She considered her options for a moment, then closed the door, cleared her throat, and cautiously said, ‘Inga?’
Allie’s sister shot up from her makeshift bed with a speed that could rival the most vigilant of soldiers.
‘I have permission to— Oh. It’s you.’ She slumped back against the side of the bookcase, voice lowering a little as she grabbed an old waterbag off the floor and took a swig. ‘Apologies. I was expecting Gadyon to wake me before you arrived.’
Which suggested her supervisor knew about the clerk in his room. Thysandra considered that for a moment, then suggested, ‘Long night?’
‘Yes. Stayed up until sunrise to get all the paperwork in order.’ Inga took a few more sips of water, then rubbed her eyes and rose to her feet, folding the blanket with efficient ease. ‘And then I couldn’t go home anymore, of course.’
She did not sound annoyed. She sounded, if anything, wearily resigned to whatever had made her tuck herself in on this hard wooden floor instead.
‘Ah,’ Thysandra said, with more confidence than she felt. ‘Yes. Why, exactly?’
A frown. ‘Why what?’
‘Why couldn’t you go home anymore? Sunrise was hours ago – you’d have had plenty of time to—’
‘Oh. Too many fae around.’ Inga shrugged, dropping into one of the chairs at the desk without waiting for an invitation. ‘To avoid getting caught by anyone with unsavoury intentions, it’s generally best to sneak in before sunrise and out during dinnertime. If one of your mages could accompany me back to Rustvale after we’re done with this meeting, I would greatly appreciate it.’
Thysandra blinked.
To avoid gettingcaught?
A line of reasoning presented with such bland indifference. Was this something humans did all the time? Somethingallhumans did?
She was still figuring out how to ask without sounding like a fool when Nicanor slid into the room – his silvery hair braided, his damask coat a sensible black today. His smooth steps faltered only for the briefest moment as he caught sight of Inga by the desk; then, as if nothing had happened, he closed the doorbehind him, nodded at Thysandra by way of greeting, and wryly said, ‘Another morning of bold choices?’
He must already have heard about Naxi and the Labyrinth, then. Better not to discuss that right before Inga’s wary grey eyes.
Instead, she said, ‘This is Inga, Nicanor. Inga, meet my Lord Protector.’
Nicanor gave a small, nondescript smile as he sat down. Inga’s response was a long, scathing look from behind loose strands of her long blonde hair.
Promising start.
Thankfully, the door creaked open before the silence could stretch to the point of awkwardness, and a pile of parchment stumbled into the room, followed by the tall male carrying it. Gadyon’s face and messy brown hair were barely visible behind the fruits of his labour. His unmistakable limp was enough evidence of his identity, though; there weren’tthatmany fae with a clubfoot at the Crimson Court.
Really, he might be the only one. The education system of the court was hardly gentle on those with a disadvantage on the battlefield.
Inga darted from her chair to help the head of the archives unload his burden onto his desk, sorting the books and scrolls into piles with a swiftness that proved she hadn’t held her jobonlybecause of Agenor’s interference. Gadyon muttered a word of thanks, and another one as Nicanor rose to close the door once again; he fell into the chair beside Thysandra as if it was the first time he was sitting down in twenty-four hours.
‘Busy night,’ he clarified with a nervous nod at the piles of parchment. ‘Think we should have all the information you asked for, though.’
Nicanor plucked a sheet from the nearest pile on his way back to his chair, frost-blue eyes shooting over the lines as he sat down. ‘Ah, the food again?’
‘Unfortunately,’ Thysandra said sourly, ‘twenty ships full of grain have failed to materialise in our harbours overnight. So yes, the food again.’
He granted her that point with a quick grin. ‘Where do we stand, then?’
‘It’s rather bad,’ Gadyon muttered, rubbing his temple. ‘I had the numbers calculated by three people independently, as the High Lady asked, and all three clerks ended up with the same estimates: we have about two months of food left in the stores at the moment. Perhaps two and a half, if we limit the feasting. After that …’
‘We’re left without provisions in the middle of winter?’ Thysandra finished.
He grimaced. ‘Yes.’
‘How about the other fae isles?’ Nicanor asked, pursing his lips at the document in his hand. ‘Their harvests—’
‘—are far from sufficient,’ Gadyon interrupted bluntly. ‘Although, well, the main issue is that I’m not entirely sure which islands will end up pledging loyalty to the Crimson Court at all. The head of the department for tributes and taxation is dead, so administration is severely delayed on that side, and many houses seem to be biding their time before making a decision.’