“Not long enough,” Varyth retorted coolly, his fingers drumming once against the tabletop before stilling.
Xyliria let out a soft laugh, taking her seat beside her husband. “Oh, come now,” she purred. “We’ve come all this way. Surely you can at least pretend to be pleased to see us.”
“Pretending has never been one of my strengths.”
“Shame.” Xyliria tilted her head, a slow, intentional sweep from my face to my hand, where Varyth’s fingers rested on mine. Amusement flashed in her expression, and then she exhaled through her nose in what might have been a laugh.
“Well, well.” She let the silence stretch, then sliced through it with silk-wrapped mockery. “You brought your new pet. How quaint.”
Varyth tensed beside me, though his expression remained unchanged. Darian, on the other hand, let out a low snarl, trembling with the effort it took to restrain himself from lunging across the table.
I met Xyliria’s gaze evenly, refusing to let her see the irritation she’d ignited in me. “Isara,” I corrected smoothly. “But I can see a proper introduction might be difficult for someone so preoccupied with outdated notions of superiority.”
Xyliria’s eyes widened fractionally, surprise crossing her face before it settled back into its mask of cool amusement. “You’d think you’d have learned from the last time you addressed me,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “But I suppose humans aren’t the brightest creatures.”
Varyth leaned back in his chair. “Instead of insulting my court, perhaps you could enlighten us. What, exactly, is the purpose of this meeting?”
Xyliria rested her elbows on the arms of her chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin like she was about to deliver the world’s most entertaining lecture. “Why, to negotiate, of course.”
Fenric shifted beside me, tension bleeding from him in waves. “Negotiatewhat, exactly?”
“There is aformer humansitting at this table,” Xyliria purred, letting each word drip like poison. “Who crossed the Veil with power that hasn’t been felt in centuries. Surely, Varyth, you cannot expect that we would simply allow this to go…unchecked.”
“It has nothing to do with you.” Varyth’s voice could have frozen the sun. His thumb traced another circle against my hand.
Xyliria tracked the motion. “Protecting a human. Have you gone soft?” Her eyes gleamed. “Is that what happens when you take one to bed?”
Varyth didn’t react, his face a mask of control, and his hand stayed locked with mine.
Xyliria only laughed, unbothered. “At least I had the sense to marry proper power.”
She turned sweetly toward Ashterion, letting her fingers trail down his arm in a slow, calculated stroke.
Ashterion flinched.
Barely, but I saw it. The faint tension in his shoulders, the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his gaze flicked to her hand. It was an intrusion he endured but didn’t welcome. No one else noticed. Or, at the very least, they didn’t acknowledge it.
I let out a laugh of my own. “You’re right, Xyliria. You married power. But tell me, what good is power if your own husband recoils from your touch?”
No one spoke. No one dared to.
Varyth’s fingers tightened around mine, the smallest squeeze of approval.
Xyliria’s smile sharpened, amusement turning cruel in an instant. “Oh, darling.” She tapped one perfectly manicured nail against the table. Once. Twice. A countdown, maybe. “It’s sweet that you think Varyth touching you means anything. Humans are such desperate creatures, aren’t they? You’ll take any scrap of affection and convince yourself it’s love.”
I didn’t flinch, even as her words whipped through me.
Ashterion moved. His fingers threaded into Xyliria’s hair, curling at the nape of her neck. But he didn’t pull. He held her there, a thing meant to be seen, not felt.
I glanced between Elowyn and Merrick, tracking their expressions, looking for any sort of hint. They looked tense—because of the circumstances, of course. But there wassomething else there, tightly wound. Merrick’s fingers drummed erratically against the table, Elowyn’s spine was almost too straight. A thread of unspoken tension ran through them, through this whole interaction.
I decided to push again. I hummed thoughtfully, waving a dismissive hand at Xyliria.
“I didn’t realise consorts held the leashes of High Lords.” I laughed mockingly. “Or is it just that you’re eager to matter?”
“My wife is correct.” Ashterion’s voice was smooth, controlled, utterly devoid of anything resembling emotion. Like he’d carved out every feeling and locked it away where it couldn’t be used against him. “The power… I sensed it when you crossed. Whatever it is? It belongs to my court.”
“I belong tono one.” The words came out flat. Absolute.
