tax on oil for us to pay?”
Indeed, that had been the most recent news—higher land and production taxes. The tax on a jar of second-pressed oil would soon be almost as much as its cost was, due to be paid at the end of the season.
“Here,” Evadne said, dumping her olive clippings into her cousin’s arms. “Take these inside. I will see what he wants.” She walked across the warm flagstones and opened the gates.
The herald sighed, annoyed. He brushed the dust from his tunic and said, “I have been ringing this bell for close to half an hour!”
“Forgive us, herald. My family is preparing the villa for a visitor tomorrow.” Visitor, as if Halcyon were a stranger. Evadne raised her brows, expectant. “What news do you bring us?”
The herald withdrew a roll of papyrus, bound by a wax seal. It was crushed, a testament of its long journey from the royal city of Mithra. “A new decree, by order of Queen Nerine.”
Once, the mere sound of the queen’s name had conjured wonder and hope in Evadne. Queen Nerine ruled Corisande with honor and equality and justice. Her profile had been etched upon the silver Akkia coins, and Evadne had often held that coin in her palm, trying to memorize the queen’s features, as if Evadne could become her someday.
But that had been years ago. Before the laws and taxes had begun to creep heavier and heavier upon common people.
She broke the seal and unrolled the papyrus, knowing the herald would not leave until he watched her read it.
By Order of Nerine, Queen of Corisande, Descendant of the Divine Acantha, Ruler of the Common Court and the Magical Court, Lady of the Origenes Sea:
From this day forth, the seventeenth day of the Archer’s Moon, it is now recorded in the annals that any common person, should they come into the possession of a divine relic, is no longer considered a member of the Magical Court. A heavy fine will be imposed upon relic possessors who do not surrender their discoveries to the Mages’ Council at the School of Destry.
Evadne rolled up the decree, her face guarded as the herald turned to mount his horse, and ride to the next village. She closed the gates with a clang, her mind consumed with thoughts of the gods and their relics.
There were nine divines. Well, eight now, since Kirkos was no longer considered a deity with his fall. Magda, mother goddess of the sun; Irix, father god of the sky; and their seven divine offspring: Ari, goddess of the moon and dreams; Nikomides, god of war; Acantha, goddess of fate and knowledge; Euthymius, god of earth and beasts; Loris, goddess of water and sea; Pyrrhus, god of fire; and Kirkos, god of the wind.
Centuries ago, when the kingdom of Corisande had just begun, the nine gods and goddesses came down to live among the mortals. They ate mortals’ food, drank their wine, slept in their beds. And so their magic had trickled into mortal blood, and magical children had been born.
But not every child born inherited the magical gift of the gods. It was a fickle thing, skipping a son or a daughter, and then skipping entire generations. Keeping track of a family’s lineage soon became an obsessive hobby for the upper class, who would arrange marriages and count generational gaps, trying in vain to predict when the next mage would be born in the family.
When the gods and goddesses realized the clamor they had inspired, they left the mortal kingdom, returning to their villas in the sky to be worshipped at a distance. But they each left behind a possession, a relic of theirs that was infused with magic. The divines hid them throughout Corisande, hoping the relics would be claimed by common-blooded people, those who were magicless. So the era of relic hunters had begun. To find and possess a relic meant one could wield a tiny source of magic, no matter their common blood. They could join the prestigious Magical Court. Until now, Evadne thought with a frustrated sigh.
“What does it say?” Maia called, leaning out one of the villa windows.
Evadne walked it to her cousin, watching Maia scowl as she read the edict.
“How ridiculous! Why would the queen even decree this?”
“It sounds as if the Magical Court is tired of common people joining their ranks,” Evadne said. “And they complained so much about it that the queen had no other choice but to cast it into law.”
Maia crinkled it