“I asked you here,” I began, pouring mead into each goblet with deliberate slowness, “because your kingdom cannot wait for you two to settle yourdifferences in your own time. I’ve heard much, and felt the truth under the lies from your people’s mouths over the past few weeks.”
Nisien sobered slightly. Emrys buried his face in his hands.
“The northern lords speak of secession. Your nobles have begun placing bets on which brother will sit on the throne alone.” I finished filling Emrys’s goblet then Nisien’s. “And in the halls of your own keep, soldiers whisper of a kingdom divided. The Assembly will not gamble its future on a kingdom that can’t decide if it’s at war with itself or the world.”
That last part was pure bluster, but it sounded damn good.
Nisien leaned back, fingers steepled. “I knew I was rightfully terrified of you, Lady Isca. Help save us from ourselves?”
“No,” I admonished. “I’ve come to remind you that I’m not a part of your silent feud or here to be a source of entertainment for the castle. I am a diplomat from the Mage Assembly, here to secure peace. We need to make progress.”
I looked at Emrys then, careful but direct. “Peace cannot be brokered with men who cannot speak to each other without dirty looks or pummeling each other in the training yard.”
Emrys was shut off like normal, but I had sharpened my attention on reading him in other ways over the past few weeks. Whenever he was fighting off another outburst, he would either clench his jaw or swallow then huff out a silent snarl while averting his face. He was giving all the signs of it happening again.
“I need your permission to use my magic on you, Prince Emrys.” The situation demanded I dosomethingbefore losing this opportunity. “I must meet certain expectations, and any further delays may have me recalled to Caervorn before I can finish my job here.”
Both men stilled.
Then Emrys threw back his entire goblet in one swallow. Given that Emrys wasn’t one for drink, his suffering must’ve been even greater than I’d guessed.
“Why not?” he announced a bit too loudly. “Can’t fall much lower, can I?”
I drew in a slow, deliberate breath. He clearly didn’t know how strong he was to stand against the thing I’d only glimpsed inside him, but now wasn’t the time to try to convince him of that.
I made no change to my posture or expression as waves slipped from me in lazy ripples headed straight for Emrys’s turbulent core. He needed to remember that he was separate from the curse, that there could be quietude untouched by its violence.
His wild, blue-fire eyes immediately snapped to mine for one fraught second. But then something in his gaze shifted, became more aware, more present. Morehuman.
He exhaled, the first full breath I’d seen him take in days.
“Mage Isca, I’m sor—” he began, voice ragged, but I lifted a hand to stop him.
“This meeting isn’t for more apologies,” I interrupted. “That was already accepted.” I gestured to the sprig in my hair.
Nisien’s gaze darted between us. It narrowed at Emrys then became worried when it reached me.
“I wasn’t sent to mediate tantrums,” I said, “but I will if I must. So decide: Will you act like princes? Or should I tell Chancellor Maeron that you are both lost causes?”
I was beginning to sound exactly like my mother… Yet it worked.
Nisien replied first. “Lady Isca, I am once again reminded of how grateful I am that they have sent you to us. I’ll try to behave.”
Emrys nodded once. I continued my slow offering of soothing magic to him. When he spoke, his voice was quiet buthis. “Yes, I can.”
Nisien barked a laugh. “Isca will make this tolerable.” He raised his drink in a mock toast. “To not being entirely hopeless,together.”
“Good.” I inclined my head and folded my hands neatly atop the polished oak table. “What is the biggest problem facing Darreth right now?”
“Budgets,” Nisien said.
“Border conditions,” Emrys said at the same time.
It was a miracle: a straight answer that came instantly. “Well,” I said lightly, “unless Darreth has begun exporting borders and defending against ledger sheets, there has to be some overlap. Tell me about that.”
Nisien responded with the easy rhythm of someone who’d told the story often, perhaps too often. “The border with Gelida has been a problem since the fall of the empire. They’ve called us witches, monsters, even blood-heirs of Avanfell, which is only partially true. For generations, their kings have tried to take land on our borders to decrease the influence of magic on their people.”
Though Nisien’s voice lacked malice, a jaded tone hinted at a well-worn weariness. “They constantly threaten outlawing magecraft entirely. Our people have mixed for generations, so we share blood. It shouldn’t be this way. I’ve heard word that their king is ailing, so they may have a new monarch soon. That will probably mean war—civil or otherwise. There’s an equal chance they’ll become more tolerant of magic, or potentially less so.”
