Seven months later, I found myself sitting in yet another council meeting with a group of nobles whose greed knew no bounds.
My fingers drummed against the armrest of my chair as they bickered about how to redistribute trade routes to line their already overstuffed pockets.
Gold this, gold that—it was enough to make me want to scream.
"No, Your Majesty, you don't understand!" Lord Malkin whined, his nasal voice grating on my nerves. "We simply must impose higher tariffs on foreign merchants. It's for the prosperity of the kingdom!"
I raised an eyebrow, glaring at him. "For the prosperity of the kingdom, or for the prosperity of your coffers, Lord Malkin?"
The room fell silent for a beat, and I could see him squirm under my gaze. His face turned an interesting shade of beetroot, but before he could stammer out a reply, another noble chimed in.
