Jaredeth had sat in hundreds of Council meetings, sometimes on his father's left, or up in the gallery. Never at the head. The view was very different from this side. His seat held him a little higher than everyone else, literally and figuratively. His words were no longer the bemused ramblings of a bored prince. They held weight; the had purpose.

He hated this. On one hand, he'd love nothing more than to shirk all the tough decisions on his Coucilors. On the other, his father had warned him multiple time not to let the Coucil run amuck. Avaly would go broke. But these meetings were akin to ading through a tar pit.

As soon as he'd walked into the chamber, Havers had shoved an agenda into his face along with a heavy stack of documents sorted in order of importance. And for the past two hours he’d sat in perpetual agony as they went through each one in far more detail than necessary, as they argued minute points and clauses and loopholes and looked to him for guidance.

Down the length of the square table sat the Councillors, who represented the capital’s three districts and the two outer towns. On one side of the upper circle sat the media, along with citizens welcomed to observe the proceedings—though Jaredeth couldn’t understand how anyone would voluntarily subject themselves to this. On the other side sat the stenographers, who kept record of the discussions. And finally spersed around the room were the castle guards. Torrian stood to Jaredeth’s right, five paces back, as was customary.

His mother had come in at the beginning since she couldn’t miss his first Council meeting as King, but didn’t last an hour before excusing herself. If only he had such the luxury. In the moments when the councillors bickered, he found amusement in studying the paintings on the walls and the suits of armour standing at attention with swords held aloft. Or he’d look to the gallery where his wife sat and she’d give him a reassuring smile and nod.

“Your majesty?”

Jaredeth looked up at councilwoman Dalaris. As the de facto head of the Council, she spoke to Jaredeth directly more often than the others. She looked at him expectedly with her brown eyes and he realised she must have asked him something. “Can you repeat the question, please?”

She plastered on a smile. “When do you leave for Tandridge?”

“A week’s time, and I hope you all don’t burn my kingdom to the ground in my absence.” The Council didn’t seem amused by his joke, but he carried on anyway. “Since it seems you all can’t go more than three minutes without squabbling.” Muted laughter came from the gallery, the only pleasing sounds Jaredeth had heard all day.

A ruckus from outside the Council chamber’s doors caught their attention, and Jaredeth nodded for Torrian to investigate. Probably some civilian who wasn’t invited trying to get inside.

“So next on the agenda.” Jaredeth shuffled through the documents in front of him. “The water crisis in Hutton.” He arched his brow. Calling it a crisis was a bit of stretch, but the Council members were known for using hyperbole in an effort to push their proposals through faster.

Torrian returned to the chamber, and to Jaredeth’s side, a scowl twisting his lips. Gods, what now? “Your majesty, High Priest Lazarus says he needs to speak with you and the Council right away.”

Jaredeth arched a brow. ”Now? Whatever for?”

“Something about a necromancer.” Torrian said the word low enough for only him and the Council to hear.

“Your majesty,” Councilwoman Dalaris cut in. “While we have much to get through today, this seems like an urgent issue. You know how dangerous necromancers are.”

Jaredeth acquiesced with a nod. Necromancy had been outlawed in Avaly for centuries, carrying a penalty of death by discretion of the Council. Though there hadn’t been an execution since his father was a boy, and Jaredeth couldn’t stomach the idea of putting anyone to death. Necromancer or not.

The double doors to the council chamber parted and in walked Lazarus with two of his priests flanking him and two city guards behind them. In their midst walked three others—a young girl with matted black hair and eyes red and puffy who couldn’t be a day over fourteen, and a man and woman Jaredeth assumed to be the girl’s parents.

Jaredeth kept his face even as he sorted through the emotions passing over him. He juggled his confusion, anger and disgust, and latched onto the one that would get him in the least trouble. “Lazarus.” His voice was a touch to calm for his liking. “I was told you needed to see us about a necromancer, yet you bring me three people.”

The High Priest smiled and clasped his hands in front of him. His crow-like features and hunched posture him look like an alley beggar. If not for his immaculate white and gold coat he'd easily be mistaken for one. “Your Majesty, the city guard caught this necromancer.” He sneered at the child who flinched away from him. “Trying to flee Avaly with her parents.”

