The Last Throne of Golah

Chapter 11

In front of them was a watery image of Andras, wearing his pale seer robes, standing inside Morgana's empty bedroom with the poppet in his hand. Sunlight spilled through the open balcony and over the bed, where he crouched and tucked the poppet between the mattress and the bedframe. An oily feeling seeped into Morgana's gut. There was something so invasive about Andras being in a space where Morgana slept. A private place where she'd thought she'd be safe.

"That conniving little shit," Aelys hissed.

The image rippled and disappeared only to be replaced by a new one. This time Andras was in the council room. He stood in front of Erik, who wore a dark velvet suit and a gold crown. Erik lounged on a chair near the crackling fireplace.

Morgana stiffened.

"I've done it, Your Majesty. The poppet will ensure that her magic is weakened in case the elixir fails," Andras said.

Erik gave Andras a look of approval. "Good work, High Seer."

The image faded and the water became clear. The candles flickered back to life, chasing away the darkness from Briar's cottage. There was a moment of silence where Aelys's lips pursed, Briar shook her head in disgust, and a storm brewed in Caliath's eyes.

Cold rage expanded inside Morgana, like hoarfrost spreading across a meadow. "That's why my magic stopped working." Her voice wavered. "This whole time, I thought that something was wrong with me. First the elixir and now this? When will it end?" She placed her head in her hands. "He'll stop at nothing to make sure I'm weak."

Aelys rubbed a hand on Morgana's back. "At least you know now."

"It wasn't burn out after all." Briar leaned back in her chair and folded her arms.

"I want to crush that worm," Caliath seethed.

"Which one? Erik or Andras?" Morgana lifted her head.

Everyone chuckled.

"Both," Caliath answered, offering Morgana a grin.

"The only thing I can do now is to find out if there's a way for this poppet to be destroyed." Morgana picked up the grimoire and began flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. "To undo the poppet's magic, I'll have to burn it."

"Thank Goddess." Briar exhaled and rested her arms on the table. "I was worried the poppet may have been one of those permanent ones. Meredith used to make poppets that lasted until the intended's death. In her case that was a good thing because she used them for healing. But still ..."

"Thankfully it isn't." Aelys fished the poppet out of the bowl and used her air magic to dry it out. "I hate to think what could've happened."

"Everything would've been ruined." Morgana's mouth was a grim line. "At least this poppet was made by a fae which was why it wasn't as strong."

"Yes, but Andras is a gifted fae. He's the High Seer, so it could've been worse."

Ice settled into Morgana's gut. "But how did he know how to make a poppet? He's not a healer."

"He probably learned it at the Seer Sect."

"I can burn it," Caliath offered.

"I have to do it," said Morgana. "It was used against me and only the intended or the maker of the poppet can undo it because we're magically bound to it."

Briar placed a metal tray onto the table and smirked. "For its funeral pyre."

Morgana picked up the poppet and, once again, a strange cold zap went through her fingers. She dropped it onto the tray and couldn't wait to burn the thing that had crippled her magic for the past few weeks. Caliath handed Morgana a candle and she touched the flame to the poppet's dress, flames streaked up it and set the ribbon alight. She touched the candle to the henbane which curled and blackened. A foul odor went into the air as the fire consumed the poppet. Soon, it was a smoldering pile of embers.