“But it can’t be a coincidence that something strange is happening with the thayar shipments and your father goes off and agrees to pay more for a good the kingdom desperately needs while only securing a grain monopoly and a single emissary in exchange,” Silene finishes for me. “It doesn’t add up. Maybe we can learn more in Thayaria. They may have more knowledge of the uses of thayar and what a large stockpile could do in the wrong hands.”

A plan slowly forms in my mind. For the last two hundred years, since I began to suspect my father intentionally killed my mother in one of his magic experiments, I’ve wondered whether he practiced blood magic. I’ve never been able to do anything about it, nor have I ever come this close to having a real plan to confirm my speculation. Fueled by grief and rage, I’ve been undeterred for centuries, finding small ways to undermine him. But Silene’s right—we’ve barely made a difference with the underground operation we’ve built. This could be a real chance to not only gather information to expose my father but also build a bridge with a powerful ruler.

“We do exactly as my father asks, and we get close to the Witch Queen to observe her magic and her court,” I tell them. “We also keep our ears open for information on the flower. But we do it for our own reasons. If we can make her an ally, that’s an added bonus. But either way, we’re going to find the information we need to take down the Golden King.”

“And how exactly do you plan to get information about blood magic out of the Witch Queen?” Fionn asks skeptically.

I break out in a wide smile. “By doing what I do best. I’ll charm her. Seduce her. She’s been in isolation for three centuries. She won’t see my handsome face coming.”

Mazus

Recent developments are going according to plan . Queen Laurel agreed to my proposal for emissaries, and my worthless son will be in the Witch Queen’s kingdom by tomorrow afternoon. The human armies are also growing their numbers rapidly, thanks to my soldier salary program that promises their families two generations of payments in exchange for their service. And the rapidly growing army did not come up once at the Forum of Royals. Not a single person guessed at my true motivations for sending Hawthorne to Thayaria, not even that obnoxious girl betrothed to him who’s too smart for her own good.

I place a single petal of thayar flower on the sterile workstation, then wrap it in enough swirling wind to keep it hovering in the air. While I observe the effects, my thoughts drift to my son and the potential for him to ruin plans that have been in the works for centuries.