44. Jess

Chapter 44

Jess

“ M ajesty, we are now investigating nine mysterious deaths. Each appears to have been a vicious attack by a wild beast that occurred in a different location and against a random member of their community.”

“Have you discovered any pattern to the deaths?” I asked.

The High Sheriff shook his head. “We have looked at this from every conceivable angle and found no commonality regarding sex of the victim, station, occupation, or any other measure we use. In some cases, the victims were torn apart by massive claws, like those of an enormous bear. In others, the attacker was a raptor or other bird of prey.”

Sheriff Cribbs folded his hands and stared across the table. His eyes were lined with dark circles, and his normally well-kept uniform was as disheveled as his ragamuffin hair.

I strummed my fingers against the wood of the Council table as I mulled over his report. “Chancellor Marks, any word from your ravens? Or our network of ears?”

“Actually, Majesty, something interesting arrived by raven just before the Council assembled. I have not had time to route it to my people for further review, but it may provide us another avenue of inquiry.” He reached into the leather folio containing sheaves of parchment, removed a tiny scroll, and read,

“The dead innkeeper in Oliver was angry at the Order’s local Priest and his speeches about the Crown. Rumor has it, he was stirring up a small group to chase the Priest out of town before he was killed, though none of that group will speak of him or their plans. This was overheard in the dockside tavern by a barman.” - V

Treasurer Dask scoffed. “Are you suggesting a wild bear was angered by the man’s hatred for a Priest? That may be the most ridiculous thing ever spoken at this table.”

Cribbs chuckled, but his smile didn’t reach his weary eyes. “It does sound far-fetched. Is that all we have?”

Ethan held my gaze, despite the others’ reactions. “On the surface, Treasurer Dask is right. This sounds ridiculous, but we have little else to go on. I suggest the High Sheriff have his men in each town revisit their interviews and ask about the Priests and their speeches. Local Constables may already know of royalist passions but failed to link them to the killings.”

Cribbs leaned forward. “Majesty, I can have my men ask quietly in their respective towns, but this whole thing sounds like a child’s fever dream.”

“It sounds like dreams I had as a child, thanks to stories our dear High Chancellor told me before I was sent to bed.” I looked from Cribbs to Ethan. “But the Chancellor is right—we have little else to go on, and asking a few questions seems simple enough.”

Cribbs nodded once. “Yes, Majesty. I’ll send birds when we finish here.”

“Good,” I said, squinting at the upside-down writing on the parchment stretched before Ethan that detailed our lengthy agenda. “What is next, Chancellor?”

“Trade with Melucia and Vint. Our representatives—”

The audience chamber doors flew open and banged against the stone of the walls as Mage Ernest raced into the hall with a royal page a step behind.

“Majesty! Mage Dane Ernest,” the flustered page called belatedly.

Everyone at the Council table startled at the sudden interruption.

“Majesty! They’re gone! They’re just gone !” Ernest cried out, a strange mix of terror, anguish, and helplessness suffusing itself into his words.

His expression was even sadder than his voice. His eyes were wild, and his arms flailed as he ran. Halfway down the aisle, he seemed to remember where he was and slowed to a not-so-stately trot until he stood, huffing, before his Queen.

“Mage Ernest? Are you all right?” I stood, my own eyes rising at the man’s unusual agitation.

“No, Majesty. None of us are.” The Mage remembered to bow, then rose and met my eyes. “Gifts are gone.”

“What are you babbling about? Whose Gifts?” Ethan asked in annoyance.

“Majesty.” Ernest sucked in a few breaths. “ All of our Gifts have vanished. I can no longer sense the flow of magic. None of our Mages can cast even the simplest spell.”

I shot a glance at Ethan, then turned to Dask. “I cannot tell if my Gift works without an animal nearby. Treasurer Dask, please try yours?”

Dask shot me a glare.

“Barnabus, do it. You are the only one present who still believes your Gift is a secret.”

Amused eyes turned to Dask as he looked from Ethan to Cribbs.

A heartbeat later, panic flooded his eyes.

“Majesty, I cannot—”

“Dear Spirits,” I muttered.

“Majesty, people all over the city are pouring into the Guild Hall, seeking a remedy for what they believe to be an ailment. This is not limited to Mages. Our Gifts, all of them , are gone.”

