“Excellent, Your Majesty,” Admon remarks, clapping his hands together. “We shall make your intentions realized.” He takes control of the discussion of who will take part in the sub-committee and ideas for how to strike against the rebels. I simply sit and listen, trusting Admon to lead the conversation. After twenty minutes of nominations and voting, the members comprise Admon, Carex, Aria, Margery, and three other advisors, plus the Velmarans. Admon offers to organize the first meeting by the end of the week. Before the Council dismisses, I offer them final words, letting the tiniest thread of aether seep into my voice.

“Nemesia is no longer welcome in this kingdom. If she appears at any port, she is to be arrested and brought to the palace cells immediately. Send the messages out.” They all nod before taking their leave.

Carex hangs back, and I groan internally. I move to a corner of the room, pretending to look out at the city of Arberly from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the Council chamber, hoping Carex won’t follow. But he does, coming up to stand next to me, his arms crossed and shoulders tense.

“Did you want to discuss something further, Carex?” I ask without meeting his gaze, pretending I don’t know exactly what he’s going to say. He doesn’t hesitate at all, his words rushing out as if he can barely contain them.

“Aethers, Laurel, what’s going on with you and the Velmarans? After everything that’s happened, how can you trust them?” His words are harsh, anger written across his features. My own temper rises to meet his.

“Please, do tell me how I should feel after everything that’s happened to me,” I snarl, finally turning to meet his gaze. “Enlighten me on everything that’s happened and how that somehow means my instincts and decisions should be questioned.” I lose a bit of my control, not because of my anger, but because of the hurt I feel that Carex of all people wouldn’t trust me. That he would use my past and history against me like this. With the wound that is still gaping at Nemesia’s betrayal, I’m even more sensitive to Carex’s barbs. The lights in the room flicker slightly at my slip, and I take a deep breath to wrap a fist around my magic. Even through his ire, Carex’s eyes widen in fear, still afraid and unable to meet my challenge, so unlike Thorne.