The Jacari door came alight first, the symbol a broad-faced hammer. Even though Arraidia’s support was all but guaranteed, like with all dignitaries, first impressions mattered. Kasira took up a position at Allaster’s side, her shoulder brushing his, and felt him still.
The game would begin the moment the dignitaries crossed through that door.
“Any last questions?” Allaster surveyed the faces before him. Warrin, looking young and nervous. May, steadfast and unyielding. Until at last, his silver gaze found hers. It was no easy feat to stare resolutely back at him. To give him a nod of reassurance while inside she fell apart.
Talthari opened the Jacari door and in swept Arraidia Vezar, Guild Master of Jacara. Tall, with broad shoulders and muscled arms beneath dark skin, Arraidia’s face was a sweep of prominent, handsome features, her raven-black hair tied in a long tail down her back with a series of midnight-green ribbons.
Among the bright colors of her patterned dress, one adornment stood above the rest: a pair of silver makhet gloves encasing her hands as lithely as the finest silk.
As Master of the Guild, Arraidia’s hands were protected at all times, though both of the crimson-clothed guards at her back had an identical pair of gloves at their hips. They looked inconspicuous enough, but Kasira knew those gloves could hit with the force of vylor and mold into far more dangerous shapes.
Arraidia’s dark eyes swept the room with stark efficiency, before she touched two fingers to her bright red lips in greeting. “Librarian,” she said, her voice a crackling fire.
Allaster returned her greeting. “Guild Master. May I introduce Kasira Vitalis, Assistant Librarian of Amorlin.” He gestured at Kasira, who also pressed two fingers to her lips.
Carlia had taught her some basics of the Jacari language the past few days, which a past Librarian had described as both the most beautiful and most difficult in all the six realms. The three Jacari clans had spoken disparate tongues, and though each relied heavily on tones, one had also been largely gesture based. After the clans united under the Vezar family, a new language developed from the other three, a mix of verbal and physical communication.
“It is an honor to meet you, Guild Master.” Kasira pressed her fist over her heart at the word “honor” then brought it open faced toward Arraidia.
“And you, Assistant.” The Guild Master swept her gloved fingertips across Kasira’s palm with a small bow of her head. Her hands were large, her gloves tied shut at the wrist with thin makhet filigree chains. As Guild Master, Arraidia held all the secrets of makhet work and would be an accomplished smith herself.
Talthari moved to Arraidia’s side. “If you will follow me, GuildMaster, I will show you to your room.” They pressed their hands in supplication at Arraidia’s title, and the procession set off down the hall.
Allaster let out a small sigh. “One.”
The other arrivals followed a similar pattern, each door coming alight at the country’s allotted time. Queen Sarren and Ryn entered next with their guards, the Queen’s dress a masterpiece of Verentula silk and decorative brocade, with a corset-like bodice covered in crimson kyda. They came bearing a pouch of coffee beans for Allaster, and he gave them a small tome on Syovars in return, which earned him a small smile from the Queen before Fen led them away.
Allaster handed Kasira the bag of coffee beans. “Put that somewhere I can’t find it.”
Kasira shook hands with the elderly Arch Minister Cernos of Riviair and the Minister of Beasts next. Both were short, brown-skinned men with shaved heads and the paws of the feline Kilari Bloodpanther marked on their palms. Done with a special ink that faded after two years—the time each Minister served before elections—it made it easy for Riviairens to identify their officials in public should they seek to petition them.
May had just escorted them and their guards away when the open book symbol of the Miravi door came alight. Warrin opened it, stepping aside as Ambric entered. He was alone, his long silver beard braided down his chest and tied with a sapphire pin. He wore a slightly more embellished version of his usual dark robes, the cuffs embroidered with silver threads, but it was his face that bore the starkest of changes.
He looked as though he had aged a thousand years.
“Brother,” Allaster greeted him tentatively. “You haven’t been responding to my messages.”
“So I haven’t.” Ambric’s voice was hoarse and tired. “I have a country to run and don’t have time to squander on my little brother’s every whim.” He didn’t wait for Allaster’s response before striking off down the hall, leaving Warrin to race along in his wake. Kasira swallowed back her questions. She had known Allaster had been trying andfailing to connect with Ambric since Spenshire, but Allaster had written it off as his brother’s attempts to remain neutral.
That had not felt neutral to her.
The crossed swords of Kalthos came alight, and Allaster’s exhaustion redoubled. Then he cracked his neck and faced the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
Carlia exchanged wary looks with Kasira before she turned the handle. Ambassador Vera swept in, dressed in the pure white and muted gold of the church, followed by two Malik. She didn’t spare her breath on pleasantries. “Take me to the Glass Room,” she ordered Carlia. “I wish to prepare for the proceedings.”
Carlia inclined her head, her tone irreverent as she said, “Your Excellency, if we may wait for the King to arrive?”
As if on cue, King Carthur entered with his own palace guards. Two royals—two different sources of protection. Kasira had suspected that Vera had the loyalty of many Malik, but to display it so brazenly by requisitioning them as her own personal guard? No wonder the King was so concerned about her rising power.
The cousins exchanged dour looks before Carlia led them from the portal room. Neither of them so much as looked at Kasira.
“How long do we have until the proceedings begin?” Kasira asked Allaster.
He fell back against the nearest wall, looking careworn. “Until noonday. Many of the dignitaries will make their way to the Glass Room before then. Lay what groundwork you can and get an idea of how everyone is feeling.”
Kasira flashed him a smile she didn’t feel. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
The Glass Room was aptly named. With three walls of floor-to-ceiling stained glass portraying everything from onyx-winged dragons to snow-white Alkatir, the room was awash in colorful light. On the very top floor of the Library, it was the final room before the natural stone cavern of the mountain, beneath which rested the old Library and catacombs. A finely detailed map of the six nations took up the back wall between two entrance doors, and tapestries depicting thecountries’ sigils hung from the ceiling above a round table of thick wood.
