With every step down the hall, Dorian groaned. He cursed himself for drinking until he lost his mind. Hands rubbing over his face, he almost knocked over a few sets of armor and ran into Belwarks on his way down to the kitchen. He cut through the servants’ tunnels from the next level, but he paused upon hearing voices when he passed by the meeting Chamber.
“—giving Balandria a spot at the table?” Draven was asking Aydra.
“She’s your next King,” Aydra replied. “She deserves it.”
Dorian frowned at the pair standing in the meeting hall helping servants place out things for the breakfast buffet and helping to move the tables for the meeting later. Aydra, he’d seen help the servants out before, but Draven…
It was a sight to see the Venari King helping with dishes.
Dorian yawned as he strolled through the doorway, dodging a Dreamer with a tray as he stepped inside.
“What’s happening…” he managed.
Aydra’s eyes lit up upon landing on him, and she met him halfway. “Good morning, brother,” she said as she ruffled his hair.
It always made him feel like a kid, and he loved it. Even if she did have to reach high over him now that he was a few inches taller than her.
Her nose wrinkled when she pulled back. “Disgusting, Dorian,” she drawled. “You smell of sex. Who did you get into trouble with last night?”
He couldn’t resist his lazy smile. “My secrets,” he told her. A chill ran over his arms, and he wrapped his robe tighter as he looked around them. “What are you two doing?”
“Making sure no wars are started tonight,” Draven said, continuing to set plates on the table.
“Why not?” Dorian yawned. “I thought a great war was what we were preparing for.”
“That is a different war,” Aydra said. “One that we need to have everyone on the same page for.”
Draven paused in setting the plates and turned slightly. His brows knitted together, and Dorian met his gaze for a swift moment before Draven addressed Aydra.
Dorian knew that look.
“You’re going to bring up the ships, aren’t you?” Draven asked.
Dorian didn’t move as he looked between them. He knew his sister well enough to know that of course she was bringing up the ships. And he was surprised Draven thought she wouldn’t.
“Maybe,” she answered, now folding napkins a little more violently than before.
“Aydra—“
Draven reached for her, but she turned away from him, nearly ripping the cloth in half. “You cannot stop me,” she snapped.
“Aydra, you can’t—“
Aydra started across the room, but Draven grabbed her arm and whirled her back to him.
“You don’t know the Blackhands,” he practically growled. “If you start off talking about war, they will think they have been ambushed in to this meeting to bow at your feet. You will start something you cannot control. Do you not remember the last time you brought them up?”
“Then what is the point of all this?” Aydra snapped, wrenching herself from his grasp. “What is the point of bringing every leading member of the Echelon together in this room if not to talk about the strangers on our shores? What else is there to discuss?”
“Trading routes, goods, the slaves of the northern Blackhand town, Infi persons in the streets, peacekeeping initiatives—“
Aydra laughed sadistically. “Peacekeeping initiatives… The only peace these people will ever see is if we get rid of the strangers on our shores. We have to talk about it.”
They were arguing like an old married couple, and Dorian loved it.
No one else dared to be brave enough to blatantly argue with the Sun Queen.
“—Let them talk their politics, and when your brother tries to end the meeting, bring it up as a last note. You have my full support—“
