CoS43

## Chapter 43

**Chapter 43** of **City of Spells** follows **Saxony**.

## **Full Version**

THE CITY OF YEJLATH felt like a ghost city, despite the fact that it was crawling with soldiers. Ashwood had only taken a small part of his army to Creije and the rest had been here, in the government city, where Schulze’s people had bested them.

The people not dead were already imprisoned and Schulze’s soldiers patrolled the cobbled streets for any enemies they had missed, but even with the sparse groups of everyday people meandering across the roads, Saxony couldn’t help but think Yejlath looked rather sad.

The Halls of Government were well guarded, and earlier, when Saxony, Tavia, and Karam had walked toward the collection of grandiose buildings, Saxony noticed how pristine they still looked, even after the bloody battle that had taken place on their steps just days before.

They were painted an even cream, arching in high bulbous statues, with grand gold doors and cobblestoned pathways. But with no people and no echo of the music that usually flowed from the windows—remnants of the enchanted government orchestra instruments that played endless symphonies from dusk until dawn—they had a dead quality to them that made Saxony’s jaw go tight.

Ashwood had sucked the spirit from this realm and it would take time to call it back.

Saxony shuffled among the crowd.

Karam, Tavia, and Zekia were lined up alongside her, as rows of the realm communicators—who usually spread gossip faster than news—waited among the public in anticipation for the talk to begin.

It would be the first time the Doyen had made an official appearance and an official announcement since the war had ended, and Saxony was eager to hear exactly what it was she had to say after days spent in discussion with Wesley.

Schulze hadn’t let the rest of them be a part of the talks. It was a sacred and serious discussion, she’d said, between her and the underboss, who could represent the buskers and the Crafters.

After all, Wesley belonged to both.

“I wish they’d hurry up,” Tavia said. “I need to pee.”

“Then pee here,” Karam said. “It is not like anyone expects buskers to have manners.”

“Is that why you brought knives?” Tavia asked. “Because you’re so well mannered?”

“They argue a lot, huh?” Zekia asked.

She was standing on her tiptoes so that she could whisper in Saxony’s ear.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Saxony said.

She smiled at her sister, and when Zekia laughed, a peace fell into Saxony’s heart.

She couldn’t believe her little sister was laughing at her side again.

The crowd rumbled, murmurs growing as Fenna Schulze finally walked out onto the stage, followed by over a dozen armed guards and Wesley Thornton Walcott. He stood next to the podium as Schulze cleared her throat and readied to address the realm.

“I am here today not just as your Doyen, but as a citizen of this realm,” she said. “As many of you know, just days ago the Kingpin known as Dante Ashwood was killed, as part of a joint effort between our forces and volunteers from buskers and Crafters across the realm.”

The audience stirred at the mention of Crafters.

Saxony’s people were supposed to be the bad guys, after all.

“Because of these noble efforts, we were able to end the war that threatened our peace and our freedom,” Schulze continued. “And with thanks to our allies, we were also able to develop a cure for Dante Ashwood’s mind-control elixir. This has already been made available across Creije and Yejlath, and will be distributed to the other cities in the realm within the coming days.”

Saxony had been the one to create more of the cure she had fashioned from her family’s blood, teaching other Crafters how to do the same and imbuing it with duplication magic so that it could spread more seamlessly across the realm. It was still a work in progress, but thanks to her, the magic factories where love elixirs and all manner of legal and overpriced magic were usually concocted were now able to produce and reproduce the elixir faster than ever.

She didn’t expect any personal thanks, but a little nod wouldn’t have gone amiss.

“Those infected with the Loj will be given clemency,” Schulze said.”They will be cured and given the chance at a second life, closely monitored by amityguards for a limited time. Those not marked with the Loj, who followed Dante Ashwood because they shared his vision, will be found, arrested, and will face trial. We do not take their crimes lightly.”

Schulze said the last part like she was still addressing an army, rather than a crowd of civilians and communicators. She looked like a warrior instead of a politician.

“Now I must talk to you about the continued alliance we plan to have with both the buskers and the Crafters, all of whom were essential in helping us to secure this victory,” she said.

At that point, Wesley moved forward, his shoulder brushing not so lightly against the Doyen’s as he leaned into the speaker.

“That’s where I come in,” he said, adjusting his tie.

With a tight jaw, Schulze stepped aside to give Wesley the full platform, which he looked all too pleased by.

“Dante Ashwood is dead and you won’t be surprised to know that *I’m* the one who killed him,” Wesley said.

A few of the crowd sucked in a breath, but most kept their mouths firmly shut.

Which was probably the smart course to take.

Only one spoke up—

“Will you be vying to take his place?” a woman asked. “You were the underboss of Creije, weren’t you?”

Saxony resisted the urge to let her magic rise up to the surface. After all Wesley had done, after *saving the realms*, they still thought he was the same as the Kingpin. That he was just another underboss on a power trip.

“Alleged underboss,” Wesley said. “And nobody is taking Ashwood’s place. The time of black magic dealing in Uskhanya is over, just like the time for fearing magic is over. All magic sold on the streets will be legal, with more charms available than before, and buskers trading within the law. And, it also must be said, Crafters who feared being hunted or used for magical profit will now be free to live their lives as anyone else might. They do not have to be afraid and they do not have to hide.”

Saxony swallowed.

Karam threaded their hands together.

A free world, where Saxony and her family—where all of her people—could have a real life, with no hiding and no secrets. They could leave the Uncharted Forest and explore what the rest of the realms had to offer, without being scared that leaving their homes would mean never being able to return.

“We will have a world where everyone is equal and magic can be dealt safely,” Wesley said. “Of course, there will be bans on dangerous charms, but as a whole we need to learn to respect magic instead of fear it. Just like we must learn to respect Crafters. It was only because of magic that we were able to stop Dante Ashwood.”

Schulze cleared her throat, like the truth of that made her more uncomfortable than anything.

“We need to unite,” Wesley said. “Civilians, amityguards, buskers, and Crafters. It’s the only way for peace.”

His eyes scanned the crowd, the look on his face similar to the one he wore as an underboss, except this time there was a new authority to it, not rooted in ego or the desire to be the best, but the need to keep as many people safe as he could.

To protect Creije as he had always done.

Saxony never thought that she’d feel proud of Wesley Thornton Walcott, but looking at him now, standing in front of a microphone as the realms watched on, a Doyen by his side, that was exactly what she felt.

He didn’t want to take over the magic trade; he wanted to make sure there wasn’t a trade that could harm their people. Just magic, some good, some not so good, but all of it available and none of it made to keep Crafters in shackles.

“This is the beginning of a new realm,” Wesley said. “And a fresh start for us all.”

He held out his hand for the Doyen to shake, a formality that was so desperately needed in these times.

Schulze looked down at Wesley’s hand, and with only the smallest of frowns did she clasp it in her own.

Saxony let out a long breath, and for once it wasn’t a sigh or a preparation for scary futures to come.

It was relief.

It was hope.

Doyen Schulze was willing to make a deal to give Crafters the chance at a normal life. Finally, more than fifty years after the War of Ages had ended, their realm and her people could begin to heal.

This was the future Saxony had always wanted. It was the reason she had come to Creije: to avenge her family by killing Ashwood, to free her people by changing the laws and attitudes toward magic, and to unite the people she loved.

She had done all of that now, and with her sister at her side and her brother onstage shaking hands with a Doyen, Saxony felt her heart lift.

This was everything she had ever dreamed of. And so finally she could stop dreaming and start living.