Page 87 of Magic Forsaken

Lunch endedup being far more enjoyable than I’d feared. We had barbecue instead of salad, and no one asked personal questions, as if they knew I might hesitate to answer. Instead, Kira and Marilee both shared a bit of their own stories—including how Kira had been stolen from the dragons, was raised as a human, and eventually forged a new family in Oklahoma City. Turned out, Marilee was a part of that new family—a daughter of the naiad royal line who had ended up working for Faris in an effort to establish her own identity.

They were so frank and welcoming, I ended up feeling almost sorry when I realized I was running late and had to return to the hostel to dress for the reception.

My task for the evening was to hover on the edges of the proceedings and observe, while waiting for orders like a proper assistant. To fit that role, I chose to wear the nicest of my new dark pants and jackets, with a crisp, white, collared shirt beneath. There would be other outsiders in attendance, such as the caterers, wait staff, and possibly the spouses or mates of some of the delegates, so my uniform wouldn’t stand out as unusual. And Callum had assured me that several of the other delegates would have brought personal protection disguised as something else, so I wouldn’t be the only one.

Thanks to my late lunch, by the time I returned to The Assemblage, the atmosphere surrounding the building was already sharp with anticipation as the delegates began to arrive. There was no red carpet like humans would have had, but there was a black one from the street to the front door, lined with ropes and lit by glittering lanterns, with a handful of curious human reporters on hand to snap pictures.

One by one, cars and SUVs with dark tinted windows pulled up to the curb to deliver their important passengers, all of whom I’d been thoroughly briefed on during the preceding week—both their identities and the level of threat each one was likely to present.

Talia, of course, required no introduction. She arrived in a silver Audi, wearing a white pantsuit that emphasized her height and imposing bearing. She also very pointedly refused to look at me as she seemed to float her way into the building, accompanied by the rest of the elemental delegates.

Each delegation consisted of five people, which, for the elementals, included their queen, plus one representative from each element. Most dangerous of the lot, according to Callum, was Fiona—air elemental and one of the last few Idrians on earth capable of portal magic. This ability meant she’d been protectedand indulged for most of her life, which had left her both spoiled and petulant.

Fiona was short and curvy, with golden blonde hair and a sun-kissed tan, and she stepped out of the Audi on Talia’s heels before entering the building on the arm of Xander, the fire elemental—a tall, jaw-droppingly gorgeous man with brown skin, wavy dark hair with threads of gray, and a devastating smile. He was one of the first Idrians born on Earth, and somehow radiated both gravitas and effortless charm.

Directly behind them were Jasper and Isis—the earth and water representatives. They appeared middle-aged and unremarkable, but Heather had assured me the pair possessed a great deal of power, plus a wealth of experience in navigating tricky political situations. Both were seneschals—court-appointed enforcers responsible for policing interactions between Idrians and humans—and were therefore theoretically well-versed in human law and behavior.

While the elemental delegation entered the building together and seemed to move as a unit, the wildkin arrived separately over the course of an hour—a smirking goblin with silver braids, an older troll woman dressed in half armor, a glowing pixie wearing a flower crown on his close cropped bronze hair, and Marilee, her nearly transparent hair sparkling as it reflected the glow of the lanterns. Leith arrived last and least ostentatiously, though there was no mistaking the wary attention he drew from the other attendees.

None of the wildkin wore glamour, I noted, unlike the fae delegates, who pulled up in a single vehicle, all wearing elegant, dark tunics and tall boots—rather like escapees from a fantasy convention. Four were glamoured into the form of unnaturally beautiful humans—one man and three women—and then there was Rath, whose dark skin and short silver hair made a striking picture against the midnight fabric of his high-collared jacket.

