Page 14 of Tall Dark and Evil

He is perceptive.

“Don’t mind her, she’s grumpy in the morning.” Reiks shrugs. “The caffeine should kick in soon.”

My head snaps to him. He shouldn’t know anything about my character at all. We’ve spent a total of half an hour in each other’s presence. Yet he states it with absolute certainty.

“It’s not morning,” I mutter. “It’s the middle of the night.”I’d be surprised if the fifth hour has struck.

Reiks takes the plater with freshly baked, buttery delicacies from the coffee table right in front of the hearth and holds it up to me. “Have a cookie, Alis.”

I sneer, but I do take a cookie, more and more disconcerted.

Hemusthave asked about me. I don’t know how that makes me feel.

Reiks passes the platter to the only other woman in the room, sitting at his right. She shares a loveseat with the heir of Dorath.

Selia Aevar is a princess of Vanemir. I’ve known her since we were children, though we aren’t close. She’s one of Marline’s few friends.The Frejr and the Aevar are bound by blood through our matriarch’s husband, so I suppose she’s a cousin of sorts.

She’s a short woman with silver-blonde hair, built for war and sin. Her lithe muscles are on display in her form-fitting, shiny dragonscale pants. She wears them with a long violet dress open to the navel, dipping low on her small breasts. Her chest’s flatter than mine, but she makes it work with sheer confidence. At her throat, there’s a necklace of iron mail.

The man at her side is younger than the rest of us by a few years—somewhere around Maelys’s age, I think. Tanned and easy to look at, he smiles a lot. It doesn’t reach his deep amethyst eyes, though.

Dorath is a strange kingdom. Its deserts take up more than eighty percent of the land, yet they thrive as well as Flaur. Where Flaur uses its fertile lands and its inhabitants’ knack for crafting pretty, useless things, and writing poetry, Dorath’s wealth comes from the strength of its guilds—the notorious merchants’ guild is a band of thieves and smugglers, and the assassin’s guild.

If rumors are to be believed, Dorath’s true ruler is the master of the assassin’s guild. Even the king bows to the Shadow Assassin.

I don’t know much of Dorath, but I’ve always been curious. Daria rarely speaks about her homeland. I might visit, one day.

Every man in the chamber is either a crowned monarch or about to become one. Selia, while not in line for a throne, has her older sister’s ear. She’ll be the blade asserting the queen of Vanemir’s will in the dark.

“Since when do you need someone to take notes for you, Nath?” the Devar king asks, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “Getting forgetful in your old age?”

A joke.

I did not expect a joke from that cold man who stands as far apart from us as he can. There’s still plenty of room around the coffee table. He could take one of the three silver armchairs, or the second sofa.

I wonder whether the warmth of the fire actually bothers him. They’re as secretive about the nature of their power as the rest of us, but there must be a reason the Devars have chosen to settle in the coldest lands of Xhera.

“I don’t know, Zale, maybe I got forgetful around the same time as when you lost the top place in every class to a common girl.” Reiks smirks. There’s no trace of the calculated man I met earlier this week. He looks younger. A boy having fun.

The Devar King—Zale—flips him off and the rest of the room chuckles.

I get it then.

This isn’t a strategy meeting between the leaders of the realm. These five are…friends.

I’ll be damned.

CHAPTERSEVEN

THE MASKS

Who would have thought that the future leaders of the world aren’t at each other’s throats? Unlike the rest of us at Five, they seem to get along just fine.

First, I wonder why they meet out of the public eye, so clandestinely. I’ve certainly never seen them together before, and Iwouldhave noticed. Then I think what it would have meant if they’d been seen talking. The world would have stopped to stare, and listen, and speculate. It would have been a political event, a statement.

“A common girl beat you?” I can’t help asking.

The king’s ice-cold blue eyes fix on me and I gulp, immediately regretting my question. Got it. Stay silent. I’m most definitelynotinducted into the royal pride.

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