HOUSE OF CURSES (Royal Houses #3)

2. The Nomination

2

THE NOMINATION

Audria’s jaw dropped. “But she’s a first-year member.”

“I am aware of that, Mistress Audria,” Bastian said with a rueful smile on his lips.

“Of … of course,” she said softly.

Master Bastian had been in the Society a long time. When he had been young, his house had caught on fire. His tribe, Elsiande, was against using magic, and the nearest healer was hours away. By the time they reached him, he was disfigured with burn scars on his face and body. He’d refused treatment for removal of the scars and dedicated his life to helping those in need.

“But first years are never nominated to the council,” Roake said, speaking what they were already thinking.

“Indeed,” Bastian said. “But times are changing. Are they not?”

Kerrigan nodded. Times were definitely changing. “I’ll go with you.”

“Excellent,” Bastian said.

She said her good-byes to her friends before stepping up to her mentor’s side. She still found it hard to believe that she’d been assigned to Master Bastian. He was one of her closest allies in the mountain. Not to mention, a council member himself. It felt like a step in the right direction finally. The Society had never wanted a half-Fae who hadn’t yet reached her eighteenth name day into their midst. But she had succeeded at every turn, and she intended to continue to do so.

She and Bastian navigated the winding corridors inside Draco Mountain, the seat of the Society in all of Alandria. The Society was the ruling body over the capital city of Kinkadia and the twelve—now thirteen—tribes of the land. The dragon riders brought peace to the large island, and though Kerrigan bucked at their outdated ideas, she still believed they were doing more good than harm.

“What am I walking into?” Kerrigan asked.

Bastian smiled warmly down at her. “It’s not always an investigation. You can relax.”

She frowned. “That’s not been my experience. For all I know, I’m going to walk in there, and someone is going to try to arrest me for the audacity of being nominated. As if I nominated myself. As if I’d even want to be on the council.”

“Don’t you?” he asked evenly.

“I don’t know.”

She adjusted her own black Society robes. They were so new that she still wasn’t used to them on her figure. For twelve years in the House of Dragons she’d admired Society members in these robes, and now that they belonged to her, she felt like a kid playing dress-up.

She even remembered one time when Lyam had filched a set of robes and she walked around in them. Hadrian and Darby were dismayed, urging them to get rid of them. But she and Lyam had been inseparable and utterly rebellious. That had been before he fell in love with her … before he was killed, trying to protect her. She reached reassuringly in her pocket to finger Lyam’s compass. It was all she had left of him, and it brought her courage in the darkest times.

“Explain,” Bastian encouraged.

“On one hand, I think about all the good I could do if I was on the council. On the other hand, I’ve been in the Society for two weeks. How am I ever going to be able to represent the entire Society? There are only twenty spots. It seems madness that anyone would want me to have one of them.”

“I remember that feeling,” Bastian admitted. “I was young when I was nominated. Not as young as you, of course.”

“I’m not even eighteen yet. Under normal circumstances, I couldn’t even compete in the tournament.”

“Your circumstances are extraordinary,” he agreed, “but the feeling is the same. I didn’t feel qualified, but someone else recognized the work that I’d been doing. They saw what I could become. And others have seen that in you, Kerrigan. Remember that when you feel like you don’t deserve your position, others have seen your greatness.”

“No pressure.”

He laughed softly. “Precisely.”

Bastian’s words had the desired effect. Her nerves settled as they entered the council chamber. It was an enormous room, built to house the entire Society if need be. The ceiling went up endlessly to allow for the dragons to participate from their vantage point. In fact, she could see her own dragon, Tieran, up in the dizzying heights.

He tugged on the bond and said gently into her mind, What did you do this time?

She snorted, wishing she could send him a rather vulgar gesture. But her expression must have given it away because he rumbled with laughter.

Bastian squeezed her shoulder once and then took his spot on the council with the other eighteen members and the head of council.

The empty spot where Lorian Van Horn had sat sent a chill through her. To everyone present, Lorian was a convicted traitor to the Society. He’d sold illegal magical artifacts to the House of Shadows, and his hatred of half-Fae and humans had led him to work with the enemy during wartime. Kerrigan had personal reasons for disliking him, including him being the reason she had been kicked out of the program to begin with. It was her testimony that had gotten him killed.

And it was her who had discovered he wasn’t at all who she’d thought he was. She helped sentence an innocent man to death. The whole thing had been a setup by the real leader of the Red Masks—a terrorist group that wanted to destroy half-Fae and humans alike. Now, the leader of that group was among them, and Kerrigan was no closer to finding out who it was. Though she had something she hadn’t had last time—a spy on the inside.

“Ah, there you are,” Presiding Officer Zoh said. “Mistress Kerrigan, please step forward.”

Kerrigan headed into the center of the room. Three other Society members stood in a line. She only recognized one of them—Master Durban. He was from Galanthea tribe, one of the three warring tribes to the west coast of Alandria. Despite having no war affiliation, Hadrian had chosen Galanthea tribe to work with his sponsor, Fallon, a distinguished scholar who was a previous tournament contender. Durban had tried for a council spot last election and lost out by a fraction. Everyone considered him a shoo-in this time. He didn’t look pleased to see her.

The one woman wore a teal headscarf so much like the former tournament competitor, Noda, that Kerrigan’s heart squeezed at the sight. That meant she was from the island tribe of Concha on the east coast. The other man wore a pink cravat and top hat, revealing him of tribe Elsiande from the south, same as Bastian.

“We are still waiting on one more nominee,” Master Zoh said, “and then we will begin.”

Durban took a step forward in outrage. “The girl?”

Kerrigan’s face flushed.

Master Zoh looked down imperiously. “Back in line, Master Durban. Mistress Kerrigan is a full member of the Society and thus deserves your respect.”

