you wrote up for the summit to create a new contract for this council,” Deirdre said. “I’ve got copies both of you can check out. All the other factions have already signed on, including Adàn Pedregon, and he’s a real pain in the ass.”
She took a pair of envelopes from her bag, handing one to Marion and then climbing the stairs to give the other to Konig. He’d sat on the throne that his mother had vacated. His lazy rockstar posture, and the fact that Violet had returned to tower at his side, made him look a little too sullen to be king.
“Here’s the proposal for those who can’t read War and Peace in a half-hour. Each speaker agrees to contribute to a system of checks and balances for the factions. When we vote on something, the vote’s binding, magical-style. If we all vote to say that it’s illegal for sidhe to eat cupcakes, we’ve all gotta enforce that.”
“I’m not voting against cupcakes,” Marion said.
“Just an example,” Deirdre said. “Full disclosure, motivated by my fancy-shiny bracelet: the voting body will also be capable of removing people from power. If Rylie Gresham goes nuts, we’ll be able to vote a new Alpha in without a nationwide election.”
Violet peered over her son’s shoulder at the contract. “This sounds unconscionably intrusive.”
“It’s a safety net meant to take overwhelming power from any one faction.”
“It’s undemocratic to take leadership choices away from the people,” Marion said.
Deirdre smiled at Marion. “The Alpha only became an electable position because Rylie wanted it that way, so she’s still got absolute power. Without this agreement, she can change her mind about holding elections at all.”
“This would impact the sidhe royal families.” Violet plucked the contract out of Konig’s hands.
He took it back. “Stop, Mother. This is my choice. You made me speaker for the unseelie. And I have to say, Deirdre, I’m intrigued.”
“You should be. This could save lives. A lot of lives.” Deirdre planted her hands on her hips. “Look, Genesis screwed everything up, big time. And you know what caused that?”
“The gods dicking around with reality?” Konig suggested.
“Pre-Genesis factions pissing off the gods. The angels were getting all up in everyone’s business, and the demons pulled the Breaking thing, and it was a mess. Rebooting the universe was the gods’ solution to cleaning it up. We’re lucky we didn’t get forty days and nights of rain too.”
“You want to be able to have all of the factions magically bound together to prevent another Genesis,” Marion said.
“Exactly,” Deirdre said. “We’ll only vote on big stuff like that. It takes ten of the twelve factions agreeing we need a vote in order to do it. Although we can also chat more casually about other stuff—open up more diplomatic relations and stuff.”
Marion skimmed her copy of the contract. It was bordered with ethereal runes like those she had all over spell books in her private home, back on Vancouver Island. She traced her fingertips along the runes as the internet guides to magic had instructed. The spells whispered their truths to her.
Despite the simple designs, the magic behind them was immense. The elegance and complexity were breathtaking. Marion had a hard time imagining she’d ever been able to craft such a thing even though her fingerprints were all over it. The spells practically sang in delight at her acknowledgment.
It would be easy enough to activate the runes in the master contract. Marion could definitely bind the council.
“This cannot go through,” Violet said.
“It’s not your decision,” Deirdre said. “Right, Prince ErlKonig?”
He puffed up at being addressed directly. “Right.”
“I like the idea,” Marion said. The last thing they needed was another Genesis, and the gods had made it clear they weren’t afraid of interfering when people made them angry. “I have to wonder, though—what’s the