Jonah’s expression grew serious. “You haven’t heard?”
“No, that’s why I’m asking,” she said, swatting his arm playfully, though the gesture fell flat in the tense air. “It’s chaos in here. Did one of the archive gremlins get into the ceremonial mead again?”
Jonah didn't smile. “They didn’t call you. Of course they wouldn’t have; they’ve been running around like panicked pixies all morning. Something happened last night. There was a magical surge in the Green Holdings, and it seems that everyone on the Land Trust was hit with some kind of magical whiplash."
The world seemed to narrow around his words, the background noise of the hall fading to a dull roar.
A mask of theatrical horror snapped into place on Goldie's features. She gasped, a hand flying to her chest in a gesture that was just a little too dramatic, a little too practiced. Her eyes, wide and panicked, flicked to Splice’s for a fraction of a second before darting back to Jonah.
“Oh, gods, that’s horrible,” Goldie breathed, the words sounding genuine to anyone who didn't know her. "Who? Do they know who it is?"
“Councilman Swale, and Councilwomen Mishra and Idris are all in comas,” Jonah said, voice low and grim. “Everyone else is in varying stages of sickness, though it doesn’t sound like it’s anything quite as serious. No one knows how unstable the whole situation is, though, so the Solstice planning session’s been hijacked for crisis management.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “I should’ve texted you, but I didn’t think of it?—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Goldie said, her voice a little too airy. “Sounds like you’ve all had your hands full.”
An awkward silence descended, thick with the enormity of the news and the strangeness of their meeting. Goldie, ever the gracious hostess even in a crisis, broke it with a smooth, practiced gesture.
"Oh, Jonah, where are my manners? This is my... associate, Splice. Splice, this is Jonah Pell. He’s on the solstice planning committee with me.”
Splice inclined his head coldly.
Jonah’s gaze flicked to Splice, and he extended a hand. "A pleasure."
Splice met the gesture, taking Jonah's hand in his own. He registered the firm grip of a hand that knew both physical work and the weight of a pen. He applied a neutral pressure in return.
"Likewise.” He held Jonah's gaze for a beat longer than was strictly necessary.
Jonah’s hand fell away, but his eyes remained on Splice, his gaze slow and appraising. It was the look of a man assessing a strange new piece on a familiar game board.
“You’re the Thornfather’s representative, aren't you?” Jonah asked. “I’m surprised they didn’t call you, since your boss is the primary stakeholder of the land now. How’s he doing, by the way?”
“Oh, he’s better than ever,” Splice replied, his own voice smooth and cool.
“That’s great,” Jonah said, though his tone didn’t match the words. “Were you planning on attending the Solstice meeting, then? A bit of a coincidence that you’re here.”
Splice met his gaze. “No,” he said, dropping his voice slightly to become more intimate. “I spent the night with Goldie. I decided to walk her here.”
Beside him, Goldie made a small, strangled sound, which she quickly disguised as a cough. Splice didn’t look at her, but he felt the wave of her mortification wash over him, and found it unexpectedly amusing.
“I see,” Jonah said, voice impressively even. “Well. Goldie’s a remarkable woman.”
“Yes,” Splice replied, solemn in a way the moment absolutely did not require.
“Well, I suppose I should—” Goldie began, her words a hurried tumble.
“Right. I need to get going,” Jonah said, already turning. Then he glanced back, his expression softening. “I’ll see you at the next meeting.”
He offered Goldie a small, conspiratorial wink that made Splice’s jaw tighten. He watched the man’s retreating back, everymuscle in his own body coiled and still. The urge to extend a vine and trip him was brief, but vivid.
Goldie smacked his arm, breaking the spell. “Was that really necessary?” she whispered, her voice a furious mix of exasperation and disbelief.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched the corner of Splice’s mouth. "Was that not true?"
Goldie’s mouth opened. Then closed. She made a small, frustrated sound in the back of her throat and pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes squeezed shut as if she could physically block out the conversation.
"I sort of hoped that we might have been able to have anactual conversationabout this whole thing before we started announcing it to the world,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by her hand.