“Lazarus, that is a child,” Jaredeth said, gesturing towards the girl. The calm, even voice that escaped his lips surprised even him, given the way his blood was rushing in his ears. Perhaps he had inherited more than his mother's pretty face.

Lazarus sniffed. “Who’s to say her parents aren’t necromancers as well.” And he looked at the parents in turn.

“Aside from the fact that necromancy isn’t hereditary?” Jaredeth himself didn’t know that much on the subject, save for what he’d learned in the few books they had in the archives and what he learned for Edgar—who seemed quite knowledgeable on the subject. He’d been told many times over how dangerous necromancers are, yet hadn’t seen why yet.

“Your majesty,” Lazarus began, but Jaredeth raised a hand to silence him.

“I’ve heard enough.” He rose from his seat and winced at the soreness in his arse. As King, he’d have to make a lot of tough choices, a lot of unpopular choices, but, thank the gods, this one was easy.

Councilwoman Dalaris cleared her throat. “Your majesty. It’s proper protocol for the council to deliberate on such matters.”

“There’s nothing to deliberate here.” Jaredeth extended a hand. “Torrian, may I borrow your sword?”

His friend looked at him as though he’d grown a second head, but gave him the sword, anyway. “Jaredeth.” He coughed. “I mean, your Majesty. Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure.” He held the weapon underhanded as he strode to where the girl stood. Lazarus and his priests, wisely, stepped out of his way.

“Your majesty, wait please!” the girl’s mother lunged forward, but the guard held her firmly in place. “Please, she’s just a child. Please!”

Jaredeth knelt, so he was eye level with the child, and she flinched away, squeezing her eyes shut. “May I have your name, please?”

The girl opened one eye. “Melody,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“That’s a pretty name,” Jaredeth said with a smile. “You know, I have a daughter too. Her name’s Jaliah.”

Melody’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “That’s a pretty name too.”

“I’m glad you think so. ”Jaredeth extended a hand. “Can I see those ropes, please?” When the girl extended her hands, he turned them over and frowned at the rope burn on her wrists. “Hold still for me.” He tucked the sword behind the ropes and cut them free. “There.”

Melody rubbed her wrists. “Thank you.”

“No need. Allow me to apologise on behalf of those mean men who tied you up.” He pat her shoulder and stood to his full height. The shock of the onlookers wasn’t lost on him. Especially from the High Priest, whose scowl burned a hole in the back of Jaredeth’s head.

He led Melody to her parents and cut their ropes as well. Her father in particular looked as though he had a rough go. Several tears marred his shirt, and he had a bruise on his left eye. Once again, Jaredeth had to rein in his anger.

“You two.” He pointed to the city guards. “Back to your posts.” They saluted smartly and strode out with chamber without a word.

Jaredeth turned his back on the family and strode towards his seat. “Torrian, can you make sure these people get where they were going. And have a doctor check them please.”

“Right away.” Torrian took his sword and ushered the family out of the chamber.

Dalaris regarded him with a subdued visage, her lips pressed so thin they nigh disappeared. “Your majesty, with all due respect, we cannot allow necromancers to walk freely among us. The law states—”

“Necromancy is against the law, not necromancers. Necromancy is an act, not a person,” Jaredeth said simply. “Do you disagree?”

The Councilwoman looked away. “I do not. But there’s no proof she wasn't practicing Necromancy.”

“And there’s no proof she was. So where does that leave us?” He held his hands out, palms up. “What would you all have me do? Lop the child’s head off? Throw her in prison?”

“Perhaps have the council do what they were appointed to do?” Dalaris asked dryly.

Jaredeth’s eyebrows shot up. “Need I remind you that the King has the authority to overrule any decision the Council makes if he doesn’t find it in the best interest of the crown or country? I saved us quite a bit of time. Now we can get back to our agenda. Unless, of course, the High Priest has something else he wishes to bring to our attention.” He looked at the person in question.

Lazarus’ adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “No, your majesty.”

“Then enjoy the rest of your day.” Jaredeth flicked his hands towards the exit. “Now, as I was saying. The water crisis in Hutton.”