Chapter 1

Nine years later.

King Lyle sat on a throne on the upper level of the great hall, observing the Lords and Ladies of the kingdom that was now his. Very few Sorcerers and Sorceresses dared break the subtle glass of silence as they waited at the tables below.

The previous king’s descendants sat at his left hand, as they would serve the purpose of advisors and confidentials. Leland was the eldest, as King Dascum’s son, and he was thrice Lyle’s age. His grey hair was receding quickly, and his jaw protruded obstinately as he stared across the room. No sign of mourning showed on his face, but his expression was forlorn, nonetheless.

It hadn’t been much of a shock for anyone when his father died. The Sorcerer had been ancient, at eighty-seven years old.

Papridia’s kings had always first become susceptible to death, or any pain or suffering at all, when they were near the age Dascum died at. Magic preserved them in good health until then. Still, when Queen Patti had found him stone cold in bed only two days after his birthday, her family had been surprised.

She sat at King Lyle’s right hand now. Her chest rose and fell in slow motion as her eyes remained locked on the edge of the table in front of her. The workers in the castle meant no disrespect when they said they expected her to go soon, too. It was reasonable that she would lose what Will was keeping her alive. The magic giving her a long life and good health had dissipated as soon as her husband died.

A servant came to the king’s side shortly after the doors to the hall were closed. He whispered something in his ear before leaving the upper floor.

Lyle looked to his left, past the first prince. Leland’s own son, Prince Kelvin, sat beside him. Kelvin was nearly old enough to be Lyle’s father, and his face was much narrower than the princes before him. He was the first in two generations to start taking after his mother’s side, in some manners.

Neither he nor Leland were Sorcerers, unfortunately, and that meant that neither could have taken the throne in Dascum’s place.

“Lords and Ladies,” Kelvin started as he noticed the king’s gaze. His voice echoed throughout the hall, magnified at the king’s Will. “We welcome you to the castle, and thank you for joining us in mourning King Dascum. His accomplishments were many, and he will forever rest in peace. Yesterday King Lyle was coronated, and many of you attended. Today we ask you to swear fealty to him, in support of he who isn’t of our royal bloodline.” He glanced at Lyle. “Would all who support King Lyle please rise.”

The youngest prince, Kelvin’s son Tristum, was the first to rise. Although he was a Sorcerer, it hadn’t been known until over a year ago. Lyle had already been in his apprenticeship to the king for four years by then, and Dascum did not change his will for fear that Tristum would not be a powerful enough Sorcerer. As it turned out, the prince didn’t often deal with magic, and he was a lazy young man. He hadn’t objected to Lyle becoming king.

If any of the eight hundred Sorcerers below them did not stand, they weren’t visible from where Lyle sat. A few servants quickly strolled through the rows, however, taking note of those who remained seated.

“Now, state the oath,” Prince Kelvin directed.

Their voices resonated in the stone room, causing the king’s table to vibrate. “I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to the king, never cause him harm, and will observe my homage to him completely, against all persons in good faith and without deceit,” the Sorcerers chanted.

Kelvin nodded. “You may be seated.” He waited for a moment. “The banquet will now be held in King Lyle’s honor.”

The doors were opened once more as the prince sat back down. Soon a long line of servants came filing in, carrying trays and platters of food.

King Lyle’s plate was set in front of him before one of the servants from below approached. “Your Majesty, only five didn’t swear fealty.”

“Only five? Make sure you have their names recorded, then.”

Prince Alton, Tristum’s older brother, peered past his father and grandfather to the king. “Did you say only five?”

Lyle nodded with relief. He had been worried that the number would be much larger. “That’s it.”

“But the last time somebody else was coronated,” he said, meaning a Sorcerer who wasn’t born into the bloodline, “over a third of the Sorcerers didn’t support him.”

The king frowned. “Was there any reason why?”

“I think the books say jealousy. I don’t know! But if there are only five who didn’t openly ‘support’ you, I’d be worried.”

Lyle glanced down at his food, worry lining his face.

“That might be something to look into,” Leland said. “At least ask around, look for any reason why there were so few. Not to sound crude, but you haven’t even had the opportunity to do anything to get their approval yet. They could be bitter that they weren’t chosen as Dascum’s apprentice, especially since most of these Sorcerers were fighting in the war with you at the time.”

“But I. . . Well, I guess I wasn’t the only Sorcerer who did any good there.” His eyebrows knit together.

Leland sighed.

“So what should I do, exactly?”

“You should probably start with having the servants listen to what they’re talking about, if they say anything as to why.”

“Yes, but how? They’re all out there working right now...”

“Instruct some of them, and have them pass the message on to the kitchen hands, and they can tell everyone. Most of them will probably be listening to them talking, anyways.”

“...Alright...”

Lyle twisted around in his seat, beckoning a servant to him. “Go tell the kitchen hands, and any of the servants you pass in the halls, to pay attention to what the Sorcerers are talking about.”

