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Kerrigan winced with each new infraction added. The Society had all the bargaining chips on their side. They could and, apparently, had asked for everything. And the queen, in an effort to keep her people safe, had given it all away.
Fordham said nothing. He hardly even blinked as his people were stripped of everything that had made them what they were. She wanted to reach out to him, to offer comfort as the army cheered their victory and his demise. But he had been so adamant that he didn’t want them to turn on him that she had no way of doing that without putting a spotlight on him.
He should have been in those negotiations. He should have figured out a way to help those he cared about. But he hadn’t stepped forward as king even though he was the rightful heir.
And when the treaty was finished being read, he didn’t cheer with the others. He just stood there and watched as everyone celebrated. Then, he turned and walked away. Kerrigan didn’t know how to help him. So much of it was excessive. The House of Shadows had already lost so many lives. To confine them to the mountain they’d been isolated in felt cruel. To not permit them a place in the government they were now forced to be a part of was even worse. And what did that mean for Fordham? He was already part of the Society. Would he not ascend to an official position because of this treaty? It seemed ridiculous since he had fought for the winning side.
Kerrigan stepped forward, hoping to speak to Helly about it, but she was dismissed from the commander’s tent before she could even get inside.
She huffed and whirled around, determined to do something. Kerrigan’s eyes landed on another council member, Master Kress. He was in charge of the list of prisoners and working out who was and wasn’t a slave to be released. Something would have to be done with all the humans and half-Fae within the House of Shadows, as they could obviously no longer remain where they had been enslaved. Which gave Kerrigan an idea. She just wished it weren’t Master Kress.
“Sir,” she said as she approached him.
His eyes swept to her, and he sneered. “What is it, Miss Argon? Can you not see that I am busy?”
“Yes, sir. Of course. I was inquiring about two half-Fae slaves—Benton and Bayton.”
“Why?” he demanded.
“I’d like to request that they be released to me.”
“To you?” he asked. “You’re going to have two half-Fae slaves?”
She balked. “Of course not, sir. I was hoping to help them find work and a place to live in Kinkadia. They’re going to need a lot of help. There should be sponsors from within the Society for this, sir.”
He looked at her for a moment and then softened. “Too true. If only we could get more Society members to offer such.” He shrugged. “I’ll find them on my roster and have someone collect them. They should be ready to fly when we leave here.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Maybe spread it around that we’re looking for more sponsors.”
“Of course, sir,” she said with a brilliant smile. Kress had voted for kicking her out of the Society. She might have just turned one council member in her favor. One down, a dozen to go.
There was so much more work to do before they could all fly out. She helped round up prisoners and clear rubble from the city. She cleaned out burned buildings in the lower quarter, salvaged what she could of the boats she’d destroyed, and ran missions to nearby cities for supplies, mainly food. She was weary and ready to go home and not think about war for a hundred years or more.
But she knew that even when she returned, she wouldn’t really rest. She had started a movement for humans and half-Fae in the city. Bringing in all the displaced refugees from the House of Shadows would only swell their numbers. The Society might see them as a problem, but Kerrigan saw it as an opportunity. These people might be refugees, but they deserved fair treatment and a voice in the government as much as anyone else. And if no one else would take up the mantle, she would have to do it.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even realize she had crossed from the Society holdings over to the gap of land that led to the Bryonican soldiers until one of them hollered, “It’s Lord March’s fiancée!”
She froze at the word. Fiancée. It still left a bitter taste in her mouth.
March stepped out of his tent at those words. A smile lit his face as he found her gaze. She didn’t return the gesture. In fact, all she wanted to do was run as March purposely strode across the camp in her direction.
