Summerfall by Claire Legrand

of fear.
    “It says here,” began Commander Henning, but then he trailed off, his eyes wide.
    “Out loud, Henning,” said the king. Rinka looked to him for comfort and found none; his eyes were blazing, his mouth tight.
    “It says here,” began Commander Henning once more, “that a group of soldiers in Lord Drachstelle’s employ has separated from the other conscripted forces and declared themselves the Restoration. They are currently traveling south, into the faery lands, burning villages as they go. They claim . . .” Commander Henning paused. His gaze flickered to the faery delegates, uncomfortable.
    “Yes?” Alban insisted.
    “They claim to be on a mission to purify Cane of the ‘unclean creatures of the south.’ They claim only they can save the country from the faeries’ wicked influence.”
    An uproar. Garen leapt to his feet, the other faeries joining him in protest. The mages soon followed, ordering them silent, demanding more information from Henning—except Rohlmeyer, who remained seated, his hands folded on the table.
    “Enough,” snapped the king, and silence fell. “Henning, this is unacceptable. As commander of my army, you approved the appointment of the Drachstelle captains, did you not?”
    “Yes, my king.”
    “And yet these captains are apparently unfit to discipline their soldiers and keep them from running amok like crazed savages?”
    “Sometimes not even exceptional captains, darling,” said Liane evenly, “are enough to keep dedicated soldiers from doing what they think is right by their own people.”
    Rinka knew she should keep quiet, and yet she could not. “You think this is some sort of retribution for what happened at the school?”
    “I think,” said the queen, her eyes fixed on Alban, “that there are many in this country who remain unsatisfied with the prisoners’ sentences and crave a more fitting form of punishment. I think we should expect more, similar violence if we do not appease those citizens who feel they have been betrayed by their king.” The queen paused, her mouth curving into a small smile. “You might have noticed this discontent, my dearest love, only you have been rather preoccupied as of late.”
    A tense silence fell; outside, a bird dipped past the window, casting a tiny, darting shadow across the sun-drenched table. Rinka refused to acknowledge the icy fall of dread down her back.
    Is this , she wondered, alarmed, because of us?
    Because of me?
    She dismissed the thought at once. This was a natural—if regrettable—consequence of the tension present throughout the country. It had nothing to do with her any more than it had anything to do with Garen.
    “Henning, I want these rogues stopped,” Alban said at last. His hard gaze did not leave the queen. “Find them, apprehend them, and bring them here. They will answer to me. And do it quickly. Liane, you will write to Lord and Lady Drachstelle and invite them here. I wish to speak with your cousins, and a letter will not do.”
    The queen’s eyes flickered with something Rinka could not read. “Of course, my king.”
    “Rohlmeyer,” continued Alban, tearing his eyes away from his wife to glare at the impassive mage, “I want you to oversee an investigation into the unlawful abduction of and experimentation on faery citizens, perpetrated by the physicians and mages residing in Erstadt.” He paused, looked at each of the Seven mages in turn. “Each of you will assist Rohlmeyer in this.”
    That was enough to send Rohlmeyer’s eyebrows shooting up. Rinka held her breath. Alban had sent out his own spies to begin investigating this very thing, the day after he promised Rinka he would. They had both decided it would be best to hide the investigation from the Seven mages for as long as possible, in case any of them were involved. That Alban would have as good as accused Rohlmeyer of these crimes, in front of everyone, meant he must have been even angrier than Rinka thought.
    “I beg your