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Nodora frowned over Xandra’s shoulder. “Except that Skleros has fashioned a makeshift weapon of some sort. You can hear him throwing it at the wall over and over.”
Lio shook his head. “He must know that’s no use against the Guardian of Orthros’s wards.”
Xandra smirked as the door handle blazed red. “Come now, Master Skleros. Just be a little bit stupid. Try the door.”
“I think he’s just fending off boredom.” Kia bent an ear to Tychon’s chambers. “This one’s doinganotherset of push-ups.”
“Thank you all for keeping an eye on them for me,” Lio said.
“Our pleasure,” Kia replied.
Nodora put a hand on his arm. “Be careful, Lio.”
“I will,” he promised.
Lio lifted a hand and knocked on Chrysanthos’s door. “Dexion Chrysanthos, I am here to deliver an invitation.”
“Didn’t you get yours from Hypnos, Ambassador?” the mage called.
Having given fair warning, Lio waited a moment longer, then let himself into the room, passing through the familiar embrace of his relatives’ warding magic. His Trial sisters closed the door behind him.
Chrysanthos gave Lio a sardonic look. The mage lounged on his back on the perfectly made bed. He had burned the outline of a kings and mages board on the ceiling over his head and conjured little flames for tokens.
“Really, Dexion?” Lio raised his eyebrows. “Such a petty act of revenge upon my father’s architecture. I’m sure we could have provided you with paper and ink to keep your mind occupied.”
“You didn’t hear? The Stand thought I might write something of a magical nature or commit suicide with a quill. Mama Steward has swaddled me in her wards so I cannot come to harm, even from my own spells. For the sake of the prisoners, you know.”
“When you made their survival contingent upon yours, I am sure you were prepared for such consequences. I am aware she also cast the blood shackles on you to prevent you from harming others. Fortunately, this unpleasant experience could be over for you very soon. If you will come with me, the Tenebran embassy would like a word with you.”
“I am not interested in anything those bumpkins have to say. However, as I have nothing better to do, I will humor them.” Chrysanthos sighed and got to his feet, smoothing his robes.
“Bear in mind the blood shackles upon your person. Our stroll over to Rose House is not an opportunity for you to repeat the tantrum you threw before the Firstblood Circle.”
The Dexion retrieved his mantle from the back of his desk chair and arranged it upon his shoulders. “Rose House? Without me to discipline them, have that witless lot returned to eat out of Basilis’s hand?”
“They know the gentle, steady hand of good leadership from an abusive grasp.”
“They’ll regret biting the hand that’s been feeding them.”
Lio opened the door for him. The Dexion proceeded through the gauntlet of Lio’s Trial sisters as if making a formal procession down the aisle of the Sun Temple.
Lio shadowed the mage in his blind spot, his senses straining to the highest alertness.
They were halfway down the gallery when Chrysanthos halted in his tracks.
Lio held his magic at the ready. “Kindly remember my warnings.”
Chrysanthos made no sudden moves, only turned slowly to face Lio, but his aura was vicious. “There is nothing I despise more than a hypocrite. Your sanctimonious diplomacy sickens me. I want you to know that no matter what you say, no matter what you do, no matter how this Summit ends, I regard you only with contempt.”
“Peace does not require us to like one another, only to choose to act according to the common good, rather than our own passions.”
“Ambassador Deukalion, the bottomless jug of cloying principles. Nothing could be a more insidious veil with which to cover your ruthless promotion of Orthros’s interests.”
“I see I have graduated in your estimation from a wordy novice to a merciless politician. Our round in the gymnasium must have left an impression on you. I genuinely wish I could convince you both assessments of me are wrong, now that I have discovered my own assumptions about you to be just as misguided.”
“All you need to understand about me is that I will bring you to justice. It may not be this winter, but you are marked, and every mage from here to Corona knows you are mine.”
Lio could not allow this personal grudge Chrysanthos had developed during the Summit to stand in the way now. The hostages’ lives were at stake. Lio would not let them die because of Chrysanthos’s petty thirst for revenge for an embarrassment in the fighting ring. “I urge you to set aside your desire to settle matters between us, at least for tonight. Rather, look to your own affairs. Your future is in the Tenebrans’ hands. I suggest we do not keep them waiting.”
