Page 5 of City of Snakes
“The law requires no heirs of me.”
Haward carried on, “It states that by age thirty, you need—”
“She’s right,” Barden cut in. “The law only requires her to marry.”
I shot a look at my younger cousin, my shoulders deflating at the slightest notion of camaraderie.
“We’ll see what the Central lords think five years from now when there’s still no heir to your line. That assumes any poor sap will even want a ruined woman,” Haward said as he pointed a finger at me.
I wanted to cut it off and feed it to him.
“Maybe you should have tried harder to make one of those failed betrothals stick. What was it, two?”
I glared at him. “Three, actually. And I’ll have a husband and a dozen tiny Sybillas running around before you know it if only to keep you off my throne. Mark my words.”
I’d just need to find a King consort that wanted little to do with the crown on my head and had little ambition toward ruling my Corridor. That shouldn’t be so hard.
Haward leaned in and gruffly whispered, “The lords once voted to take your mother’s head. It’ll be no different when it’s your turn. Come, Barden.” He stormed out of the room.
Barden paused momentarily, looking at his pocket watch again. Before he walked away, he caught my eye and winced, as though maybe some remorse still lived within him.
Standing tall, and fighting the impulse to sigh or slacken in relief, I watched Barden follow after his brother.
“Do you always let that nonentity speak to you that way?” A low grumble from the table reached me.
I jumped, having forgotten that the King of the Sahlms was in the room. Darvanda’s back was to me still, and he sat completely stiff.
“It’s easier to have him believe he’s won. It keeps him out of my hair for a while,” I answered, unable to mask the annoyance in my tone.
I rounded the table and sat across from him, keeping a skeptical eye on his hands as he drummed his fingers against the table. Glancing up, I found him tracking me with those eerie dark-gray irises.
He grumbled, “What laws did he speak of?”
“Nothing that pertains to you,” I snapped. “When do we leave?”
“Soon. And don’t change the subject. I am owed an explanation if my ally is soon to be legally unable to offer any aid. Is your crown secured?”
“Our laws require any female ruler of mortal birth to marry before her thirtieth birthday. I assure you, I have it handled.”
His eyes narrowed, and he said with subtle sarcasm, “Sounds like it.”
“Why are you even here?” I huffed. “What is in this for you?”
He scowled. “It seemed like a good political move to have at least one connection in this realm. The Sahlms have grown crowded, and some wish to return to the lands they once were free to live in.”
I couldn’t tell if that was a dig at my ancestors’ decision to cast out magic but chose not to rise to the bait if so.
With my hands on the armrests of the dining chair, I said, “I will ensure they shall be free to return—that is why I wanted to speak to you before we leave.”
“What is your little plan then?” He sounded as though he doubted me capable of any plan.
I straightened in my seat, fighting the desire to slump against it.
Deep breaths.
“The rulers of Henosis have agreed to hold monthly trials. It would allow Source-wielders reentry to Henosis on a case-by-case basis. Those who wish to return will need to appear before the council with proof of their identity. Mortals and immortals without Source power will follow the same process for record keeping.”
“Allof your rulers agreed to such a plan?” he asked.
