fallen the night before, leaving the ground a mess of mud and dead grass.

Guards above whispered loudly. Her challenge was one that could not be ignored, if Thalom wished to be respected as king.

The gate opened a few minutes later.

“It’s that easy?” Burn asked as they passed through.

“Not quite.”

Thalom greeted them with an accompaniment of his personal guards. He was tall and imposing, with muscular arms and thick dragonfly-like wings similar to Florine’s own. The difference was he could use his, while hers were purely decorational as side effect of her human heritage.

Anyone could request a debate at any time, no matter their social standing. The reason it did not happen often was the consequence for losing.

“You have issued a formal challenge, then?” he asked.

Florine straightened her shoulders and set her lips. “I have.”

Thalom bowed and turned heel, making a sign for them to follow. Florine knew the streets well, but much was different from her last visit, and she felt a pang of guilt of her long absence. Serving King Theodore had taken up the past few decades of her life.

“Where is Salmor?” Florine demanded as she trailed behind. The old fairy had been a father figure to both of them, and surely that had caused Thalom to act with some measure of mercy.

“He is well.”

“I request that he mediates this event.”

Thalom laughed. “You challenged me, so the choice is mine.” He pointed to a sturdily-built fairy next to him. “Gerult.”

Florine frowned, but didn’t argue the point. Thalom was within his rights.

They followed the winding streets until they reached the courtyard, located behind the curtain of a rushing waterfall. A large crowd gathered round. In winter, icicles built up along the far edge of the railing but the rest of the area was sheltered by the mountain and it remained haven for important events year-round.

Thalom took one side of the platform—an ancient stone structure build long before Florine’s time—and she took the other. Gerult introduced them and gave a summary of the stakes at hand.

“…the winner shall take the crown and they will be granted power to choose the fate of their opponent.”

Florine felt Burn’s eyes turn to her but she didn’t return his gaze. If she could not convince the majority of the crowd so side with her, her life was forfeit.

“I am the daughter of Lόthril. I seek revenge against Azghar for the crimes he has committed against our kingdom and our people.”

“I am the son of Herlan. I will honor the interests of our people better than one who abandoned us to serve humans.”

Florine set her jaw as the courtyard fell silent. There were no limits to the words they could hurl at one another, provided they were true. The reaction of the crowd was the judge.

“Thalom sided with Azghar, the enemy of our people, to seize my mother’s crown for himself.”

“Florine would know about treachery.” Thalom’s lips formed a sneer as he spoke. “She is King Theodore’s assassin and she murdered his child at his behest. If she thinks so little of the people she knows well, what does she think of us?”

“I was raised here and my loyalties lay with Fortharnor.”

“What loyalties?”

“I saw the bodies Azghar dumped in the swamps.” Venom dripped from Florine’s voice. “Did you help with that or did you stand and watch?”

Thalom’s nostrils flared but he remained his composure. “Give me a single reason why you deserve the crown.”

What reason did she have? Everything Thalom said had been true—she’d spent far too long hiding from her responsibilities by carrying out errands for others. Treacherous errands she had almost convinced herself were necessary.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

“I don’t deserve it,” Florine said. “Ruling this kingdom is a reasonability greater than anyone can bear alone, and anyone who says they deserve it is a liar.”

A murmur ran through the crowd and she saw several fairies nod. Those who had been convinced by Michyl to come with her clapped gently.

“My mother was a great queen, but it is time some traditions change. Fortharnor will be an open city that welcomes all who come in peace, and what remains of our rations will be distributed so that we might all survive the winter.” She met Thalom’s gaze. “How much food are you hording?”

“You live in an idealistic world, child. You didn’t even know your precious Tallon had another lover.”

The words hit Florine like a splash of cold water from the falls. “You lie.”

Thalom laughed with a cruel glint in his eyes. “I saw it myself, and so did Salmor.”

“What would you do for our people as their king?” Florine was desperate to drive the conversation away from such painful topics, even if she knew they were lies. Tallon cheating was impossible to imagine.

“I will strengthen us from within. We do not have the energy to fight in a war that is not our own.”

They threw petty insults back and forth and continued to debate important topics related to the governing of Necd uw rli Feribwenn. The sky had grown dim when Gerult finally called for it to halt.

Florine was close to shaking as she stepped down from the platform and rejoined Burn and the other fairies.

“What do you think?” Burn kept his hood pulled up, feigning a chill, and no one had yet questioned his lineage.

“It’s impossible to say,” Florine admitted. “They will vote and Gerult will announce the results.”

“Won’t he… lie?”

“Perhaps, but he knows I can demand a recount. Three fairies would be chosen for the task: one by me, one by him, and one at random. Lying is only a delay tactic.”

