I sigh as I stretch my arms above my head. I want to tell my Council about Nemesia today, and my stomach churns with anticipation. I barely eat my breakfast, instead downing six cups of tea, which only serves to further agitate me with anxious energy. I also want to tell them I’ve been working with the Velmarans to infiltrate the Sons and Daughters and ask them to help me fight them. For too long I’ve stayed my hand, only acting in defense when the rebels made moves against my people. But today we start our offensive campaign. If they have Nemesia working with them, they’re more dangerous than I could have ever imagined.

I’m nervous though, and I don’t want to admit defeat and ask for help. They’re my advisors, but I’ve always kept them at a distance, allowing them to run the day-to-day of the kingdom and offer me their opinions. For three hundred years, I’ve presented myself as a calm and capable leader, who takes advice but never seeks it. The very idea makes me nauseous. I’ve pretended to have all the answers for so long, even when I didn’t have them, that I don’t know the first thing about where to begin. At first it was a necessity, the only way to quiet their fears and take control of the Council when my parents died and a young, inexperienced, female took over. Over time, it became the only acceptable part to play around them. Somehow, I need to not only tell them about Nemesia but explain without revealing too much about why I trust the Velmarans implicitly. Why I trust Velmara’s Crown Prince.

I try to ignore the movement around the source of my magic. It dives in and out, and I have this longing to let it in. Whatever it is. But until I know more, I cannot—will not—act on this strange bond with Thorne. Thayaria hasn’t survived three hundred years under my rule because of my rash or emotional decision making. My duty is to act strategically, carefully considering well-researched information. This will be no different.

Even if a small part of me wants to run down to Thorne right now and ride him until I forget my duty and our connected pasts.