“This is Antal,” Boden said. “Former Lord Daeyari of this territory. Since Verne’s coup, he’s come to us seeking shelter. As many of us came to Nyskya seeking shelter.”
“Seeking shelterfrom him,” Kashvi said.
A murmur of agreement passed through the others.
“I come to ask your input,” Boden pressed. “Whether the daeyari should be allowed to stay.”
Yvette answered first, eyes like polished steel. “Why would we want him to stay?”
“Our conduits are breaking down,” Boden said. “Sabotaged, as part of Verne’s coup.”
“Sabotaged?” Savo said. “That’s why the transformer keeps losing connection?”
“Ours,” Boden said. “And others all over the territory. Antal has offered to repair our equipment.”
“At what cost?” Mal demanded through the thick of his beard.
Again, that line. Antal’s expression didn’t change. The tip of his tail flicked.
“He’s offered to help,” Boden deflected. “And he’s made good on that promise so far.”
“Because he wants us to fight Verne for him,” Kashvi said.
Silence.
The attendees looked to each other. To Boden and his stiff nod.
“We have a common enemy,” he said. “We ought to consider—”
“Which is wild, don’t you think?” Kashvi laughed, the caustic hitch of a cough at the end. “Why fight for a daeyari? We ought to be getting rid of the bastards entirely.”
Yvette scoffed. “Be reasonable, Kashvi.”
“Why not?” Kashvi tipped forward on her stool. “Why not fight for our own freedom?”
“Open a space, and another daeyari will move in. Tyvo. Or another neighbor.”
“Then we fight until they stop coming!”
“Verne is our immediate threat,” Boden said, a voice of forced calm.
“And we all know how rebellions against daeyari go,” Mal grumbled. “Over a century since the Brackenport uprising in Tyvo Territory, and they’re still pulling bodies out of that bog.”
While the others argued, Fi leaned a hip against the bar. She bit her tongue against Boden’s meek defense, didn’t say a damn word against Kashvi’s outbursts.
Too busy watching Antal.
Bastard still hadn’t said a word.
A politician’s son, she connected at last. Two centuries to hone that guarded facade, to decide when speaking benefited him, and when to let the humans run their mouths.
“But those rebellions are a little bit bullshit, aren’t they?” Fi spoke to the room, the others falling quiet at her comment, but she looked straight at Antal. “Because it’s calculated. Daeyari keep themselves mysterious, so they’ll seem more terrifying. They suppress stories of how to fight them.” Her voice dipped in accusation. “And you’re holding back technology from us, aren’t you?”
Antal didn’t balk at her attack. She did spot a flicker of surprise, a low twitch of his tail that suggested he’d not expected her to fight against him. But Fi was no fool. She’d not stand at his side if he promised her change but only spoke in half-truths, deflecting rather than—
“The conduits we give you are rudimentary,” he said. “Inefficient. Daeyari have had better technology for decades.”
Every human in the room flinched at his voice. Then fell very quiet at the implication.
