“The king is tied to the land,” says Baphen. “Cursing the king means cursing the land itself. My queen, there may be only one way to heal—” “Enough,” I say to Baphen and Randalin and the rest of the Council, startling the guards. I stand. “We are done with this discussion.” “But you must—” begins Randalin, then he seems to see something in my face and goes quiet. “We’re meant to advise you,” says Nihuar in her syrupy voice. “We are thought to be very wise.” “Are you?” I ask, and the voice that comes out is honeyed malice, the exact tone Cardan would have used. It spills out of me as though I
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