Lahat ng Kabanata ng Fire's Determination: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

The healer set her shoulders as if steeling herself to say whatever was on her mind, then sighed loudly. "Humans? Princess, they don't care for their people; they own them. They shouldn't be the answer to our plight." She paused to gauge my reaction, and when I merely nodded, allowing her to continue, she pressed on, bolstered by the looks of everyone else around the table—everyone except for Gil, who was still pointedly staring at me. In turn, I continued avoiding his gaze, focusing instead on Amnati. "By doing this, you're not only selling yourself into the ownership of the King; you're selling all of us. We'll lose our way of life, our independence, our beliefs and culture. The humans will drive away everything that makes us who we are and force us to replace it with their own ideals, thoughts and beliefs. And why should we trust these people? They've butchered us, enslaved us and tortured our kind for sheer amusement in the past. They make sports out of grotesque acts. Aeon isn

"Your Majesty—" "And stop calling me that." I waved a hand in his direction. "That's a made-up human title meant to bolster and feed the egos of those who wear your unnecessary crowns. Real leaders don't need inflated egos or fancy accessories to prove their worth to their people. So for me to be called as such is insulting," I finished coolly. Tross just stared at me, wide-eyed for a moment, before shaking himself back to the present and clearing his throat. "Yes, Queen Mage. I apologize for any offense. But if I may, what do you mean you don't want to be ruled by the King?" "I mean just that. We'll ally with him; we'll help when needed, when we can. We'll fulfill our part of the contract. But at the end of it all, mages will still be their own people, their own rulers. This alliance, between," I paused, almost saying "myself and the throne," but corrected it to maintain the ruse, "the Princess and the throne, will, as your King put in his letter, be a symbolic marriage to sho

"Malorie," I called softly once I was outside the Council Chamber doors, knowing the Potioneer had stayed nearby in case she was needed. The other mage rushed out from around the corner and gave me a quick bow. “Princess,” she acknowledged. "Malorie, could you please show the esteemed Captain to the guest chambers where he can stay for the night? And if he would like to get out and stretch his legs at all throughout the day, make sure someone is there to escort him," I said, fully aware that Tross was listening through the open door, though I didn't turn to look at him. "It will be done, Princess," the Potioneer replied with another bow. I sighed and shook my head slightly. "Seriously, stop with the bowing, Mal," I whispered, and she nodded in compliance. I turned to walk away but paused and looked back over my shoulder at her. "If you run into my mother, and she seems in a foul mood, tell her I'll be in the gardens, would you?" With that, I headed out the side door that led

Sylvren's voice cut through the air like ice, her tone sharp as if crackles of electricity surrounded the Queen Mage. I watched Gil very slowly wiping his fingers on his pants, his face as red as my hair, which I was hurriedly trying to fix. As if regaining control of my wind-blown hair could erase what my mother had just witnessed. "A little inappropriate, don't you think, now that you're engaged?" Sylvren's words lingered in the air, tinged with disapproval. "Technically," I breathed out, more of a pant than a response, attempting to mask my embarrassment with false bravado. "I'm not engaged yet." I added, my hand grasping for the contract. When my fingers only felt the hard stone of the bench, I looked over and saw the contract lazily making its way back towards me on a soft breeze—our passion tornado had rehomed it several feet away. Snatching it from the air, I whispered, "Thank you," to Gil under my breath. I extended the paperwork to my mother, who ripped it from my grasp.

“I still think I need to have a little talk with Gil though,” Regnald said, his eyes searching the room as he shovelled a mouthful of stew in his mouth. As if summoned, Gil walked through the dining hall doors, his gaze immediately landing on me. But as soon as he noticed who my companions were, his face drained of color, he spun around and walked right back out the doors. “Speak of the devil…” My father hummed, making my mother’s head shoot up just in time to catch Gil’s quick retreat. I sighed, burying my face in my hands. No matter how badly I wished to postpone our departure, time wasn’t going to allow for that. Suddenly, I felt my mother's delicate touch on my shoulder, “I'm sorry, Lyra. I know in another time—if things were different—Gil could've been your Consort.” My head shot up in mortification, she must have read it as surprise because she continued on as if she needed to explain the dynamics to me. “Once he becomes your official Right Hand, you'll be together all