There are too many moving pieces at play here. It corrodes what would otherwise be an easy task. Too many aspirations, too many motivations, not enough knowledge.
The value of the demonic practice of having eyes in Houses becomes acutely clear. Of course, I’m not going to suggest Ryc do the same.
“Ganus is the sole reason we maintain mental wards at these meetings,” Fenryn says bitterly. “He’s apparently incapable of controlling his innate. Hogwash. It’s an intimidation tactic.”
“Then let us hope Ganus’ innate doesn’t get away from him today,” Ryc says. “I will claim blood tithe otherwise.”
I don’t have to ask to understand what he means.
Retribution in blood.
Fenryn grins. It’s the kind of lopsided grin laced with both approval and excitement. “I know you will. Can’t wait to see it,” he says.
“Let us also hope seeing Lady Vestaris is enough to sway King Liran,” Riordan adds quietly.
Ryc’s brows crease as his eyes narrow. “We don’t have his support?”
Fenryn shakes his head. “Not fully. Not yet. He claims he wants to wait to hear the arguments.”
I thought integrity only felt like betrayal in the hells.
Seems I was wrong.
Ryc sighs, rubbing at his brow. “At least it’s not a solid no.”
“Yet,” Fenryn huffs. “It’s like the gods don’t want us united.”
Well, I know of at least one god who doesn’t.
The parallels between these fae—these Sovereign Kings—and the Layer Lords are far too many. Replace bickering archdemons with bickering fae and the differences lie in vanity.
“I’m not fond of leaving this much to guesswork, Ryc,” Fenryn says, his voice low. He turns his keen eyes to me. “Especiallywith you here. Regardless of Ryc beside you.”
“We have to be ready for this to fail,” Ryc says, his tone firm.
“Ever the optimist,” Fenryn muses. He heaves a sigh. “Today is guaranteed to be a shitstorm. If the evidence Ganus claims to have requires this level of theatrics, it isn’t evidence at all. It’s smoke and mirrors.”
Ryc’s silence on the matter is damn near deafening.
Fenryn doesn’t notice.
But I do.
“Let’s get this over with,” Fenryn says in a disgruntled groan.
He gestures toward the throne room doors with an open hand. Turning, Ryc offers me his arm, an offer I take with little hesitation. Fenryn steps in on my right and Riordan falls in behind me.
A daughter of death flanked by two influential and powerful fae.
Quite the message indeed.
“What evidence?”I send the demanding question through our bond as we walk.
A moment of silence hangs between us as Ryc works his lips into a flat line. A much longer moment than I’d like. My eyes narrow as I peer up at him.
“Ganus may have made the same connections I have,”he answers, meeting my piercing stare briefly.“If so, we have to do whatever it takes to keep Ganus from laying it before the council. Otherwise Rowen is damned.”There’s more than a healthy dose of reservation and reluctance in his tone.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
