Chapter 7 The Elder Council
Chapter 7 The Elder Council
The castle felt different in the morning. It was quieter than usual, but not empty. People moved through the corridors, keeping their distance and throwing her quick, cautious glances. Something was stirring.
Azael sat at the head of the breakfast table. His posture was perfect, but his eyes flicked toward her more than usual. She ignored it, focusing on her meal.
Whispers followed her as she walked through the halls. Heads turned, conversations hushed. Even the servants avoided her path. By mid-morning, a messenger arrived.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing, “the Elders request your presence in the council chamber immediately.”
Elara’s brow furrowed. They rarely summoned her unless it was serious. She nodded and made her way there, her steps measured, eyes alert.
The council chamber doors loomed ahead. Inside, the Elders were waiting, seated with grave expressions. Their eyes studied her the moment she entered.
“Elara,” the eldest said without preamble. “We’ve reviewed events from the past cycles. Certain… irregularities demand your attention.”
She frowned. “Irregularities?”
“Actions taken during your absence,” another Elder explained. “Decisions made that could compromise the stability of the court. You must see these for yourself.”
They handed her a series of ledgers, documents, and reports. Elara’s hands were steady as she flipped through them, scanning names, dates, and notes. Patterns emerged quickly. Someone in the court had been manipulating events, hiding things from Azael and from her.
The Elders watched silently as she studied the files. She didn’t speak; she didn’t need to.
Finally, she closed the ledgers and stood. “I understand,” she said simply. “Thank you.”
Leaving the chamber, she moved swiftly back to her room. Evening had fallen, and Emily waited quietly. “Don’t let anyone disturb me tonight,” Elara instructed.
“Yes, my lady,” Emily replied.
Alone, Elara spread the documents across her desk. She traced connections, piecing together the network of intrigue within the court. Someone was waiting for her, someone who had plans that didn’t include her—or Azael.
By the time she leaned back, the outlines of the next steps were clear. Tomorrow, she would act. Tonight, she would plan.
Azael didn’t make it far down the corridor before the guards opened the doors to the council chamber. The elders were already waiting for him—robes gathered, expressions tight, the tension in the air thick enough to slice.
The moment he stepped inside, Elder Beron spoke first, voice sharp with accusation.
“Why her again?” he demanded. “Have you forgotten the last time you chose the cursed girl? Have you forgotten what it cost us?”
Azael kept walking until he reached the head of the long table. He didn’t sit. He just stared at them, jaw set.
“Nothing has slipped my mind,” he answered quietly.
“Then explain yourself.” Elder Mara leaned forward, her thin fingers tapping impatiently. “Why bring her here? Why bind yourself again to something that has already destroyed you?”
He didn’t flinch. “Because this time is different.”
A few elders scoffed under their breath.
Beron’s expression hardened. “You said that before.”
“And I mean it now,” Azael replied. “I feel the change. I know you don’t trust that, but you will.”
Mara stood. “What we feel is danger. You saw her appearance—she is marked, and those marks do not disappear simply because you want them to.”
Azael’s voice dropped. “I didn’t bring you here so you could repeat old warnings.”
“Then hear a new one,” Beron said, rising as well. “We cannot risk another collapse. The safest path is to execute the girl before anything begins.”
Guards shifted at the doors. Azael’s eyes went cold.
“Say that again,” he warned.
Beron didn’t back down. “End the girl. End the cycle. End the threat.”
Azael stepped forward, the temperature in the room dropping with him.
“If she dies,” he said slowly, “I die. All of you know that. And unless you plan to place the High Seat into chaos again… you won’t repeat that suggestion.”
The elders exchanged uneasy looks. No one spoke for a long moment.
Finally, Mara exhaled. “Then watch her closely. Do not make the same mistakes you made before.”
“We will give you time,” Beron muttered, “but if she shows even the smallest sign of repeating the past… we will have to take measures. You know what that means.”
Azael’s jaw tightened. “I know exactly what it means.”
Silence fell again—heavy, uncomfortable, and full of things none of them wanted to say out loud.
He straightened. “This meeting is over.”
The guards stepped forward immediately. Azael lifted a hand toward the doorway.
“Prepare the chariots,” he instructed. “Escort the elders home.”
The elders filed out, still muttering among themselves, still uncertain. Azael didn’t watch them leave. He stayed standing at the head of the table, fingers gripping the wood, the pressure whitening his knuckles because he knew they weren’t wrong to be afraid.
But he also knew they weren’t listening.
This time would be different.
It had to be.