The shapeshifters arrived at the same time, but in separate cars, and seemed both stiff and wary of each other. Joining Callum were a wolf, a lion, a gryphon, and a bear. The bear was a tiny black woman with short hair, while the gryphon was nearly six feet tall and a statuesque blonde with wintery pale skin. Bears were more solitary, even as shifters, so Yolande had been elected solely for the purpose of the Symposium. Niadre, the gryphon, was another seneschal and the sister of their king, who hadn’t left the gryphon enclave in over twenty years. The wolf—Luis—was a stocky man of average height, with brown skin and long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail. The lion was possibly the oldest delegate—a tall, rangy, white man with gray hair and a long beard, who was dressed in suspenders and a bow tie. Paul was his name, and no one actually knew how old he was, only that he’d come through the portals from Idria with his entire family and set up what amounted to a shifter kingdom in the woods of West Virginia.

Once the last of the attendees had entered the building, I abandoned my post outside and slipped through the foyer into the main reception hall, taking up a position along the east wall that allowed me to keep the entire room in my field of vision.

I was too short to see over the heads of the closest delegates, but the room was not overly large, and thankfully the atmosphere so far was relatively quiet, if tense. Conversations seemed muted, and I could sense the different delegations watching one another with wary caution.

From everything I’d heard, this might be the first time the four courts had assembled this way since setting foot on Earth as refugees. Symposiums had traditionally been held every five years in Idria, but they had often been marked by violence and battles for dominance. Even now, I noted that the members of each court clustered together, not necessarily trusting one another, but trusting the other delegations even less.

Did Callum’s efforts even stand a chance, if none of the different groups could manage to stop glaring long enough to work together?

After what seemed an uncomfortably long wait, the doors from the foyer opened one last time to admit the final two delegates—Faris Lansgrave and Callum-ro-Deverin.

The earth elemental barreled through the doorway like a landslide moving downhill—implacable, unstoppable, and without even a momentary hesitation. He was wearing—quite surprisingly—a suit, though the top button of his white shirt was undone and featured no tie. He’d even trimmed his beard and styled his hair for the occasion, but still managed to look more like a bear than the actual bear shifter.

And Callum… Oh, Callum. His suit was charcoal gray, and he’d also chosen to forego the tie. His hair was tamed into just barely wavy perfection, and his eyes flashed as he strode into the room like the apex predator he was.

Heads turned. Conversations paused. For a moment, no one seemed to know where to look, and I could almost sense the questions and the calculations—which of these two was actually the more dominant, and would there be any conflict while they determined the answer?

“Welcome, everyone.” The silence made it a simple matter for Callum’s greeting to be heard in all corners of the room. “Thank you all for coming.”

He seemed tense, and I wondered just how much experience he had with making speeches. He didn’t seem like the sort of person to enjoy them, or to feel comfortable under the weight of that many eyes.

“This seems the appropriate moment to address what many of us have been reluctant to acknowledge publicly over the years—the legitimacy and sovereign rights of the Shadow Court, as ruled and represented by Faris Lansgrave.”

No lead up, no squirrelly political language—he just threw it out there.

“Please make a point of acknowledging him as our host, and of respecting the territory on which we stand. The laws of this court dictate that all races will be treated equally, and no individual residing within the boundaries of the city will be considered members of their hereditary court for the purposes of any form of enforcement.”

In other words, they stood on neutral ground, and Faris made the rules.

“Everyone in this room has sworn to uphold the peace of this Symposium.” Callum paused his speech long enough to make eye contact with most of the heavy hitters in the room. “However, I doubt very many of you believe it will actually remain peaceful. Just know that anyone who violates that peace will be dealt with swiftly and severely, and may or may not be returned to their court—in whatever pieces we are still able to find.”

Well then. Apparently, dragon politics were considerably more violent and lacking in subtlety than the human version.

At that point, he turned to address the earth elemental at his shoulder. “Faris, do you have anything to add?”

“Welcome to my city,” Faris rumbled, scanning the crowd with what was, for Faris, a fairly neutral expression. “I agreed to host you all because I believe this cause is vitally important. Also, I figured the lot of you likely weren’t capable of meeting anywhere else without arguing like a bunch of cranky toddlers.” His brows lowered ominously, and his voice turned to a rasping, subterranean growl. “Don’t make me regret it.”

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