*THIS NOVEL IS A SEQUEL TO WILD CARD & CANNOT BE READ AS A STANDALONE*
There is a legend that one in four royal advisor-mages will betray their monarch, overthrow them for power.
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Gwenore, the new Queen of Acewood, is on a throne most would kill...
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"But is a giant ball necessary?" I guzzled down drop after drop of the raspberry-flavored liquor I favored, well aware I should have been drinking water instead. And yet the burn of the alcohol numbed my throat to the pain I'd been experiencing all morning. "Why not a quick get-together during the day to swear me in and bless me? Why all the theatrics?"
"Majesty, we discussed this." Sir Sym, to my left, continued to jot down who-knew-what on his parchment, his corn-colored quill quivering with his every scratch. "It's a statement. And it's essential to prove to all that you mean business."
The worn-down, wooden meeting room throne was agonizing. Worse than the throne room's ornate seat. The lack of cushions and simple comforts prompted me to almost miss the glacial seat I lounged on in Club Fields.
I rested the back of my head against the engraved heart, spade, club, and diamond, all interwoven into one symbol—the royal Efuran sigil. But there was no serenity to the symbol, no ease to the tasks it made me responsible for.
I had so many memories of this chamber adjoining the throne room. Hiding under the narrow oak table, sneaking behind the plush red velvet curtains, scribbling our names at the bottom of the shiny silver walls.
Those memories helped me sit up straight, though I wanted to slouch, slink to the polished floors and melt through them to land in the basement.
The people before me—my trusted advisors, my beloved sisters, my dearest allies—couldn't see me weak. I'd never shown my fears in their presence and didn't plan to do so today. Or ever.
"Yes, and my business is to investigate Spade Island and its surroundings! Not sit on a decorated chair wearing a ridiculous outfit as some mage mutters prayers while putting the crown I already wear on my head." I wheezed, overwhelmed by the words spewing out without my control.
"It will not be ridiculous," said Tilda, offense obstructing her otherwise impeccable face. Her tiny tiara of heart-shaped garnets threatened to shimmy off her short-cut curls as she puffed out an unsteady breath. "The outfit I am designing for you is beautiful, actually."
I didn't doubt her. She had tremendous taste in fashion and a keen eye for patterns that complemented one another. In the few days since she'd returned to Acewood, she'd already drawn up new uniforms for all the guards, put together several gorgeous gowns for Lady Ossenna, and offered to re-do my entire wardrobe.
I appreciated her talents, but today I found them to be unimportant.
"It's true," said Astrida, toying with a grape on her plate. "I saw it."
"But is it practical? Will I wear it again, or are the excess materials better kept for more important things? For masks, additional armor, suits?" I slammed my goblet onto the table, wincing at the liquid that spilled over. "I'd prefer riding gear, something for traveling. And I need to travel, to interrogate inhabitants of the island, locate the mermaid cove, their secret home. Could you stitch up something waterproof, instead?"