The crowd was not easy to read and Florine was unsure if Thalom would even have a reason to lie.

One by one, everyone but Florine, Thalom, and Gerult wrote their answer on a small tear of parchment, including Burn.

“My fairy is a little rusty, but I think your arguments were good,” he whispered.

Florine appreciated the attempt at humor, but she was in no mood to smile.

Gerult stepped up to the platform and faced the crowd with a grim expression, though in the short time she had known him, that was the only expression he had. He cleared his throat.

“The winner by a small margin is Florine, Daughter of Lόthril.”

A sense of relief washed over Florine, so strong that she nearly fell to her knees.

“Florine has defended her position and she will take the crown,” Gerult continued. “Now she must decide the fate of Thalom, Son of Herlan.”

Death or exile, those were the options.

She had killed so many already—it would be a sign of good faith to spare her disgraced cousin’s life. He was an idiotic parasite that Azghar had used to his advantage, and he was of no real threat with his power taken away.

Thalom groveled on the ground before her, unable to run with the fairies encircling them. Even though many had voted against Florine, the end result was final and they did not question it.

She felt someone place a sword in her hand.

“You do not want to shed more blood,” Thalom said with wide eyes. “You can be better than the person you were.”

The blade cut easily through his flesh and slid between his vertebras,

“I will be better tomorrow, you pathetic worm.”

Killing Thalom gave Florine more satisfaction than she cared to admit, but she moved on to more important tasks. Savoring her victory would wait until later.

At her demand, Gerult led her to a locked bedchamber where Salmor was being held. A wooden beam with heavy weights secured the door, requiring several fairies to move it and making it impossible for a single spell to dislodge it. Other spells provided protection against tampering, such as burning or cutting the wood.

Despite having no windows, the room was properly furnished and did not appear abnormal. Thalom had not dared to disrespect the ancient fairy too much.

“By the waters above and below,” Salmor said at the sight of her. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Florine commanded Gerult to leave, and then selected a well-crafted chair next to Salmor. The room had no hearth, but it shared a complex system of small vents with other rooms that kept them all at an acceptable temperature.

“I see Thalom has treated you well.”

Salmor scoffed. “He refuses to speak to me, because he knows what I will say to him.”

“I challenged him to an official debate and I won.”

“I know.”

Florine looked down and saw she was covered in blood, and when she touched her face, her fingers came away red. “He said Tallon cheated on me.”

Salmor became quiet and frowned, instead of saying how absurd the claim was.

“I couldn’t let Thalom get away with such lies,” she continued, pressing for a response.

“It wasn’t a lie.” Salmor drummed the edge of the chair with his fingers. “I saw it myself, but by the time I had an opportunity to tell you, he was already dead. I had no reason to tarnish your memory of him.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“I would not say anything if I was not absolutely sure.”

Florine breathed deep. It was a matter that happened centuries ago and was, ultimately, trivial. That did not stop her pain from feeling hot and fresh.

She excused herself to speak with the village leaders.

“I must be honest,” Michyl said. “I did not expect you to succeed.”

“Neither did I,” Florine admitted.

“You’ve made many promises, and some are more difficult to fulfil than others.”

“Our magic will help even the gap between Azghar’s army and King Theodore’s.”

Michyl’s face soured. “That is if you reach them in time,” he said. “And even so, it will be a small influence against the Legion.”

“I’ve given that some thought.” Florine paused to watch a young fairy child, perhaps ten or eleven, struggle to drag a box of her family’s belongings inside the palace.

She had spoken to the family earlier, and it was only the girl and her aging grandmother who remained after Azghar’s attacks on the surrounding area. Burn came to the girl’s aid and Florine’s mouth curled into a smile and she watched him struggle with the box as much as the child had.

“I know many of King Theodore’s secrets, and one of them is that he sent me to recover a bluestone some years ago. I hid it and told him I failed the mission.”

“I hardly think that is a wise decision.”

“It would allow our magic to be used in ways that are otherwise impossible.”

Of course, Shera would need to be warned well in advance so as not to put her in danger.

Michyl gave a small bow, signifying his submission to her authority. “Very well, Your Highness.”

Florine waited until Burn finished with his task, and then called him over. She would gather as many fairy warriors as she could, but she wanted Burn by her side on the front line. They made a good team, somehow.

She led them to the royal armory where they could prepare for the journey ahead. She had hidden the bluestone within Erithor’s borders, yet she was confident it had not been found.

It felt good to the walk the halls she knew from her childhood. Her dagger, sibling to Azghar’s, was in the locked vault as she remembered. She paired it with a sword, bow, and fine chainmail armor.

“You can select anything you like,” she told Burn.

Once he was properly outfitted, it was difficult to tell he was not fairy. An elegant, helmet obscured his ears and a cloak did the rest.