We entered the small room, a den decorated with chairs scattered around a hearth that flickered with a weak fire, and a single gray table dominating the opposite side of the room. No finery. Not even a pitcher of water to offer guests.
Rhistel scoffed. “This is where he receives the King of Winter and his heir?”
“Do not let King Tyra’s games get to your head, son,” Magnus replied, and I didn’t miss the emphasis he put on his last word as he cut me a sharp glance.
Rhistel was his son. I was not. As if I cared any longer.
“We are here for soldiers, and will endure small slights to get them,” Magnus continued.
He’d never rolled over and accepted insults before, but then again, he hadn’t needed to ally with a High King of Mages before, just other lords within our own kingdom. Fae who understood our ways and shared our culture. King Tyra was a different matter.
Rhistel poked his head out the door. “Have someone fetch wine.”
That demand made, Magnus and my brother sank into armchairs near the fire, and the king motioned for Érebo to take the seat across from him. Once they settled, Rhistel caught my eye.
“Stand behind me, watchdog. Thantrel, you’re behind our shadowy friend.”
The hierarchy would be on display without anyone having to say a word to the Mage High King. The arrangement told me something else too. They planned to tell King Tyra who Érebo was. Otherwise, he’d be standing as well.
The fire crackled and popped, flushing the room with heat that the stone walls seemed to absorb right away. This damp place was not as cold as Winter’s Realm, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. My gaze drifted to the stark table, large enough for twenty males my size to stand around.
“Bland thing, isn’t it?” Rhistel drawled and tilted his head back to look at me. “This king has no style.”
I did not answer. Could not.
A satisfied smile curled Rhistel’s lips. “This quiet suits someone with so few original thoughts in their head.”
“He very well may need to talk about strategy.” Magnus did not bother to look at me. “Tyra will likely want the Warrior Bear’s thoughts on the war—how we plan to win it.”
“I will release him and guide him when the time is right,” Rhistel muttered.
Minutes passed. The wine and five goblets arrived, only for Rhistel to pointedly send back two. The fire continued to blaze, the wood barely burning down, hinting at its enchanted nature. With each second the king did not appear, Rhistel’s jaw tightened a touch more.
If nothing else gave me pleasure, that did.
Rhistel’s fingers had curled around the arms of his chair and whitened when the door finally opened. Of all the magical orders in Isila, mages looked the most like humans. Though one look at the Mage King, and you would know that he wasn’t human at all.
With hair as black as a raven’s wing and unlined, pale skin, one would think him a young male. A new king. But High King Tyra had to be at least two hundred turns old, and he’d ruled since his twenty-first nameday. A long time to be in the sunlight. A long time for so few to try to take what was his. Not that I blamed the mages for not challenging the king. The few who had tried were no longer walking the realm. Their deaths were said to have been as legendary as they were horrific.
“King Tyra.” Magnus rose and inclined his head. “I thank you for seeing us today.”
The High King of Mages hovered on the threshold of the room. He gave an equal nod to the King of Winter and looked to Rhistel. My brother bowed, and a voice in my head instructed me to do the same. Against my will, my spine bent.
“What brings you to my land, King Magnus?” The mage entered the room alone, and the door slammed shut behind him, but not before he sent a pulse of magic through the room. A warning. He was not defenseless, no matter if he kept his soldiers outside. King Tyra sat in the chair next to the one Érebo had claimed.
Rise,Rhistel commanded.Stand at attention.
I did as he said and cast a glance at Thantrel as he rose too. My half-brother’s eyes were not clouded over, but I had a feeling he wasn’t as aware as me. He simply seemed so relaxed.Toorelaxed.
“A rebellion is rising in Winter’s Realm,” Magnus answered. “Two Falk princesses are back from the dead.”
King Tyra’s eyebrows arched. “I might have heard something of it.”
From a mage living in a noble household, no doubt. The practice of keeping representatives from other magical orders living and working in royal or noble households was not so common in Winter’s Realm. However, some ancient houses clung to the old ways when it came to mages. After all, their magical order was useful, unlike vampires, who were usually only admitted for diplomacy reasons.
Magnus nodded, as if he’d assumed as much. “They’re powerful females. As strong as their father.”
The High Mage King leaned back in his chair. “And why are you here telling me this?”
