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“I hope I do! At least I won’t have to listen to anyone else’s shite suggestions.”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
Fern reappeared, nearly taking the washroom door off its hinges when she ripped it closed. Leaning against it, she blew a wayward curl from her face and announced, “So, she’s still mad.”
“No,” Hedda said gently. “I mean yes, but she’s also panicking. Where’s Fal?”
“Gone to the kitchens for our breakfast after checking in,” Magnus answered, dazed. “Could someone please explain what’s going on?”
Vann crossed the seating area and flopped onto the settee with a sigh, his voluminous sage overcoat and platinum hair splashing across the embroidered damask fabric. “Araxis may have missed the mark with his delivery of a summons for Lunara from the Elder Council.”
“He did what?”
“May have?”
Magnus and Hedda spoke over one another, her scoff telling him plenty. If she thought it was bad…
“For the record, I was not privy to the finer details.” Vann gazed off into the distance as he ran a hand back and forth under his chin, his one black eye reflecting the clear blue sky outside. “I happened to be visiting Mum and Dad last night about something unrelated when the news reached Argoph that she’d awoken. Within an hour, Araxis showed up. When I said I was heading here, he asked to accompany me and wondered if I might be willing to help with a delicate matter, should the need arise. Why would I say no? I was as surprised as anyone when he sprang that scroll from the ether and presented it to Lyriat as if Lunara wasn’t standing right there. His first mistake.”
“Of many,” Hedda added. “And since I know you’re going to ask”—she pulled a faintly glowing and badly crumpled parchment from her belt and handed it over—“read this so you can be pissed off with the rest of us. It took me a full dozen times before I stopped seeing red on her behalf.”
Mag smoothed the message and scanned the words, Pet’s hackles rising with every one.
Greetings to His Majesty, The Demon King Lyriat of Straelon,
We, the Denizens of the Elder Tier and Council, do humbly seek the return of the Sisters’ most favored servant—Lunara the Moonweaver, Blessed and chosen Keeper of Illamiata—to the Elder Halls for her Presentation, to be held tonight beneath the first wane of the moons, in preparation not only for her ushering of Nachthelliae’s long-awaited Occurrence at the next full moonsrise, but her own venerated rise as vessel.
As mate to your High Ambassador—His Imperial Highness, Brandir aht Bordoroth, Blessed of Straelon, Fourth Imperial Son of Alwyn and Fionerys—the Blessed Keeper now holds status across our two illustrious realms. In light of this fact, we invite Your Majesty and His Highness, as well as your chosen escort, to attend both of these sacred occasions.
However, should the condition of our Blessed Keeper once more deteriorate and render this evening’s event improbable, we ask swift word be sent by way of our High Ambassador—His Imperial Highness, Araxis aht Bordoroth, Blessed of Nachthelliae, Blessed Nightmare of the Endless Dark, Fifth Imperial Son of Alwyn and Fionerys.
Yea, Sisters. Yea, Keeper. Yea, Evesong.
The Elder Council of Nachthelliae, by way of Cordelia the Firebane’s own hand.
It wasn’t until the second half of the last line that Mag let himself breathe, a warm wave of tension leaving his body as his shoulders fell. “Cordy wrote this.”
Hedda’s features twisted into a mask of disdain. “So?”
“So, Cordy truly loves Lunara. I saw it when she helped us sneak into the Elder Halls to steal the Tear Stone. This”—he waved the parchment and tossed it onto the low table between them—“is not quite the affront it seems. Besides, Cordelia the Firebane was born with the gleam in her eye. She’s clever. Obviously.”
—Obviously. Good catch, Maggie—
“Explain,” Hedda said.
“Well, I don’t know precisely how it went, but I would say the witchling certainly seems once more deteriorated,” he said, hiking his thumb towards the washroom. “Rather convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
“Fair. But we purposely didn’t include the Council in the most recent update on her health. Only Araxis was informed, in a private correspondence, which means he had to be the one who told them.”
“Ach, I’m disappointed, Second Commander. We’ve all got eyes in realms outside of our own, you know that. Anyone could’ve reported back.” He couldn’t help the track of his gaze as it followed Fern across the room, where she perched herself next to Vann with a sigh. “This seems more like a concerted effort on Araxis and Cordelia’s part to mitigate the damage of the Council finding out what we didn’t want them to. Surely you can see that.”
“I’ll admit, his heart didn’t seem to be in it,” Fern murmured, then grinned. “Still enjoyed seeing her lose her starry shit at him though. Spectacular.”
Vann groaned. “Intentions aside, it’s going to be a mess to clean up. I can feel it.”
Magnus swallowed when Fern speared him with a smug look at his brother’s declaration, the prickle on the back of his neck doubling. Tripling.
