Page 176 of A Crown of Lies

But his time there would soon be over.

He eyed the line of senators curling around the assembly floor, their folded votes in hand, ready to deposit in the ballot box. It’d been a long few weeks, the most exhausting he’d ever known. No wonder Taratheil was so short tempered if he had to deal with politicians all the damn time.

But it had worked. They had the votes. Now, it was just a matter of waiting.

“Do you think it will work?” Ruith asked Aryn quietly. “Once we leave?”

Aryn crossed his arms. “I trust Niro to keep his word, if that’s what you mean.”

Ruith snorted. “He’d better.”

“There will be some lingering protests from some of the smaller clans,” Aryn said with a sigh as he glanced around the room. “Getting the Runecleavers on board will go a long way. With Emmanthe in her new position, and Isheda’s connections, I think they have as good a chance as any of holding D’thallanar together for the next six years. Then we have to do this all again.”

“Gods, I hope not.”

Ruith’s gaze fell on Niro at the center of the assembly floor, still shaking hands with those that had cast their vote for him. He looked just enough like Isheda Ruith could see it when he squinted. He wondered briefly how many other bastard born sons of important elves were out there in the city, in the world. Taratheil was old and had traveled the world. Perhaps he had a half brother or sister somewhere he didn’t know about. The thought gave him an uneasy feeling in his gut until he glanced over at Aryn.

Aryn was fussing over a wrinkle in Faelyn’s tunic, annoying him by trying to smooth it out while Faelyn tried to wriggle away. Will tugged on Aryn’s sleeve and pointed to a flag, naming all the colors.

Ruith smiled to himself. Once they got back to Brucia, he’d have all the family he needed right there.

The last ballot went into the box. Ruith and Aryn stood with the rest of the crowd observing the election, the hall silent as the adjudicator came to tally the votes.

“Pardon me, my lord Primarch.” Someone tapped Ruith on the shoulder.

He turned and found one of the messenger elves employed by the senate bowing.

“Yes, what is it?” Being called Primarch instantly irritated him, even if that was his title for now.

“A rider’s just arrived. From Greymark.” The messenger glanced up and then quickly back down. “I believe it’s one of your Crows.”

“Want me to handle it?” Aryn asked.

Ruith frowned. Why would one of the Crows ride all the way there? It had to be something urgent. “No, we’ll both go. Show them to my office.”

“Yes, Primarch.” The messenger bowed deeper and hurried away.

“You don’t want to stay and watch them tally the votes?” Aryn asked.

Ruith rolled his eyes. “I’d rather watch paint dry on a horse’s ass. We know who’s won. Let’s go.”

Eachofthetwelveclans, and the Yeutlands, had a suite of rooms in the Hall of Wisdom. The Primarch’s rooms were on the highest floor, eighteen stories up. Ruith wondered if they’d put them so far up to remind Primarchs they were mortal. Climbing eighteen stories to get to his office every day was certainly not the highlight of this trip.

Aryn raced up the stairs as if they were on flat ground. Ruith thought nothing could get Aryn winded, and he hated him for it.

“How long until we leave?” Aryn asked.

“You mean how many more nights will you get to spend at the Wolfheart estate?” Ruith grumbled. “Didn’t I tell you not to fuck my Primarch? You’re starting to get as bad as Ieduin now.”

“Don’t compare me to that rake,” Aryn growled. “And he wasn’t technically the Primarch when we got started. I make sure we’re not seen.”

Ruith tried not to let his huffing show. “As much as I’d like to go tomorrow, there’s the transition to consider.”

Aryn reached the next landing and paused. He leaned against the wall with a knowing smirk. “Need to stop and catch your breath, Crow?”

Ruith scowled at him. “Eighteen stories is foolish. Why would they design it this way?”

“They say Taratheil charged up all eighteen flights.” Aryn picked absently and dirt under his fingernails. “And then bedded your mother when he got to the top.”

---