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‘Should I ask Doralis to take over whatever task you were working on?’ I said, trying to sound as tactful as possible.
‘Oh.’ Agenor gave the impression he'd forgotten about the existence of the tasks too, his gaze fixed on the fragile figure of my mother. She did not speak, waiting with what I suspected was nervousness rather than some cruel test of his feelings. ‘Yes. Please. That would be …’ He faltered, visibly trying to regain track of his sentence. ‘Very helpful. Thanks, Em.’
‘I’ll do that, then,’ I said, stepping back with a quick smile of encouragement at Rosalind. She looked like she might need it. ‘Anything else I can do?’
‘No. No, I think we will be…’ Only then did he lift his gaze from my mother for a fraction of a second, meeting my eyes with a look that was both an apology and a cry for help. ‘We’ll be just fine?’
Zera help me.
They were grown adults, I told myself as I reluctantly started turning away from them. They could probably sort this out themselves, and no matter how much I felt like interfering, it likely wouldn't help anyone much if I stepped in and physically smashed their heads together like I very much felt like doing.
‘See you later, then,’ I said instead.
They were already staring at each other again. Neither of them answered; really, I suspected neither of them had heard me at all.
I walked. Behind me, I heard Rosalind say, ‘Shall I come in, then?’
Agenor’s answer was indistinguishable. She did not speak again. But when I glanced over my shoulder a few seconds later, the tent cloth had been folded shut and both of my parents were gone.
Chapter 26
I found the centralcommand tent without having to ask a single person: it was the tallest structure in all the camp, eye-catching with its white and azure stripes and a golden banner flying from its highest point. A tent one might find in a storybook illustration. A tent, no doubt, that would fill the recruits from the White City with fiery, valiant feelings, the pleasant sensation of being a hero and having the world treat you as one.
I swallowed something bitter as I ducked through the opening.
The tent looked even bigger from the inside, lit by sunlight filtering in and a single alf light hovering just below the ceiling. A square table occupied most of the available space, the surface covered in maps of the archipelago and the Crimson Court; a pileof banners in various colours had been chucked into one corner, while a messy trunk full of writing materials stood in another.
On the farthest side of the tent, Doralis and Beyla stood discussing something that looked like a rather bedraggled sketch in hushed tones. Next to them, Lyn was sitting cross-legged on the table, furiously browsing a leather-bound atlas and drawing pencil lines on yet another map before her.
‘Morning?’ I said, and only then did they collectively look up to notice me.
‘Em!’ Lyn veered off the table, brightening abruptly – genuine relief, and yet I couldn’t help but notice that she looked much too pale beneath her freckles. ‘Oh, thank the gods you’re back. How was your visit? Did you have any success with the consuls?’
‘Not so much with the consuls,’ I admitted. ‘The people themselves seem to have liked me better, though. We accidentally convinced about two thousand of them to come with us, so the camp may need to …’
Next to Lyn, Doralis let out a choked sound. ‘Two thousand?’
‘Yes.’ I grimaced. ‘It wasn’t entirely planned.’
‘Gods have mercy,’ she muttered, dropping her notes onto the table and hurrying towards the tent exit, her violet wings shivering with agitation. ‘We’re going to need more fireplaces and latrines, in that case. Please tell me some of them have brought their own tents – I have no idea where we’d get a thousand tents on such short notice, even if—’
‘Most of them had bags,’ I hurriedly cut in. ‘I think at least some people must have had the bright idea to bring their own equipment.’
She let out a muffled curse under her breath and strode out, vanishing around the corner before any of us could have gotten in another word. Her voice rose outside a few moments later, issuing commands to whatever fae or humans she encountered.
Lyn and Beyla exchanged the swiftest glance of doubt –should we help out?that look said – then seemed to decide simultaneously that Doralis would be more than equipped to deal with the challenge on her own. Beyla picked up her notes again. Lyn sent me another smile and said, in a voice that tried just too hard to appear cheerful, ‘Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?’
Wasn’t it?
The answer ought to have been positive, presumably … but that stubborn attempt at optimism on her pale face was the fastest antidote to any sense of triumph. So were the lines of worry around Beyla’s eyes, turning her usual reserved expression into the look of a female bracing herself for the worst.
‘Did anything happen?’ I slowly asked, and it felt as if my mind finally followed my body out the gates of the White City with that lethal little question, out of that eerily peaceful dream and back into the deadly reality of the rest of the world. Three days without news. Three days in which half the archipelago may have burned without me knowing – good gods, how had I ever believed I would return from my trip and find the world utterly unchanged?
Lyn’s smile twisted into an apology as she deflated a few inches. ‘Not yet.’
‘But?’
‘I faded to the Crimson Court this morning and managed to sneak a few miles through Faewood,’ Beyla quietly said. ‘Got quite close to the harbour. A couple of fae discovered me there and left me no choice but to fade out again, but it looks like the Mother is finally preparing her warships. They’ll be ready to sail out before the end of the day, from the glimpses I caught.’
