"Seek not to have your way in all things. When you had your way before, your mastery broke before the end."

—From Oedipus the King

By Sophocles

THE OUTRAGE THAT GREETED HIM when he stepped into the conference room was nothing compared to the verbal lashing his mother had given him earlier today. At least, that was what he told himself as he strode into the room where the council of advisors was gathered. The majority of them were Thornes - lesser cousins propped up into a place of higher importance than they should have been, in his eyes.

Green and gold - the Thorne colours - decorated the conference room, which was on the highest storey of a desolate tower. No one would hear them for miles, out here, which had not lent itself to good things in the past. A lack of spies, perhaps, for not even servants were allowed in here when business was being conducted, but also a lack of accountability. Golden candles were placed in brass sconces around the room, while green rugs with a pattern of gold leaves covered the stone floor. Green chairs surrounded a wooden table that had been polished until its golden-brown surface shone.

Vines wrapped around pillars of marble that supported a domed roof - much like the one Jovana had made a crash landing onto only last night - and the gaps between them were filled with white, billowing linen curtains. Many a man had died here, being pushed out between the gaps to fall to his death during a council meeting upon saying something treacherous or that which the king or the majority disagreed with. Indeed, Atla could perhaps be considered even harsher than Mordania, with its cold-hearted, bloodthirsty people rather than a merely cold climate. But that was a thought for another time.

Holly followed close behind him and stood on his left as he reached his seat, her visage expressionelss but always, always watching. Observant. Keen. She had not responded to his proposal last night - which inwardly left him in turmoil, but he had too much royal business to deal with at the moment to possibly think of his emotional turmoil. Jovana Dusang had said to him months ago that she would rather... what had her words been? She would rather die a queen in Mordania than languish in Atla as a traitor? Something along those lines.

Why had her mind changed now? Because she could fight for the crown rather than wed for it? Something about this scenario was not quite right. He would get to the bottom of it, and sooner, rather than later.

But for now, he had a council of angry men and women to face. He was not sure their next family reunion would go smoothly.

"Let this meeting be called to order," he said, clearing his throat and banging the gavel. He would admit to himself that he enjoyed using the gavel perhaps a tad too much. "May all rise."

They all did as he took his seat. Then they were seated after him.

"Your Majesty," said Colin Thorne. "We must address the most pressing matter at hand. How could you allow Jovana Dusang, the queen of Mordania, to compete against you in the tournament for the next dynasty of Atla?"

"Why, Colin, do you believe I shall lose against her?" Next to him, he felt, rather than heard, Holly's stifled laugh. He had trapped Colin into a bind. To say that Kaiden would lose would be an insult to his king. To say that he would win would say that Kaiden was right in allowing her to compete.

"I only meant that it breaks tradition, Your Majesty," Colin said in a sheepish tone. "Do forgive me."

"Well, traditions were made to be broken, were they not?" he said, drumming his ringed fingers on the table. "The next matter, please."

Victor Thorne was less easily convinced, his greying hair falling over his green eyes as he spoke. "Your Majesty, I do not believe this matter has been resolved. The Competition is a sacred rite performed every generation. To allow a foreigner to compete in it is simply far too dangerous, not to mention appalling."

"Perhaps it is appalling to your sensibilities," he said, and produecd a small vial from his pocket alongside a velvet pouch. "But truly, Victor, you are a bit, how shall I put it...? Old fashioned, in that regard."

"Why, you are rather..." Victor began to splutter, before he caught sight of the vial and velvet pouch. "What is that, Your Majesty?"

"You shall soon see," he responded calmly. "Inside this vial is an ancient magic which the librarian was so kind as to provide me with. If it detects Atlan blood, even a drop, but especially large quantities, it will change colour from black to green. Inside this pouch is a strand of the Mordanian queen's hair. I am sure even someone as narrow-minded as you are can understand that which I propose to do with the two of these things."

Victor was silent, fuming. He was surprised steam had not begun pouring from the man's ears. Meanwhile, the other council members - his mother included - had leaned forward in their seats and were watching with rapt interest.

"Now, I shall combine these two." He felt rather like a scientist in a laboratory, combining poisons to see if they made cures.

Everyone held their breath, even Victor, as the vial was uncorked and its substances became a bright, crisp, grass-hued green. Then, again, as it separated and showed another substance floating on top of the green: a stark, blinding, blood red colour.

"Red?" Holly mouthed at him in confusion.

He shrugged in response.

There was no doubt about it. Jovana Dusang was certainly one half Atlan, and if his suspicions were correct, then she was also one half Mordanian.

No Dusang at all... but what, then? A member of which house? He couldn't imagine the formidable former Queen of Mordania being anything but powerful and in control, so it would not have been forced upon her. No, she had had an affair, then, perhaps. Twenty-one years ago.

At her coronation. Which, if he remembered correctly, both of his parents had attended.

Something twisted in him. He would need to ask his mother. Quickly, he recapped the vial, trying to shake its contents, but they remained stubbornly separate. "Well, then. That clears up any sorts of questions regarding her lineage, I should hope, and thus her ability to compete in the tournament for the future dynasty of Atla."

"Even if we accept the validity of her bloodline," his mother broke in, her icy glare conveying to him that she had yet to forgive him for springing this upon them. "We must not disregard her upbringing: in a foreign court, in a foreign country, raised to be their sovereign. This desire to compete in the tournament for the next dynasty of Atla is clearly a move for more power. She wants nothing more than to become queen of both countries, it seems."

"Would such a thing even be possible?" Colin asked, resting his chin on his palm. "To be queen of both nations at the same time? That seems rather implausible. After all, we have been at war for centuries."

"Was the king not nearly wed to her?" said Miranda Thorne, a vicious gleam coming into her eye. "Why would that be so different from this?"

"Being a wife and a trophy is one thing," Victor said as the room lost its weak hold on sanity and dissolved further into chaos. "But to be ruler...."

"That would be another thing entirely. It would be treasonous to both countries, would it not?" Nadia Thorne's eyebrows rose, telling him that she had already answered her own question and would brook no argument against it.

"Certainly," Kaiden said. "It would be mutually assured destruction."

His mother's eyes flashed, the colour of honey and amber and so many deceivingly warm things. "Be assured, my king, that no matter what you may want for your enemies, you may find the same fate visited upon your own home. And I believe none of us wish for that."

"It does not matter." He shrugged off his mother's words, her veiled threats. He was king still, not her. "I am king, and I will do as I wish until I am king no longer."

As he swept out of the room, Colin murmured under his breath, "You may find that that day comes sooner than you expect."