The young man nodded and set off to the hallway.

“What. . . harm could they do even if they didn’t support me?”

“They might not pay their taxes, or. . . and they might cause just general problems. Things like that.”

King Lyle sighed.

“There could be a whole army of Sorcerers down there who don’t actually want you to be king...” Alton murmured.

“‘Cause, you know, if they didn’t want him to be king, they wouldn’t say anything,” Tristum said sarcastically.

His brother pulled at his mustache as he glared in his direction. “They wouldn’t necessarily come out about it, if it’s some kind of conspiracy.”

“So they’d all just secretly find out who else doesn’t want Lyle to be king, get together in a big group, and make sure that none of them swore fealty to him?”

“Anything’s possible.”

“Except that,” Tristum scoffed. “Maybe a few people don’t like him, but it’s not like there are two hundred of them out there.”

“If we do find out there are any rebellious Sorcerers, or find reasons to think they’re there,” Leland cut in, “then we can have another banquet in a few days and see to them there. That would have to be sooner, though, so everyone didn’t have to go back to wherever they live and then come here again.”

The king nodded thoughtfully. “If it turns out there’s nothing to worry about, though, then we’d be holding another banquet for no reason at all.”

“Well, I like food,” Tristum said, out of Lyle’s sight.

“And most of them do, I’m sure,” Leland sighed. “If there is nothing to worry about, holding a banquet still never hurt anybody. Maybe it’d be some reason for them to trust you more, since you haven’t exactly earned that yet, from the castle.”

“I’m almost wondering what the point of me being king is,” Lyle said. “Do I even ever do anything? You’re the ones who know what to do, since you’re advisors. You have more experience working with the throne than I ever will.”

Leland pressed his lips together. Magic was what kept the royal bloodline tied to the throne--what made them immortal for the first ninety or so years of their life. Lyle had no chance of disproving his statement by outliving the princes; at least, not a very good chance. The princes had worked with kings for their entire lives. “We may have more experience with politics, but you’re probably the most powerful Sorcerer in the country, and a war hero at that.”

The king sighed. “And either one of those can be challenged.”

“Nothing can change that you’re king, though.”

“Maybe...”

Kelvin set his fork down, bending over the table. “The banquet, then?”

“Right,” his father replied. “I think it usually takes three to four days for all the food to get to the castle. So, five days and we’ll have another banquet?”

“Oh. Right. Should we just announce it, then?” Lyle glanced at the seated Sorcerers below, who were now the source of constant chattering.

“Sure. Should I do it?”

“Go ahead,” Kelvin said.

Lyle pressed his lips together. He had never been considered the rank of the princes in the three years he had been in the castle thus far, and even now they treated him differently.

“Could you make me louder?” Leland asked the king.

“Oh. Certainly.”

The eldest prince nodded in thanks and stood up. “Lords and Ladies!” He waited for them to quiet down. “His Majesty King Lyle requests that you all attend another banquet, five days from now.”

“Make it a ball, as well,” Kelvin hissed.

“What?” Though Leland whispered, the entire room could hear him. His son’s eyes darted to the king and back. “Oh. Afterwards we will have a ball.”

“What?” Lyle muttered in concern.

Leland sat back down, looking to the king to make sure his voice would no longer be magnified.

“Why are we having a ball?”

“Because you need to get married,” Kelvin said with a quiet chuckle. “You need a queen.”

Lyle huffed. “As if a ball would help with that.”

“Well, we’re holding the banquet anyways. We might as well. Besides, Tristum’s getting to that age, too.” If there had been any single women of the royal bloodline, Lyle would have been betrothed and married into the throne. Leland only had one daughter, however, and she was seated further down the table with her husband and children, most of whom also had spouses.

“I’d vouch for Lyle and say cancel the ball,” the young prince remarked snidely. He was still a good eight years younger than the king. If he didn’t have a bride forced upon him by the time he was Lyle’s age, he would be happy to count that as success.

“But Lyle, before they’re ready to leave--” Leland sat up with a straight face. “Most of these Sorcerers are either going to stay here in the city, or go to a home just outside of it. There might be a lot of rebels, and there might not, but if it is a group, and they travel somewhere together when we’re all done here, we could send out lookouts, and be able to have a good idea of who they are and maybe even what they’re doing.”

Lyle nodded, wondering why they even bothered to talk to him like an authority figure. “So...”

“So we’ll send out spies. They can hide in the commoners’ houses, or something, and watch out the window for any large groups that go by.”

“So we’ll send them...”

“We can send them right now.” He glanced at his grandsons. “Why don’t you two go? You didn’t want to be here anyways.”

“What?” Tristum asked, looking up from his food.

“We’d just sit there and watch them  pass by?” Alton questioned.

Kelvin glanced at his father, who nodded. “Do you want to?”

“Not really. Victoria’s probably going to be waiting for me after supper.”

“I might as well go,” the younger prince said with disgust.

Leland nodded. “I thought so. Hurry and finish your food, then.”