Page 42 of Ash and Feather

“Nothing is wrong,” I told her. She didn’t look completely reassured, so I added, “Except that seeing you in that dress makes me want to skip this meeting and pull you back into bed.”

She smiled a bit at this—that soft, barely-there smile that always drew me to her side without fail. I briefly forgot about the battles waiting for us as I went to her and kissed her forehead, and she curled against my chest with a sigh.

After she stepped away, I left to make myself more presentable as she had done, returning to the bedroom after several minutes to find her standing by the window, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Is everything all right?”

She startled at my voice. “Yes. I just thought I saw some sort of shadowy…something.” She pressed closer to the window. “A creature of some kind, maybe. One I’ve caught glimpses of a few times over these past weeks, but never long enough to actually make out what it is.”

I started toward the window as well, but froze as a possible explanation occurred to me.

Thiscreature…I wanted to be wrong about what it was, so I hesitated to give my opinion on the matter—and she waved a dismissive hand before I could speak, anyway.

“Never mind,” she said quickly. “It’s probably just a trick of my tired mind. And either way, it’s not as important as the council awaiting us, is it?”

She turned to face me, Moth dangling from her arms. The griffin was nibbling the edges of her clothing and swatting at loose tendrils of her hair, but she was paying him little mind; her eyes were on the door that led downstairs.

I walked over to pry Moth from her arms just as he got his beak around the tip of one of her braids, starting to unravel it in earnest. I dropped him unceremoniously to the floor—ignoring the hiss he gave before catching himself in mid-air, remembering his wings, and streaking toward the open window.

Looking back to Karys, I frowned. “You seem worried about that council.”

She didn’t disagree, but her expression hardened as though determined not to show any more of that worry. “Whatever this council decides to do about the impending war in the mortal realm,” she said, “I want to be a part of it.”

I nodded, though her tone made me uneasy. She sounded as though she’d spent the night plotting.

Knowing her, she likely had.

“And if we agree that my sister is at the center of whatever scheme the elves are preparing,” she pressed, “then I want to be the one to find her. To confront her.”

“…If it comes to that.”

“I don’t see how it won’t.”

Truthfully, I didn’t, either.

I just didn’t want to think about it.

I took her hand, absently tracing her skin with my thumb. “Today we should focus on the bigger picture, I believe. At least for this meeting.”

“Iamfocused on it. My sister just happens to be a part of that bigger picture.”

“I don’t disagree. But I think it would be wise not to draw attention to your complicated relationship with her. The other Marr will see it as weakness and a potential temptation for betrayal—as evidence that you’re clinging to your old loyalties and life.”

She pulled her hand from mine. I could sense the frustration simmering inside her—it made her magic burn hotter, made it reach for mine. I fought the temptation to reach back. It wouldn’t do us any favors, combining and unleashing our fire before we’d even made it out of the bedroom.

“We can discuss the matter of your sister more fully amongst ourselves later,” I offered, attempting to keep the peace. “It will be safer…and probably more productive than any conversation we might have with the others about her.”

She looked unsatisfied by this answer. We were interrupted, however, before I could come up with anything more to say; both of us sensed more deities appearing somewhere in the palace below us.

It felt as if everyone was now here.

“Come on,” I said, “we shouldn’t keep them waiting.” I offered her my arm.

She took it without a word, avoiding my gaze as we left the room.

I didn’t havemuch experience with wartime councils and the like from when I was a human prince—I’d been young, and not as interested in conquest and bloodshed as my father and older brother would have liked me to be—but I’d come to theconclusion that the gods played at war in much the same way that so many mortal leaders did.

They sat in their comfortable chairs, eating and drinking, pushing plans around as though it were a game with clear-cut winners and losers, with wooden pawns instead of living, breathing beings.

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