Page 58 of A Court of Ash and Midnight
And then someone is clinking their fork against a goblet at the far end of the table. The head tournament councilwoman, who is sitting at the head. She stands.
“We are here to celebrate the conclusion of the first challenge of the Erys Lumena tournament,” she calls. “And also, to celebrate the victory of House Talavara, who are the winners of the first challenge.”
She raises her glass of wine. “To the victors!”
Everyone around the table lifts their glasses, some with more grace than others, who scowl and shoot foul gazes about the tent, like Toryn’s family. Daemon’s family also, who refuse to even lift their glasses at all. I wonder why they came if they weren’t going to participate?
“As a reminder,” the councilwoman continues, “It is strictly forbidden for challenges to be issued during the dinner. This is a safe sanctuary for all champions.”
She sits back down, and the buzz of conversation picks up again around the table.
“House Talavara,” Cillian says. “Nowthat’sinteresting.”
“How so?” Julian asks, brows raised.
“Well, everyone here falls into two categories.” Cillian leans back in his chair and takes a sip of sparkling wine. “Those who are trying to keep the Queen on the throne, and those who are not.”
“So, you think some of the other houses are going to capitalize on the tournament and make a bid for the throne, even if they didn’t call the challenge?” I ask.
“Absolutely. At this point, anything goes. House Harkyn has placed their neck on the chopping block, but any of the other houses can step in now and take the prize.” Cillian’s gaze travels across the table to Daemon and his relatives, not bothering to keep his tone down.
I stiffen, but my cousin smiles lazily, a cat with a mouse.
Although this mouse may be a bit bigger than he bargained for.
“Humans are always on the chopping block,” the woman in black says with a cold smile. “We are more than happy to sacrifice you for our own gains. It’s quite…amusingthat you thought you had any chance whatsoever in such a tournament. I do hope you’ve made your final arrangements, champions.” She sneers the last word, her gaze lingering on mine with a burn like ice.
“I think I speak for my cousin when I say that neither of us are out for glory, or to steal any thrones,” Cillian says, seemingly unperturbed. “Alas, we are but pawns in a greater game.”
“Why doesn’t it surprise me that the champions of House Harkyn have such lackluster goals or loyalty?” She shoots us a disdainful look. “You don’t even deserve death at the hands of a fae. If I had my way, none of you would even be allowed to participate in the tournament. It’s disgraceful.”
“Well, clearly you don’t have your way,” I say.
The fae woman’s eyes widen but I hold her gaze, looking her dead on. Next to her, I see Daemon tense up, a muscle in the corner of his jaw ticking.
“House Harkyn will not live to see the end of this tournament,” the woman hisses. “Your insolence in summoning the Court of Onyx here, in summoning all the fae houses here, in daring to think you can challenge the throne, it willnotgo unpunished.”
Court of Onyx? Was that where Daemon had grown up?
She rises from the table, throwing her cloth napkin down as if throwing a gauntlet, and strides off, out of the tent and into the night. The older man shoots us a threatening look and follows. Daemon’s eyes meet mine, and I feel like he’s trying to say something wordlessly, but it moves across his face too quickly to read. Then, he, too, rises and walks off. I hesitate for several moments and then I get up and follow him.
“Um… cousin…” Cillian calls, but I ignore him.
I catch up to Daemon a few dozen paces beyond the tent. His family is nowhere to be seen, as if swallowed by the night. When I reach him, he turns and spins, and I have to stop quickly to keep from running into him. His face is a storm of emotion, and I almost regret my decision.
“You cannot be here,” he growls.
“I know we’re representing our houses, competing against each other, but that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me… you’re acting like we’re strangers,” I gasp.
“Aren’t we, though?” His green eyes burn into mine. “How much do you really know about me, Embyr? You don’t know anything about my life. About where I came from. AboutwhoI am.”
His words sting like the slash of a blade, and suddenly I’m not scared, or sad, I’m angry. “I know who you are, Daemon. I may not know about your past, but I know that you arenotyour family. You are not like those awful people.”
He steps closer to me, his chest brushing into mine, his face inches away. “Listen to me very carefully. We areenemies. We’re not at Shadow’s Keep anymore. Things are not the same. You need to understand that.”
“I don’t think you believe that,” I say, but my voice falters. Because hisdidn’t.
“Believe what you want. And remember… the dinner is a safe sanctuary for champions. Out here?” He waves his hands, gesturing at the open space, the darkness, all around us. “Out here, it is not.”
