Bounty Hunter (The Black Tulip Chronicles #1)

7. Ikar

Chapter 7

Ikar

I t’s much too soon to revisit this uncomfortable seat, but I force myself to sit and watch the lower kings closely, waiting patiently for the ceremonial beginnings to finish before I bring up the topic of our meeting.

“I’ve called a meeting of the kings to discuss the issue of growing gloam. The Originators have worked well until now. Now, we need a solution.”

Rhomi and Drade’s expressions are neutral. Waylon’s eyes turn hard, but a mocking smile begins to lift his lips. He’s of the mind we wait. I disagree.

“What solution could there be? Didn’t we just discuss this?” Waylon asks sourly.

I pause a moment, and when no one speaks up, I forge ahead. “The Queens of the Night. The Tulips.” My tone dares any one of them to challenge me.

I hear the quill that Rhomi has been spinning around drop to the table. Drade’s eyes widen, and a strangled sound escapes Waylon’s throat .

Adrian curses. “They’ll take over your kingdom in a fortnight,” he growls, actually alert.

“But will they? Can they?” I look around the circle of powerful rulers. “Have any of you found an actual record showing that that has happened?” I hope no one brings up the seer vision. This fire doesn’t need more fuel.

Waylon scowls at me across the oblong table. “You are young, Your Majesty, so you may have been saved the horror of the stories that have been passed down for generations. No record is required. All that matters is that it is possible for them to destroy our kingdom. I advise an immediate vote.”

I sit back, giving off a relaxed air when inside my body is tense as a clenched fist. My brows raise at his powerful rejection. “You refuse to consider an idea that, according to historical records, preserved magic and maintained its powerful and balanced state?”

Everyone’s eyes swing from me back to Waylon. A vein in his forehead throbs. “Is anything worth risking our kingdoms to those… manipulating thieves? The Night Queens ?” He sounds truly disgusted. I decide not to correct him on their proper name right now, or the fact that they are my kingdoms.

“If one of us does it, we risk encouraging the dratted vixens and having more of them springing up.” Then he looks at me hard. “Aside from that, you have committed to Nadiette.”

“You forget your place, Waylon,” I say coldly.

The room goes silent, and my guards step up behind me at my tone, waiting for my command. I could arrest him in a moment, raise his taxes, send more of my men to watch his courts—but I won’t. I need the unity of the low kings, and I won’t get it by force.

I allow a moment for the chastisement to sink in around the room. “My commitment above all is to my kingdom and it always will be,” I state forcefully. He is her uncle, so I am not surprised at his reaction. Though I didn’t realize it was possible for a frown to grow so dark, he brings to mind the face of a deathstalker with his brows so low. Not a good look for him, but I move on. I have more to say. “And they do not spring up . They are chosen by magic, as the rest of us are. All to play a purpose and combine our efforts to better our world.”

Waylon’s face is still flushed from my reprimand, but again, he pushes back. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” His voice is like a viper. “Truly, though, it is reckless and puts our entire kingdom at risk if we introduce one of them back into a ruling position.”

Drade keeps his face expressionless, but I see the dark intensity in his eyes. Rhomi fidgets, looking indecisive. “It’s possible for them to take over our minds, our kingdoms?”

Waylon nods solemnly.

I step in then, watching the actions before me with deepening anger. I direct a blazing glare at Waylon. “There is no proof of what you say.” I’m a hair’s width from setting my guards on the insubordinate leech.

I could offer a vote right here, right now. As High King, I have the ability to over-rule a vote if it doesn’t end in my favor, but it can lead to rebellion and war, something I don’t want. It could kill my people much faster than the growing gloam. Tensions are strung tight in the room.

“All in favor of the Tulips, raise your hand,” I say.

Drade raises a hand. Rhomi’s twitches on the table, my eyes practically willing it to join mine and Drade’s, but it doesn’t.

“All in favor of waiting, raise your hand.”

Waylon, Adrian, and slowly, Rhomi’s hands rise.

I inwardly scoff at the cowardly men who call themselves kings. The meeting is done. Nothing I say will budge the other kings at this point, and I have no choice but to agree to the useless plan. In reality, it’s no plan. For now. I want to fight back, I want to stand up and tell them that as High King, I will find a Tulip and they can say nothing, but I can’t. The teaching, drilled into my very soul from the time I was a child, was to do all that I can to keep relations between the low kings and myself in a careful balance, sometimes requiring compromise on my part. But this seems like too much. All I can hope is that my kingdom survives until I can convince them.