Chaos erupted as every Councilor stood and began talking at once. It was impossible to hear what any one person was saying as they shouted over each other.

Mage Ernest sank to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest, like some child whose parents had just taken away his favorite toy.

I drew a deep, calming breath, then another, as my father taught me. He’d warned of many things, but his lessons on crises were his most frequent—and most forceful.

“Jess.” He’d stabbed his forefinger for emphasis. “Every crisis will be different, but two things will always remain beneath the noise. First, everyone will look to you for leadership, even if you have no knowledge, background, or training on the matter at hand. You will be Queen, the one wearing the crown. As such, people will expect—no, they will demand—you to make the impossible decisions.

“Second, you will want to run out of the room. Your heart will race, and sweat will pour from places you never knew could sweat. Those same people demanding leadership will see it all. They will watch your every movement, hang on every word. They will seek meaning where none was offered, all in some desperate attempt to feel secure in a time of uncertainty. You must gird yourself, especially in those times. Find strength within yourself. Widen your stance, breathe slowly and deeply. Speak deliberately and with purpose, if for no other reason than to buy yourself time to think.”

In that moment, with Mage Ernest in a near meltdown, my Councilors chattering like temple gossips, and word beginning to spread through the city like summer flames, I knew the wisdom of his words.

And I breathed again.

“Everyone, sit.” My voice pierced through the cacophony, and every head turned. “Do not stand there staring at me. I said sit!”

Slowly, the leaders of the Kingdom gathered themselves and took their seats. Ethan helped Mage Ernest to his feet and ushered him to his chair at the foot of the table. All eyes turned toward me as I stood before my own chair.

“I want each of you to listen to me right now. I need you. The people need you. This Kingdom needs each of you.” I looked around the table with a stern gaze. “The people look to us for strength, and they will see strength when they look at each of you. Do you hear me?”

Mutters of “Yes, Majesty” scattered around the table.

“Good.” I took my seat, back straight, head high. “Sheriff, send your birds. Find me answers regarding the killings. Chancellor Marks, I want other birds sent to every guild in every nation, starting with Melucia. Find out if their Gifts are also affected.”

General Sento, my new Minister of War, began to protest.

I silenced her with a raised palm and a withering glare.

“I understand we are tipping our hand by asking the question. They will know we are wounded without our Gifts. Your objection is noted. Chancellor, send the birds. Everyone else, assess how to move forward with your respective areas assuming there are no Gifts to assist with your work. I want outlines of your worst-case scenarios by tomorrow. Mage Ernest, stay with me a moment. Everyone else, get to work. This session is adjourned.”

The Councilors rose and scurried out of the chamber.

While some of the men had witnessed my youthful tantrums, none had ever seen me command a room as I just had. I was sure a few left the chamber with memories of my mother’s famous wrath.

When the last advisor vanished and the doors slammed shut, I walked the length of the table and sat in the chair closest to my Mage. His head was bowed, and he didn’t look up.

“Mage, look at me,” I ordered.

His eyes rose to meet mine.

“Do you know of any time in our history when the Gifts failed?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, Majesty. I have had our historians scouring the Royal Library since the first report. Since the time of Irina, the Gifts have flowed through the bloodlines without interruption.”

I thought a moment. “Is there a spell . . . or some artifact . . . that could block someone’s Gift? Mute it?”

“I know of one man who could Silence those within a certain radius, but he died many years ago. If such existed, even in the other nations, the Mages would have shared that information. It would have frightened every serious magician to their core. To have someone able to steal—”

“Stay with me. Focus.” I rested a hand on his arm to try to calm him, but the Queen’s touch nearly made him jump out of his robe.

“Majesty, forgive me. I was startled. You touched me.”

I let out a sigh. “My skin isn’t poisoned.”

“No, but you are Queen .”

“Fine.” I sat back, lifting my hand a tad too dramatically from his arm. “Just focus. I know your people are working on this already, but the Mages are our best hope of finding a solution. Do whatever you must. Ask for whatever you need. There is no price too high for the return of our magic. Understand?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“And, Mage, please try to remain calm .”

He nodded frantically. “Yes, ma’am—I mean, Majesty.”