Delwin inclined his head with the measured composure of a trained soldier, his voice pleasantly pragmatic as he said, ‘Let us hope that will be mutual, Your Majesty.’
Tared bit down a grin behind him.
Which should have annoyed her, probably – but damn it all, coming from a magic-less human standing in the middle of the Crimson Court, she couldn’t help but appreciate the stone-faced gall of that reply. The only mortal to attend their gathering, perhaps, but clearly the White City’s consul was not a man to underestimate.
Their third companion came forward last, a more familiar face this time. Black hair braided into an intricate crown, pale features marred by two grisly scars – Nenkhet Bakarim, one of the first vampires to have openly joined the Alliance an eternity ago. Her presence was unannounced but unsurprising. It had been centuries since Bakaru himself had left the stronghold of Gar Temen; the true shock would have been the King of Kings attending this meeting.
Nenkhet’s smile seemed solely intended to display her razor-sharp canines. There certainly wasn’t any joy or fondness in it as she said, ‘Hello, Thysandra.’
Oh, gods.
This was a bad moment to realise that they hadn’t seen each other since the Mother had forced this same vampire to kneel at her feet, then laughed as she bound her magic – and much, much worse, that Thysandra hadassistedher with the effort.
‘Good morning,’ she ground out all the same, because there were times and places to talk about regret and retribution, and this wasn’t one of them. ‘Take a seat, if you like.’
Nenkhet ignored that suggestion without even a sign of having heard it, standing by the side of the semicircle of benches with her head held high and her arms crossed over the leather-and-lace bodice of her dress. Tared similarly stayed on his feet, although he allowed himself to lean against the man-high pedestal beside him. Only Delwin accepted the invitation. It wasn’t until he sat down and his trousers shifted that Thysandra realised he was wearing a wooden leg – a mark of the recent battle, no doubt.
An awkward silence loomed. Naxi, thankfully, filled it by chattering to Tared about other friends and how she was coming to visit them sometime soon.
Perhaps two minutes went by before the air flickered and turned into living matter again – this time right next to the benches, which meant this newly arrived alf female must have visited the gallery before. Thysandra did not know her name. Shedidknow the white-haired, stiff-backed phoenix female who’d been faded along with the alf – Lady Yndrusillitha, second eldest of Phurys, here on behalf of the just-reborn Lord Khailan and the rest of their council.
Yndrusillitha’s nod at Thysandra was curt and sharp. Her nod at Tared, surprisingly, was even curter and even sharper, and the smile the alf returned could have cut through solid steel – some history there, clearly, but Thysandra wasn’t given the time to speculate. Before she could even greet her guest, a third alf faded into the hall.
This one didn’t arrivequietly.
‘Morning, everyone!’ With the impressive amount of bandaging around his blond head, it might have been hard to recognise the newcomer – but that hot-blooded voice did the work instead. Last time Thysandra had heard it, its owner had been cheerfully hewing his way towards her on a battlefield. ‘Bit early for important meetings, isn’t it? Good thing I didn’t go to sleep last night, because I’d never have woken up in time for—’
‘Edored,’ Tared interrupted, his voice calm, the corners of his lips trembling.
‘What?’ The alf whipped around, almost knocking over the nymph queen he’d brought with him – Helenka of Tolya, who seemed equally torn between unwilling laughter and heartfelt exasperation. ‘Oh, right. Diplomacy. Although it’s pretty early for diplomacy, too, isn’t it? And— Oh, hello Naxi! Been a while!’
The gloomy, dignified atmosphere had somehow gone up in smoke. Delwin’s shoulders were shaking. Yndrusillitha, who had sat down two benches to the consul’s right, looked as if she was desperately trying to develop fading powers herself, and Helenka murmured something that sounded suspiciously similar tomadmanas she sank down on a low pedestal in her gauzy green dress.
None of them looked worried in the least, though.
And even Naxi – clever, vigilant Naxi, whose demon senses would not let a single flare of annoyance go unnoticed – beamed back at Edored without any sign of reserve or caution. As if this was perfectly acceptable behaviour for a peace-or-war meeting. As if there wasn’t any need for mitigating measures at all, before she—
Well, Thysandra admittedly wasn’t quite sure what she might do. She was hardly in a position to cause a stir and leave, was she?
But this wasn’t the Alliance as she’d known it during the war at all – disciplined, competent, a united front that had driven the Mother to rage more than once. They had sounded so perfectly businesslike in that single, unanimous letter, too. So if they were at all interested in developing decent trade relations with her, then what in the world were they doing now – letting loose the alvish equivalent of an overly excited watchdog in this diplomatic equivalent of a porcelain cabinet?
‘… another time,’ the alf female who had brought Yndrusillitha with her was saying – her voice oddly colourless, her smile too faint to reach her pale blue eyes. ‘I think they might prefer for the two of us to get out of here, Edored.’
‘I was already leaving,’ Edored sputtered, looking genuinely offended that she hadn’t yet noticed his solemn dedication to his imminent departure. ‘You all can’t accuse me of … of un-diplomacy, you know. Good luck, Nen! You’ll do great!’
Nenkhet gave him a look Thysandra could only describe as a fond stare of death and muttered, ‘Thanks, arsehole.’
‘Hey!’ Edored protested. ‘I’m being supportive! That’s not—’
They would never find out what it wasn’t. The other alf female had unceremoniously grabbed his sleeve and faded him out of the gallery, leaving nothing but a slightly maniacal echo behind between the pillars and the pedestals.
Naxi was giggling uncontrollably into her sleeve.
‘Apologies,’ Tared said with a wry grin, although whether the excuse was aimed at Helenka or the company at large, Thysandra wasn’t sure. He didn’t sound particularly apologetic either way. ‘Needed to quickly find someone who would keep his mouth shut to the other houses. Let’s talk about—’
Yndrusillitha made a sound that could have been a scoff, if she had considered scoffing a proper activity for a lady. ‘Heis supposed to keep his mouth shut?’
What in the world?