supreme heads of the supernatural world. And we deserve to rule over it.”
I expected shocked gasps to run throughout the Circle, but there were none. There were a few thoughtful hmphs, and saw a couple nods. Horror began slithering over my skin, curling around my guts to squeeze me tight.
The amulet was working. Elijah was telling nothing but the truth. But though his words should’ve shocked the Circle— they weren’t. He was gaining favor.
Lady Magdalina, thank the gods for her, scoffed. “How ridiculous. Are we seriously considering these asinine ideas?”
“Let him speak,” Lord Radcliffe said. Unlike his wife, Lady Iris, he seemed intrigued by the words Elijah spoke.
“Why shouldn’t we be the head supernatural race?” Elijah asked. “We can create whatever we want, with illusions that can become whatever we come up with. If we’ve been given this magic by the gods, this kind of favor, wouldn’t it be a sin not to use it?”
“You can’t use some divine interpretation to spur us onward toward another conflict,” Lady Magdalina said. “Millions of fae died during the Great Supernatural War. Our nation was forever changed. Are you willing to risk such a thing again?”
“To restore our name? Absolutely. The other supernatural races humiliated us when we lost the Great Supernatural War. We haven’t earned back our honor since, and it is time we did so. Give me twenty years as king, and the fae shall rule the world,” Elijah said.
“And how do you plan to fund this war?” Lady Iris crossed her arms. “Wars take money, and the royal treasury is not open for pillaging.”
“We have all the funds available. We merely have to allocate,” Elijah insisted. “Malovia spends millions every year on our social programs, our sick, our elderly. These are all people who do not contribute to our society. If we cut these programs, limited healthcare and abolished our nation’s retirement fund for seniors, we’d have more than enough to build our army back up to the strength it once was. We will be so formidable the other supernatural races won’t dare to stand up against us. Not to mention we’ll finally be able to eliminate those bastard witches and warlocks in the West.”
A few notes of approval rang throughout the Circle. The thought of wiping out the Miriamic Coven, our greatest rivals, was a tantalizing treat for the Circle to savor.
But in exchange for what? Killing off anyone over sixty, anyone who couldn’t physically work or anyone who needed help? He was talking about taking away healthcare for people like Emma, for the gods’ sake!
“You’re suggesting we leave all these people to rot?” Lady Magdalina burst, echoing my thoughts. “How can we respect our elders if we leave them to die after they can no longer work? How can we call ourselves civilized people if we don’t tend to those who need us the most?”
“Their sacrifice would be worth it, for the good of Malovia. Those unable to contribute to our society should be glad to sacrifice their lives in the name of our country. Grandparents should be willing to die in order to bring greatness to our name, to provide a better life for our children,” Elijah rebuked. “Anyone who refuses to give up their life in service to Malovia is not a true Malovian, and doesn’t deserve our mercy. This cause is greater than any one fae.”
“Hear, hear!” Lord Morgane cried. I nearly threw up, but was able to keep the bile in my throat.
“The fae survive on community, young master. No shifter or sorceress is an island,” Lord Lucien said lowly. I was glad he’d spoken up— he’d been silent most of this time, but now was making a stand.
“And that’s our greatest flaw. People should fend for themselves,” Elijah argued. “Those who are willing to work hard will become successful, and see riches. Those who don’t will get what they deserve. Being poor and underprivileged is a sign of laziness, and we can’t have their kind weighing down the fae any longer. They were the reason we lost the war in the first place.”
“More like the rich are those who are privileged enough to be born into their station, and keep the poor under their boots,” I growled.
Elijah sneered, and Steward Soloman said, “Prince Ethan, though you are allowed to sit in on this meeting, you are not permitted to make commentary or ask any questions. Another word, and you will be thrown out.”
Lord Tremaine was stroking his beard. He was one of the