Page 20 of Spar of Hearts

“Let us continue.” Her mother lowered her gaze to another letter. “There is an appeal for mana stone aid from Lord Bryson on behalf of Balcott in the Region of Daric. In short, the children of the orphanage have fallen ill with no apparent cause or cure. There are approximately thirty children living there, and every last one is sick. Symptoms include pale skin, chills, fever, and a gradually worsening cough.” Her mother looked up from the parchment, eyes locking on the human Duke of Daric, Anton Chesterfield. “Duke Chesterfield. Why did we receive this plea directly? Do not tell me you are neglecting the less lucrative towns in your region. Again.”

Duke Chesterfield stood at the address. Even when Anya was a child, she always thought his face resembled a rodent. He acted like a rat too. He tugged the collar of his shirt and cleared his throat to speak. “Of course not, Your Majesty. I received their aid request and replied immediately. Two days later, a very cross gryphon appeared on my doorstep with the same request. I have the beak marks to prove it!”

Her mother steepled her hands. “Did you not fulfill their request?”

The Duke straightened at that. His eyes darted between his fellow delegates and the dais. “I—” His mouth gaped open and shut. “I am ashamed to admit that Daric does not have enough mana stones to fulfill their request. We do not even have enough to maintain the Crown-mandated emergency stores.”

Her father lifted a brow. “Do you lack the funds to trade? Why are we just learning about this now?”

“No!” The Duke flinched at his tone, then straightened his white shirtsleeves, regaining his composure. “Daric is thriving financially. In fact, Balcott is quickly becoming a profitable trading post. I was actually going to pose this question later, but I suppose now is appropriate.” The Duke surveyed the convocation. “Who is stockpiling all the stones? My merchants have been unable to procure any for months.”

Murmurs broke out between the Council members. A few exchanged glares at competing regions’ representatives or confused looks at their allies.

Anya’s father turned to her and nodded, a request for her to intercede. She was chomping at the bit for a chance to prove herself after last night. “Delegates, please bring me your import and export audits immediately.”

Lord Bryson glanced down at the soaked pile of papers in front of him. Anya smirked. The whole Council would see how unprepared he was. Count West sneered at the lord, then pulled a fresh, dry copy from the leather pack next to his chair.

“Your Highness—” Lord Bryson started.

“I did not ask for comment, Lord Bryson.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke. She accepted the reports from the other Council members as they approached, then shuffled the stack once all the papers were in hand.

All except Eldenkeep’s.

She did not glance up from the stack. “Lord Bryson?”

“Just a moment, Your Highness.”

She reviewed Avonford’s import list as footsteps approached. Her heartbeat quickened as the scent of peppermint flooded her senses.

You have a spirit bursting with wanderlust.

She startled as a hand slapped a soggy piece of parchment on top of Avonford’s report. “As you requested. One import-export report,” Lord Bryson huffed, then strode back to his seat. The writing was swirled and diluted by moisture. It was downright illegible and he knew it. But alas, she’d demanded it, and he followed her order in the most malicious manner.

Shoot! She snatched up the damp papers too late. They’d soaked the ink on Avonford’s report, obscuring its numbers. Her eyes darted to Lord Bryson.

The bastard was grinning.

Anya shoved her spectacles up and forced herself to scan the remaining reports. They all had two things in common: extremely low mana stone imports and next to no exports of them either. She already knew there were fewer mana stones in circulation. The numbers had been dropping steadily the past few years, which she now knew had been due to the mines on the Centarian islands drying up. Every region had unknowingly been purchasing stones from the Church, which had disguised itself as a guild based out of the southernmost tip of Avonford’s peninsula. It was no wonder the Church could afford to remodel the capital basilica inside and out twice over.

Anya slid Lord Bryson’s wet report off to the side, then pinched her temples. “It seems everyone else is in a similar position. Only a few have enough to meet the emergency requirements for their region.” She caught Marg shifting in her seat, tapered ears back a little. Why did she look so uncomfortable?

Vince Coulais, the Archduke of Gryphon’s Landing, raised his voice. “And what about Eteross? One of my knights spoke of a fanciful party at Melusine Manor last night—magic galore! Is that the kind of excess that is considered acceptable during this shortage?”

Cyrus joined in, drawing the eye of her parents. “I agree. If the Marchioness has such a surplus, she needs to answer for it. She must have falsified the capital report!”

Marg shrank down in her seat. Anya fought the urge to growl at Cyrus, but such behavior would only bury her parents’ opinion of her beyond recompense. He was just bitter that the finances of Eteross were Marg’s responsibility, not his. He would do anything to get his sticky fingers on the capital coffers.

Though begrudgingly, he had a point. Anya hadn’t considered the sheer amount of mana needed to put on a masquerade like Marg’s. Everything that could be enhanced with magic was, far beyond the ability of the average Elvani.

How did Marg get so many stones?

Anya’s father sighed. “Archduke, we know nothing of this excess you speak of. The capital’s official mana stone supply is closely guarded and inventoried. Although, there admittedly is not much to inventory. We reduced our purchase orders to allow more stones to circulate to the regions. Today is the first we are learning the true extent of the shortage. I am afraid we are not in a position to send any meaningful aid.”

Discord spread among the delegates as the words left her father’s mouth.

“We must prospect for new mines immediately.”

“Perhaps the Centarian islands still hold some value?”