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Had they hoped I wouldn’t be able to show up in time? I inclined my head, careful not to make the gesture look anything like a bow, and said, ‘I’m grateful you could receive me on such short notice.’
The fact that I wasn’t swinging more chairs around seemed to reassure them a little; the others were sitting straighter now, faces pulled back into masks of perfect composure. Directly opposite me, at the centre of their little circle, was the male with the braided red hair and razor-sharp jaw whose portrait Lyn had shown me before any of the others – Lord Khailandakhsyr-something-something, known as Khailan to anyone who didn’t feel like memorising the thirty syllables of his full name,and oldest phoenix alive. Powerful mage. Accomplished archer. Lauded poet.
Also, currently wingless.
The sharp edges of the bracelet pressed reassuringly into the flesh of my forearm.
‘We have met with your father,’ Khailan told me, voice a polished drawl that set me on edge from the very first syllable. ‘Lord Agenor.’
They’ll want to make small talk for a while. Discuss mutual acquaintances. The weather. The splendour of the hall in which you have gathered.Lyn’s words echoed in my mind.Getting straight to the point will be considered the height of impoliteness.
‘I know who my father is, thank you,’ I said icily, smiling back at the male opposite me with an insincerity that matched his own. ‘He told me about your meeting. If I recall correctly, you were suggesting a bargain of some kind – something to do with my communications with Creon Hytherion.’
Their scandalised glances were subtle, but still scandalised.
‘Ah,’ Khailan said stiffly. ‘Yes.’
‘So I thought it would be easiest to just visit you in person and decide the matter once and for all,’ I continued, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs with another bright smile at him. ‘I’ll keep it simple – that bargain is not going to happen. As glad as I would be to have you by our side in the upcoming war, this is not a price I’m able to pay. But I will be happy to discuss acceptable alternatives, of course.’
The short male to Khailan’s left cleared his throat – Mydhar, I recalled, or at least, that was the sensible part of his voluminous name. ‘A rather surprising decision, Lady Emelin.’
‘Is it?’ I said politely.
‘And as older and wiser allies, we must urge you to reconsider.’ His sing-song voice managed to be sharp and syrupy at the sametime. ‘You may not be aware yet, but there have beenworryingrumours concerning the nature of your relationship with the Silent Death. A refusal from you to decisively disprove those rumours …’
He didn’t finish his sentence, allowing it to die away in a tone that suggested all had been said.
‘Yes?’ I said, raising my eyebrows.
‘We cannot join a war if we cannot trust the primary instigator of the conflict,’ Drusa said, her voice as sharp as her thin nose. ‘Your father, an intelligent male, understood that without question.’
I was beginning to see where things may have gone awry between Lyn and her.
‘My father,’ I said, ‘an intelligent male, trusts me.’
That shut her up for a moment.
‘Your father is also fae,’ Khailan said coldly. ‘We cannot expect him to fully understand the danger you or your … accomplice … may pose to the continued existence of our people. Neither, does it seem, do you, Lady Emelin.’
‘Bold,’ I said, ‘to tell a half human who’s nearly starved to death several times in her life that she does not understand the threat posed by the fae empire, Lord Khailan.’
‘A human would not hesitate to denounce Creon Hytherion,’ he retorted.
‘Creon Hytherion is not the core of our argument,’ I said coolly, and in the face of all his pompous viciousness, it sounded far truer than when I’d lain awake last night, practicing the sentence to myself. ‘It’s whether I’ll allow anyone to wield that sort of power over me. Have you considered the precedent we would be setting, Lord Khailan?’
He cocked his head at me, slowly turning one of his golden rings around his finger as he stared me down. ‘How many other fae torturers do you count among your acquaintances?’
‘It’s not a matter of torturers,’ I said with a shrug. ‘My father, as you just observed so sharply, is both fae and a former supporter of the Mother. What if, say, one of the vampire kings whose islands were attacked under Agenor’s command asks me to swear a bargain never to speak with him again? Am I supposed to never exchange a word with my own father for the rest of my life, then? I can hardly refuse such a thing if I already agreed to it with another ally.’
Khailan remained silent, slender jaw clenched tight. Next to him, Drusa looked as if she’d swallowed a lemon whole.
‘Here’s what I propose,’ I added, leaning forward so that Alyra hastily had to readjust her weight on my shoulder. ‘I can bargain I will never attempt to keep Phurys under any sort of fae rule. That I won’t be complicit in, assist with, or stay silent about such an attempt if I know about it. But my contacts and conversations are my own to choose.’
‘You will be too easily manipulated that way,’ Khailan said sharply. ‘Do you truly expect us to share any details of our defences or weak spots with you when we know every crumb of information may well end up in Hytherion’s hand the next moment?’
I shrugged. ‘Do I strike you as easily manipulated?’
‘You are a child,’ he said with a derisive flick of his hand. ‘A young girl in the clutches of a monster. You’ve barely seen your twentieth summer, for goodness’ sake! You’d never seen a magical isle until a year ago! In a few decades, you will look back and understand—’
