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All I can do is hope he follows as I exit his office and pray to any gods listening and willing to grant favor that I will not be found by any council member or royal prince on my way.
Not even Vyrian.
My prayer is granted the moment I slip into the room and close the door nearly all the way. Pressing my back to the wall, I close my eyes, and I listen. And I wait.
And I wait.
It’s only when I’ve nearly given up hope that Dhoryn is going to follow me that I hear claws on the floor. I peer through the door as quickly as I can, and when I catch sight of him, I flash a hand and beckon him inside.
He steps in with quick precision, and I seal the door behind us.
“This is an odd room,” he says, glancing around. “How long have you had it?”
“Since Kori,” I tell him, and he winces, glancing away from me. “I needed a place that was not monitored. I have met Rathyn here several times.”
He sneers at the sound of his hatch-mate’s name. They never got along, even as young ones, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. But I can hope they will work together, assuming Dhoryn will stay on our side.
I want him as an ally, though I know if he chooses not to join me, he will not be against me. I have at least earned that.
“I have taken steps to begin my plans,” I tell him.
His ears flick. “Tell me.”
“Prince Sabik.” I see understanding dawning on his face. “The Tarek are likely willing to join our—my—cause.”
He’s silent for a long moment. “With conditions, I assume?”
“The Outerlands, and of course, a treaty.”
He hums, then starts to pace. “The Tarek have been underestimated for far too long. Before the archives were purged, there were records of several battles they won. They gained some ground in the Outerlands before their surrender.”
I was unaware of that, but I am not surprised, either. They surrendered their land to protect their people. Not because they had lost a violent war. “The Vyastil were once unwilling to lose massive numbers of our own people for pride,” I remind him. “And perfection. We once worked the mines as a collective. We didn’t use it as a pit to put our least wanted.”
Dhoryn swallows thickly, bowing his head. “I am…aware.”
I suppose that Dhoryn might have been threatened with the mines. He is unlike most Vyastil. Just as Prince Vyrian might have been sentenced to the mines if he were hatched by any Vyastil other than the royal family.
So I know that weighs heavily on him.
“What is it you want from me?” he asks.
I had not told him that before. I simply tested the waters between us to see if he would stand against me. Now, I stare him in the face. “I need allies amongst our people. I need to know who has bonded with their human. I need eyes inside the mines to see if there are any strong enough to rise up. I need Outerlanders willing to take up arms against the soldiers that have starved them.”
“And you wish me to be this liaison?” he demands.
“You are more with the common people than Rathyn,” I remind him. “You have lived on the border of the Outerlands since you left my home.”
He is silent for so long I worry he is about to leave the room and sell me to the highest bidder on the council. And then he ceases his pacing and closes the distance between us.
“Is this for your human, Eissa?”
“This is for all of the Vyastil that we have failed,” I tell him. “I have been on the council, complicit in all of this, for too long.”
His lips thin and his fangs poke over his lower lip. “Would you sacrifice your human for this cause?”
“No.” I cannot lie to him. “He is VySytheh. He is mine. I would die with him.”
“You have bonded,” he says flatly.
