“Someone saw Vander arrive with her. They know. Sela is keen to meet the mortal.” Rivon puffs heartily on his pipe and blows a smoke ring.
“She’ll never set foot in this keep.” I lean against the hearth, the fire’s heat nothing compared to my own. “She’ll never touch Larellin.”
“Even so, she has spies watching.” He sighs. “They saw her fall.”
“Fuck.” Fyan shakes his head, his dark hair falling haphazardly around his shoulders. “They’re closer than we thought.”
“We’ve been lax over the last few decades, languishing here while Sela has strengthened her Clan.” Rivon glowers.
“The Clan she stole,” Faraday corrects. “The only ones left from her purge.”
“Even so, she thinks she’s the one who’ll break the curse.”
“She’s killed every one of her Bargains with the mortal realm.” I stare into the flames. “Either through anger or sheer malevolence. She can’t keep her mortals alive, much less find the one to break the curse.”
“The whispers told me that’s why she’s come for your Bargain.”
I turn to stare at Rivon. “What?”
He nods. “The mortals know better than to make any more separate Bargains with Sela or her clan. She’ll have to wait 20 years to have another chance at a mortal, and even then, the Arbiter may choose another of the DragonKin, just as she chose you for this turning of the Bargain.”
I force myself to stay steady, to breathe through the rage that tries to rise in my blood. “She thinks she can take what’s mine?”
“I think her goal is clear. She wants to take the throne for herself. Part of that is ensuring that you never get a chance to end the curse.”
My hatred for Sela is a never-cooling ember, but at the thought of her coming for Larellin, it flares into a wildfire. “She willneverhave Larellin.”
“She can try.” Fyan tosses a knife in the air and catches it. “In fact, I’d like her to try it.”
Brin strides in, a wine goblet in one hand. “There’s a meeting?” He pauses and looks around the room, his wolf-yellow eyes wary. “And I’m not invited?”
“Sit.” I wave him toward the couches.
“Okay.” Still unsure, he glances around and sits opposite Rivon. “What’s going on then? Is the mortal all right?”
“She will be. Lenka is tending to her.” I say a silent prayer to the gods for the fever to break.
“Then why all the long faces?” He sips his wine.
Upstairs, Larellin whimpers, the sound of it like a blade to my heart. Her suffering—it’s my fault.
“Sela is going to try to steal the mortal.” Faraday leans over and sniffs Brin’s cup then frowns. “That better not be the sangria I traded with that obsidian witch for. I almost lost one of my nuts for that bottle.”
Brin grins and takes a big gulp. “I don’t know what it is. I just like how it makes me feel.”
Faraday reaches for the cup, but Brin yanks it away with a growl. “Give it here, you mutt!” He jumps over the couch and rounds on Brin.
“Tough words coming from an overgrown bat,” Brin taunts.
Larellin moans, pain woven into the sound.
“I’ll use your hide for a rug!” Faraday lunges.
Brin bares his fangs.
“Enough!” I bellow.
Faraday and Brin freeze, both of them turning to gawk at me.
