The next day, the cabin was peaceful without the hoard of people crashing there.

Aderes was in the kitchen, as she had volunteered to make dinner for once. She had refused any help, and planned on making some sort of special Lembroke dish. Apparently she made it for Chester and he liked it. Her endeavor was going quite well aside from occasional confusion over where certain spices were located.

Jonathan was whittling at the table. It was better to do it on the table than on the floor as cleaning up was much easier. He was working on a set of miniature farming tools. These days he sometimes employed a little bit of paint or metal with his carvings to help the details stand out more. His calm was broken by the sound of a knock at the door.

The young man put the small wooden shovel down, wiped his hand free of paint, and went to answer the door.

Outside on the porch—looking entirely out of place among the dense forest backdrop in her fine dress—was Queen Deimena.

Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

Jonathan looked over how solemn her expression was, and stepped aside. “Do you want tea?” Tea was a courtesy in these parts. Whether it was brewed with the finest leaves or homemade, it was required to offer guests some kind of tea.

“No, thank you.” Deimena, after a look at the cluttered table, took a seat in one of the armchairs. She was grimacing, despite her best attempts to smile as she announced, “Jaeger died. Are you planning on fighting for the throne?”

“I’m not planning on being involved, but Emlyn is who I would . . . prefer.” The young man paused. “I have a terrible, terrible idea forming.” Jonathan had never met Crown Prince Jaeger, but he seemed like a stereotypical, good prince. And, unlike Jaeger, he knew the others. If Emlyn and Millan fought Oliver and Liam for the throne, he would have to go back for their funerals. He did not wish to see anyone else dead if he could propose something to prevent it. If he did it right, if they did it right, then none of them would have to worry about the succession crisis again.

“And?” Deimena prompted, not unkindly. She put her elbows on the armchair, and folded her hands together.

“And it just might work, if it’s all of us.”

Deimena was still just as confused. “How so?”

Jonathan sat down in the other armchair, across from her. “What happens when there is only one person eligible for the throne? That person automatically gets it unless someone who isn’t royalty holds a coup.”

“The method for that is usually to kill off everyone else,” Deimena pointed out, a bit impatient.

“Yes, but, people can willingly renounce their claim to the throne. They can take themselves out of the line of succession.”

“You think that would work?” Deimena asked, incredulous.

Jonathan abruptly seemed to change the subject. “Does your sister want the throne?”

“No.” Deimena shook her head. She felt a wry, almost fond smile forming on her face. An inkling of Jonathan’s plan was forming in her head. “She loves being in charge of diplomatic relations, but anything involving the councils gives her a headache.”

Jonathan spread his hands out as he shrugged. “Aside from Emlyn, none of our brothers and sisters want the throne. It is Emlyn and Lorelai who care. That is why this would work.”

“If we can have everyone agree not to go for the throne, we can appoint the crown prince ourselves and avoid turning Pinscher into a bloodbath.” Deimena wasn’t sure whether everyone would follow through, but even if only Oliver and Liam agreed to renounce their rights to the throne it would simplify the proceedings for a new heir. Additionally, if Oliver and Liam publicly gave up being in line, Celtie would be enough to support them and Consort Lorelei would never fulfill her dream to be the mother of an emperor. Her lips twisted upwards at the thought of how the witch who had driven her mother out of the capital would react.

“Are you on board?”

“Oh, yes.” Deimena’s usual smile had returned in full force, albeit softened by the presence of her favorite brother.

The kitchen door opened and Aderes walked out. She made a small, polite gesture from the Empire and introduced herself. “I would like to suggest that you also present letters of support from the countries that are part of the Hrea Empire.” She had obviously overheard things while cooking.

Jonathan grimaced. The euphoria of the plan was already fading. “Me?”

Aderes knew how her friend avoided the spotlight when possible, trying to live as close to normal as one could with a pet phoenix. “It’s your idea, and you’re the only one who would be able to talk to everyone. You need to go, and be involved.”

Jonathan grumbled, but pulled out several sheets of paper and three pens.

Oceton was sent off with letters to Oliver in Celtie, Emlyn in Maskiff, and Consort Cressida in Reagle.

Once the letters were sent off, Jonathan rode to Malamut. He was carrying two letters of importance, and he was at a disadvantage for transportation against everyone else in the empire due to the trains. Once he met with Bas, it was a fortunately simple matter to get L’ua into accompanying.

Jonathan walked into the capital city of Pinscher. He had left the life of Prince Roscoe three years ago, but he was back for a brief sojourn. There was still unfinished business he had.

His train pass got him into the main palace, but then it was up to him to track down where he was supposed to go. There were several wings to the main palace, and separate palaces dotted around the area. From what he had been told by a servant he stopped, Adoncia had her own palace near the North-West side.

Jonathan was walking through the halls of the gardens when he crossed paths with a woman in a green dress, flanked by two ladies-in-waiting.

Consort Lorelei was fanning herself, despite standing in the shade of the umbrella held by one of her ladies. It was still summer and the day was hot. She was feeling a bit faint yet persevered to plaster a smile on her face. “Where are you headed, Sir?” She faintly remembered the scar on his neck.

“To Princess Adoncia’s.”

Lorelei made a noise of surprise. “My apologies for not immediately remembering you. You were the man speaking with my son in Malamut.” She was now actually interested in why he was here in the empire, considering his loyalties.

Jonathan wondered if she suspected something, but unless her sons had told her then Lorelei would have no idea of the gravity of the meeting that was about to occur only a short walk away. “I was. I am on a short schedule to deliver a letter. Excuse me, Consort.”

“Of course . . . “ Lorelei signaled to her ladies-in-waiting to follow her, and continued to walk.

Both of their faked smiles and pleasantries dropped quickly once they turned their backs, headed in opposite directions.

A/N

We’re real close to the end here. Thank you to everyone reading!

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