“But she’s a leatha,” he snarled.

Kerrigan’s embarrassment turned to fury. Leatha was an ancient Fae term that meant half-Fae, which had been stolen and turned into a slur that meant, at best, half-breed b***h. It was not used in polite company. So, it was one thing to be called a leatha on the streets of Kinkadia, in taverns, and from bigoted idiots. It was another thing entirely for someone to use that filthy name inside the council room.

And the rest of the council must have felt the same way. Many gasped, and hands went to hearts and mouths. Zoh looked ready to combust.

“Master Durban,” Zoh said,, “we do not allow that kind of language in the council room. Get back in line.”

Durban must have realized his error because he hastily retreated. Kerrigan clenched her hands into fists and was glad that she was on the other side of the room from him. She was too used to her training in the Wastes as a street fighter, where that word was met with fists and fury and not polite smiles and a reprimand.

A slow, measured tap on the floor drew everyone’s attention away from Durban. To Kerrigan’s shock, Alura Van Horn hobbled into the room.

“Ah, Mistress Alura, excellent. Please get into position, and we’ll begin.”

Alura had been Kerrigan’s commander for her year of dragon training. She was tall with skin the color of midnight, and her dark hair was cornrowed off of her proud face. She was the best warrior of a generation. The lone winner of the previous tournament after the humans Cyrene and Dean won and took their dragons to distant shores to fight their own battle, upending the entire system with their departure.

Then, Alura had gone up against Fordham’s sister, Princess Wynter Ollivier of the House of Shadows, in the Battle of Lethbridge. Wynter blasted her with the dark shadow magic and nearly died. She had survived but now had to walk with a cane. Her once-proud, battle-ready figure destroyed in her first real battle. It was shocking that she was here. She hadn’t been seen since her father’s trial.

Alura caught Kerrigan’s eye and glared before moving to stand beside Durban instead. She would never forgive Kerrigan for being responsible for her father’s death.

“That’s everyone. As you were made aware, you five are nominated to join our illustrious council. We keep a seat of twenty at all times,” Master Zoh said. “There are two open seats this year. Lorian’s seat as well as whichever council member ascends to my position. Yes, this is my last year as presiding officer.”

A smattering of applause was made for that announcement. Zoh smiled reassuringly.

“As I am leaving, we will also have a presiding officer election, and Master Bastian and Mistress Hellina have put forth their hats for the job.”

Helly and Bastian came to their feet, staring at each other with a small head nod to the other. Kerrigan’s two mentors running against each other. She couldn’t be further in the middle of this.

“Yes, yes, wonderful,” he said. “The election will be at the end of June. Society members will convene here from all corners of Alandria for one week. A ball will take place to introduce you to the Society. Between now and then, you are allowed to campaign how you see fit for your position, but only two of you will come out of this victorious. Are there any questions?”

Durban stepped forward, and they began a lively discussion of the types of appropriate campaigning. Kerrigan’s heart sank at the thought. The people loved her in the city, but they weren’t the ones who were going to get to vote. Another thing she found ridiculous. The Society council ruled over everyone everywhere, and yet only members could even vote in the election.

Regardless, she didn’t have the funds or the time to travel to all the tribes to petition them to vote for her. She couldn’t do much of anything, except speak her truth and hope that was enough.

When the conversations finally died out, they were dismissed. She took a step toward Alura, but her glare was so terrifying that Kerrigan stopped in her tracks. She’d never been on friendly terms with Alura. She had been her commander, not her friend. But Kerrigan hadn’t seen her actively angry.

“I’m being nominated for this because of you,” she hissed at Kerrigan.

“Me?” she asked in confusion.

“My father is dead, and there are those who believe a Van Horn should take his spot.”

“I … I am sorry, Alura.”

“Save it,” she snarled. “You couldn’t speak for him when you knew he was innocent. There’s nothing you can do now.”

Then, she took her cane in hand and stalked from the room.

Helly appeared at her side with a sigh. “Give her time. She’s still grieving.”

“Of course.” She looked up into Helly’s face. “Presiding officer?”

“Ah, yes, well, it’s about time, isn’t it?”

Kerrigan nodded. “Long past time.”

“I won’t ask for your vote. I know that Bastian is your mentor.”

And Helly was her mother in all but name. Almost thirteen years ago at the age of five, her father had left her with Helly at the footsteps of Draco Mountain. She’d joined the House of Dragons, thanks to Helly, and she had looked after Kerrigan ever since. The vote would not be easy.

“Does that mean I can ask for yours?”

Helly laughed sharp and short. “I suppose you can.”

Helly put a hand on Kerrigan’s shoulder, and together, they headed out of the chamber.

Kerrigan swallowed and looked up at Helly, wearing the navy-blue House of Stoirm coat of arms pin on her lapel. “Any news from the House of Shadows?”

Helly sighed. “If you mean, have I heard about Fordham? Then, no.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Wherever he has gone, he does not want to be found.”

“So, I should abandon him to his fate?”

“I did not say that,” she said gently. “But you have bigger things to worry about right now.”

“The election isn’t for months.”

“I meant … your impending nuptials.”

Kerrigan groaned. “Right. Any luck in finding a way out of that?”

Helly shook her head. “I did what you’d requested and sent feelers out about the House of Medallion’s presence on your lands, and it is as dire as Lord March made it seem. I do believe he could follow through on a house takeover if he so wanted.”

She grimaced. “So, I have to marry him?”

“There’s still time. Play along, and we’ll figure it out.”

That was what her father had said. They’d offered her dowry to be rid of the betrothal, and March had been insulted. She couldn’t afford to insult him. She had to play faerie bride for a little longer. Because if there was a way to break this engagement … a way to get back to Fordham, she would damn well find it.