Page 61 of A Frozen Pyre
“This summit will go poorly, Your Maj—Ceneth.”
“And?” Ceneth looked around. “The meeting is in five minutes. What would you have me do? You’re my advisor and my guard, Evander. Am I not safe in your company?”
“In Onain’s absence? I’d have you call Galena. You trust her gifts to neutralize those who might harm you, do you not?”
Ceneth frowned. “She’s not an advisor. Would I summon her and offend the monarchs from two of Gyrradin’s corners?”
“They don’t know of her powers,” he said. “They have no reason to believe her presence will be any different than having Onain beside you. They don’t know our customs, our people, our ways. To all outside eyes, Galena is another court advisor.”
“But with the woman there, I’d be calling a summit of humans,” Ceneth argued. “The monarchs, their escorts, the—”
“No one would use their abilities within a summit unless they meant harm. There is no need for magic at a meeting of the minds. It’s wise to have her at your side, Your Majesty…Ceneth.”
The king frowned. “Your skin won’t be impenetrable ifshe’s present,” Ceneth cautioned.
“I know. But it’s the right call.” Evander remained firm.
“Has Onain given her divine discernment on the wisdom of having a neutralizer present?”
Evander’s struggle to conceal his frustration was not subtle. He said, “Onain’s only position is that the meeting should be canceled. As I see it will not, please take my advice in her stead, and summon Galena.”
“Fine,” Ceneth conceded. “Call for her to attend. And do it quickly.”
Twenty-Two
The battle of wills was obnoxious, but Ophir had nothingbut time. To her right, Dwyn seemed agitated, which was unusual. She cast a sidelong glance at the siren, but Dwyn wouldn’t meet her eyes. Dwyn’s hummingbird gaze flitted from Zita to Harland to Eero and everyone in between as if they were little more than flowers in her pursuit of nectar. Under any other circumstances, Ophir would have asked what was wrong. On her left, Tyr’s tension was separate but equal. She wanted to find relief in his visible presence, but this constricting strain didn’t allow for small pleasures. Rather than glance amid the surrounding kingdoms’ ambassadors, Tyr’s jaw was set, teeth gritted against nothing in particular.
Ophir leaned forward and looked expectantly to the end of the table at her husband-to-be. Evander sat stoically on one side, and on the other sat a rather pretty winged woman Ophir had never seen. Between her father and her fiancé, she absently wondered how many men in her life would show up at important meetings with unfamiliar women before it became a problematic pattern.
Ceneth met her eyes for a moment. There was no hostility in his face as he regarded her, nor was there kindness. He was a true neutral. The king of Raascot exhaled and stood.His well-tailored clothes hug a bit too loosely on his frame. It was not the first time she’d noticed his weight loss. In a sick way, it was something she liked about him. Their shared grief held a purity that no one else could truly understand. She watched the way the collar of the shirt gaped slightly against what had been the thick column of his neck, the cuffs around his wrists showing slightly too much space around his once-broad forearms as he spoke.
“I’m honored that the rulers of Farehold and Tarkhany have graced my castle with their presence. It’s with a heavy heart that I draw our summit to its final day. Our three mighty kingdoms deserve a joyous union, but we must live within the world and its realities. Queen Zita, would you like the floor?”
Ceneth didn’t wait for an answer as he sank back into his chair. He remained on the far end of the table, Eero taking its opposite end, as he had before. Ophir sat nearest to the door, while the party from Tarkhany remained backlit against a row of arched windows. Perhaps under mundane circumstances, Ophir would have been grateful for the distraction to look out the window at the dark river beyond, picking apart the violet mountains, counting the stones on the distant cathedrals. These were not mundane circumstances.
The Queen of Tarkhany had once again blended the fashions of the desert with the warmth required of the north. Though her pale gown suggested she might have awoken in her desert palace, the snow-creature fur that ran down her arms worked overtime to bundle her against the climate.
Zita looked at Ceneth curiously before leaning in her chair toward King Eero. She remained seated as she said, “I don’t think I need the floor. Not only has Tarkhany done nothing wrong, but it shielded your daughter, Eero, and apparently kept the secret of the blood on your hands. I believe it’s your turn to state your case.”
Rather than meet her eyes, Eero stared into the middle of the table as if looking into the core of the earth. The room held its collective breath while everyone waited for Eeroto speak. Eventually, the King of Farehold said, “After days of deliberation, Farehold has come to the conclusion that Tarkhany’s request for accountability has long since passed any acceptable statute of limitations. Your quarrel was with my father, Queen Zita. It has nothing to do with me, and certainly nothing to do with my daughter or her heirs.”
Tension thrummed through the table.
“Disappointing but not surprising,” was all Zita said. After a beat, she said, “Perhaps the past is the past, but what of the present?”
“What of it?” Eero’s throat bobbed.
“Before we make plans for our future, I’d like a promise today, sealed in magic. I move for Tarkhany’s cities to be expunged from your maps.”
His brow furrowed.
“Speak to your future, Eero. How can I know that the past will not repeat itself, unless it is not an option? I move for one thousand years of silence. Tarkhany may come and go from your lands, but you are not to cross into the desert.”
“That’s absurd! That’s—”
“Please, King Eero,” Ceneth said through his teeth. “Is it ridiculous for her to request that her homelands not be stolen a second time? After all, the north has yet to forget that these snowcapped mountains were not our ancestral lands. Your people have a habit of…migrating.”
“That’s one offense too many,” Eero seethed.
