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She knew that her father also took petitions, but they took place in his throne room, a place she was forbidden to enter. All she knew was that her father was always in a sour mood on the days he received petitions, and those were the days she had to make herself particularly inconspicuous.
"You might find it interesting," he said. "But it would also be a good opportunity for others to observe you. Many were displeased that we negotiated for you with Atera. Seeing you would help to assuage their doubts."
It was no surprise that some of the elves would be unhappy with her being there. It was true that many seemed fascinated by her now that she'd changed, but the elves who had brought her to Viranhildr had been none too pleased.
"What were the negotiations?" Cera asked. "That is, what did you have to give Atera in exchange for me?"
"Your father didn't tell you?"
Cera might have thought Isael were making a joke, but there was no spark of playfulness in his eyes. It was a serious question.
"He did not," she said, declining to elaborate. If Isael didn't realize how insignificant she had been to her father, she certainly wasn't going to tip him off.
"I would need all afternoon to detail everything," he said. "It was primarily trade agreements, as well as a considerable investment in the Ateran military."
"But no alliance?"
She didn't know much about her father's political maneuverings, but she knew her sister Rimera had secured an alliance with Kyta. As a child, it had been hammered into Cera that she would secure an alliance with the elves.
A whole continent united by the granddaughters of a whore.
"That was what he wanted," Isael said, giving her a measuring look. "He would have forgone all negotiations if we'd agreed to an alliance, but for us, that was a non-starter. Given the position of our lands, it is important that we remain neutral."
Esryia occupied the center of the continent, from the southern sea, to the impassable mountains of the north. Atera was to the east, Kyta to the west. The two human nations were constantly at odds with one another, even after the alliance her father had brokered. But never had there been a true war between the two, as it would require moving troops through the elven lands.
"What about a defensive pact?" Cera mused. "That way the elves wouldn't be drawn into a war unless someone attacked Atera first."
Isael's hand came up, his fingers brushing against the side of Cera's head. Gently, he pulled a leaf free from her silver tendrils, casting it onto the wind. As his hand moved back down, she drew in a surreptitious breath, taking in his scent.
"A defensive pact would be no better than an alliance," Isael said. "It is easy to fabricate a justification for war. Do you believe your father is above such a thing?"
She shook her head, feeling foolish. A few moments speaking to Isael and she'd actually thought she could give him advice. Her, advise the immortal high lord of the elves on politics.
Hah.
Still preoccupied with her own foolishness, she absently asked, "I'll never see my father again, will I?"
"Do you want to see him again?"
There he went again, answering her question with a question.
"I don't know."
"Lie."
She blinked at him. "Is it?"
Isael didn't respond. They had reached another crossroads in the path, one clearly leading out of the gardens, another taking them still farther north. In spite of her fatigue, Cera was glad when they continued north, heading into a sparsely wooded area.
"Would you like to take dinner with me in my chamber tonight?"
It was another odd question. It wasn't as if she could decline.
"Don't you take your meals in the hall with the others?"
"I do, but you won't be able to. Not until you have enough training to prevent incidents like the one last night."
Walking with him, it was easy to forget that she had made an egg hatch at the dinner table.
