Chapter 26

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The atmosphere in the room had changed now.

The air crackled with hostility. Otto stared down at the table in front of him, brows furrowed, shoulders tensed. His men shot wary glances around the room as if they expected to be attacked at any moment. The Stormont courtiers viewed their guests through narrowed eyes, lips curled, contempt written all over their faces. At the Royal Table, the ladies-in-waiting shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Soup remained untouched, napkins twisted between fingers. They brooded silently with dark expressions.

''Your Majesty, are you well?' the nameless lady-in-waiting repeated, holding a green soup-stained napkin out to a servant behind her.

Nesta straightened up in her seat. Her heart was beating ten to the dozen. She took a long slow inhale to decelerate her breathing and curled her trembling hands into fists in her lap.

'Yes, I am well,' she replied to the lady in suitably imperious tones without looking at her.

'Let them bring in the main course,' she unclenched her right hand and raised it above her head in signal.

Lines of servants filed in carrying heavy platters of roasted bird and suckling pig, silver tureens of rosemary roasted potatoes, spiced parsnips, glazed carrots with caraway, red cabbage with apple, steamed chard with raisins and great porcelain jugs of gravy.

Around the table conversation resumed at a low mutter. The discussions were casual at first but rapidly became fraught. Disagreements escalated, voices rose and became sharp, before they were silenced with shooshes from their neighbours and continued in spiked whispers. To Nesta's left, a chair scraped backwards and she turned to see the ginger-haired lady-in-waiting, Katharine Meadows, throwing down her napkin, shooting a furious glance at her husband, the bald, chestnut-bearded Sir Hugh Meadows seated next to Lord Alaric on the men's table, and storming out of the Banqueting Hall.

Nesta felt the tension like needles pricking her skin. Her solar plexus bunched into a tight knot. In the midst of all this turmoil her thoughts turned to the most peaceful place she knew: the Temple in the Wise Women's Village. The Burned One, Leonia and Ada would still be on their way back through the forest with the real Empress tied up in the back of the cart, but the rest of the Wise Women would be seated in the Temple. Mildred would have conjured Nesta's image in the crystal. All of them would be concentrating on her, sending her their heart-energy. She wondered briefly if they would be seeing her true form in the crystal or the form of the Empress which she now occupied.

If they're sending energy to me, surely I can transmit it to the occupants of this room. I have to do something to quell this rising antagonism.

While her taster cut herself a forkful of meat, Nesta closed her eyes and dived deep within. She took as deep a breath as her bodice would allow and focused all her attention on the heart-fire in her chest. It burned more fiercely than ever before. She knew the collective concentration of her sisters in the Temple fuelled it. She half closed her eyes and, with an effort of willpower, she sent it out.

She visualised herself as a conduit, receiving heart-energy from the Wise Women and beaming it out to the diners in the Banqueting Hall. With each heartbeat, she imagined bright energy pulsing out from her in waves, filling the hall, touching everyone inside with its light.

Slowly the flow of light grew stronger and stronger until a torrent of fire streamed out from the centre of her chest, like a river that had burst its banks, engulfing everything in its path. It washed away the hatred, fear and anger disseminated by the Shade. As the Wise Women's searing healing-light flooded through her she began to lose her sense of self. Her body had no boundaries. She dissolved in the flow of light.

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