The metal king sat very still, the cogs of his body hissing. Then, in a voice slick like oil, said, “So this was your surprise, Syla.My enemy of the sea.She comes sailing on my killdoms. Mycapturedkilldoms. Did you plan to tell me, or was this all part of your grand reveal?”
Syla started, protesting, and then Bormani chimed in, and then Risha tried to calm thembothas they shouted over the other.He is mistaken, Elena thought, as Risha slammed her hand against the table and called for order.I am not his intended enemy of the sea.
“Really, Syla?” Queen Kysha of Karven said once the clamor quieted. She was a tall, thin woman, with long pale limbs and even paler hair braided to resemble crowns upon her head. She smiled, her black-stained lips peeling back to reveal gem-encrusted molars. “I didn’t know you still plotted, old man.”
The Karvenese queen sat across the round table, beside Queen Risha, but Elena felt as if the woman was right beside her, her voice and eyes pricking her skin with the delicacy of a snake bite.
“And with such a young thing,” she mused. “Have you two formed an alliance, then? Conspired to make us look like fools?”
“Peace, Kysha,” Risha said.
“How long have you been hiding her, Syla?” Kysha continued. “And who is the pet she brings?”
“You’d do well to remember, Kysha, who the pets are in this room,” Syla said, looking between her and Farin. Kysha’s face tightened, but her cool smile did not drop. She simply sat back in her seat, silent, watchful, but Elena caught how Farin’s roaming metal eye skittered to the pale queen.
Jantar and Karven had a long-running alliance, longer than Ravence and Cyleon. Elena did not expect any support from the queen and her frigid country, but she wondered who held the power in the relationship. Was Karven a pet, like Syla insinuated of Veran?
“I had a pet once,” King Bormani said mournfully. “A marjarah, with silver fur. Her name was Adria.”
Kysha rolled her eyes as Risha turned to Elena. “Is it true you come sailing in on Jantari killdoms?”
“I come to you all with every intention of preventing a war,” she said. “It will be up to this council, on the heads of all its kings and queens, if it comes to pass.”
Kysha bristled, and even Bormani was bright enough to scowl. Though it was not a threat, it was clear: The blame would be on them, not her. An indelicate way to begin negotiations, but Elena had neither the subtlety nor the time to care.
“My family was murdered. My kingdom was taken. It’s true that the Arohassin were behind it, but they were mere puppets. Controlled by another hand. A hand that controls all of you now.”
Bormani guffawed. “No hand controls Veran, young queen.”
“Nor Karven.”
The Tsuani queen looked disturbed. “Elena, surely you are not suggesting we are puppets—”
Elena jerked toward her, and the sudden movement made Risha lean back as she responded, her tone acidic, “I do.”
Silence thrummed, alive, intense. At once, the room shifted. Gone was their confusion, their half-curious amusement. The regents of the council looked nervous, or pissed. Slowly, Elena dragged her eyes across each and every one of them until, finally, she found the gaze of their master. She leaned forward, her voice full of all the loss and anger and grief of the past sun, sharpened into a blade, cutting deep.
“King Farin of Jantar, I accuse you of regicide. I accuse you of orchestrating the murder of my father and the attempt on my life through the Arohassin. You unlawfully invaded my country and thus stand in contempt of the Treaty of Borders. You are the master behind the carnage, the hand that pulls the strings. And I demand my reparations.”
Risha inhaled sharply while Kysha scowled, as if now tasting the sour bite behind the skin of a fruit. Bormani looked sick. Only Farin remained composed, his hands folded placidly before him. His metal eye still roaming, seeking. His unfailing calm irritated her at best, infuriated her at worst, and Elena fought to keep her vision aligned. The hungry call of her Agni at bay.
He thought he could bury her. Silence her. Take her country like a thief in the night. Even now, with his unflinching composure, Farin believed he had the upper hand. But despite all his best efforts, he had not been able to kill her, and this undeniable fact gave Elena courage. Her Agni flared, and Samson shifted behind her in discomfort. She could almost taste it—her acidic desire for vengeance.
Elena sucked in a breath, savoring the ashen taste, and said, “I demand the freedom of RavenceandSeshar.”
Chaos erupted. Bormani and Kysha spoke at once, shouting. Syla turned to Risha for help, who called for order, as the attendants around them fluttered in agitation, unsure of what to do.
“Seshar is not a kingdom that has been recognized—” Bormani cried.
“—it would jeopardize the metal trade—” Kysha interjected.
“Perhaps Ravence is founded, but Seshar—” Risha reasoned.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” Farin said, his voice rising and silencing the rest.
At their obedience, Elena smiled inwardly, joylessly. Even if they did not know it, they were his puppets. Dancing along to his strings, his pauses and his whims, cajoling if only for more metal, more trade, more power and influence. Farin held an invisible influence over them all. Their sudden quiet was yet more proof.
“On the contrary. I know exactly what I’mdemanding.” She jabbed the table with a finger. “One, the removal of all Jantari troops from Ravence and Seshar. I do not want to see another zeemir within their borders. Two”—she jabbed another finger—“the nullification of all outstandingSesharian labor contracts in your regime, and three”—she held up her fingers, high and stiff, like a blade—“a head from your family. Your son perhaps. My father is dead, and I want blood for blood.”
