All of it combined to make her tongue looser than normal. Her words unwise—even if they were true.
“Lady Fisher, you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.” The emperor looked in her direction from where he sat at the head of the table with his head propped on his fist, the same testiness in Thora’s expression present in his too, just a lot less obvious.
To Thaddeus’s right and left were the Lord Provost and the Obsidian Lord, the former of which made Tate’s brow furrow. If she’d known the Lord Provost would be in attendance, there would have been no need to split up. She could have let the duke take point in this circus.
George stood at attention behind the Obsidian Lord’s shoulder, a hint of gloating moving through the other woman’s expression at Tate’s surprise before disappearing behind a carefully neutral mask.
It wasn’t that Tate thought much would be done to the dragon slayer—at most she’d be given a slap on the wrist—but she hadn’t thought she’d be allowed to resume her duties quite so quickly.
Tate looked back at the Lord Provost and the Obsidian Lord with a thoughtful gaze. Could George have escaped consequences because of someone else’s interference? And if so, who helped the dragon slayer out?
The easy answer would be Archie, given their duties seemed to align, but Tate didn’t see the Lord Provost easily allowing others to interfere in how his organization was run. Not unless he got some benefit out of it.
“My apologies, your majesty.” Tate made a half bow as she searched the room for Ryu, not seeing him. Did that mean the emperor was still unaware of the events surrounding Christopher’s escape? “There were some unforeseen situations that needed to be taken care of.”
The pontificator who’d been addressing the gathering straightened his back with a sneer that grew into disgust as he caught sight of Night pacing at her side.
“The Lady Fisher may not realize the threat sleepers pose to our way of life since she is new to Aurelia, but they are a plague on this land. Sometimes hard decisions must be made to protect the many.”
Tate saw the faces of the Kairi and the Silva present harden.
Tala didn’t look at Gabriella as she placed her hand on the other woman’s hand to give a reassuring squeeze.
The Kairi’s stares were impassive as they listened to the nonsense this man was spewing, while acting like what was being said didn’t affect them—even though every single person present knew it did.
How long after they obliterated the sleepers before they would turn their attention to the other two races? How long before these same humans decided that anyone different didn’t deserve to live?
Thinking like this was a poison that infected everything it touched. It led to a domino effect that toppled sanity and reason while setting the world on fire.
The sleepers weren’t all mindless killing machines. Some, like Night, were so much more than their Creators intended them to be. They deserved a chance. Tate would fight for that—even if it meant making a few enemies along the way.
“Your arrogance makes me breathless. Half of those present carry sleepers in their heritage in one form or another,” Tate said.
The pontificator curled his lip. “Sadly, the Kairi and Silva have their uses. They’re necessary evils for the running of this empire.”
Tate’s mind stuttered at the idiocy in front of her. Was this man really so dumb as to say something like that? To insult both races right to their faces?
Aristocrats had never really impressed her with their brains—with the exception of a notable few like the Lord Provost—but she also hadn’t thought they were so clueless as to deliberately incite war.
A terrifying snarl came from the direction of Gabriella. Only Tala’s firm grip on her hand kept the woman from coming across the table at the pontificator.
On the opposite side, the atmosphere around the Kairi had turned chilly as disapproval and contempt radiated off them.
The pontificator’s allies didn’t seem to notice the rising tension that carried underlying violence—or maybe they did and they just didn’t care, secure in the notion their superiority would protect them.
Tate wondered if these people would be able to hold to that belief if she removed that sneer from the pontificator’s face. Would they still think they were superior? Fight back? Or would they cower in fear and call her a monster?
We should find out,Ilith whispered.
No need. Tate already knew how it would end. They’d call her a monster. Never mind that she was just acting according to the script they had given her or that they’d been the ones to attack first. They simply hadn’t expected how brutal her retaliation would be.
That was the thing. When you poked the beast, you had to be ready to get a little bloody.
Night’s claws penetrated the fabric of her pants, the look on his face warning her not to get too carried away. Reluctantly, Tate hummed an agreement as Ilith whined.
“Tate?” Dewdrop’s voice came from behind her.
Tate looked over her shoulder to find Dewdrop, his arm carefully wrapped in a sling across his chest, standing next to Ryu. Tyne pushed slightly in front of them.
