They followed the clerk across the large plaza, the grand fountain bubbling away in its center. In the middle of the fountain was an airship built to scale out of clockwork gears that rotated on a pillar. Water poured from the prow in a spray that drifted a little on the breeze.
Directly ahead of them was the capitol building, surrounded by a grand promenade that wrapped around the massive circular heart of government. People scurried here and there, the job of government never ceasing.
“Do you know what they want from me?” Blaine asked, raising his voice a little.
The clerk never looked back at him. “It will be discussed behind closed doors.”
Blaine winced at that, sharing a concerned look with Honovi. He’d never been privy to a closed-door meeting before, and the knot in his stomach grew heavier.
The crowd in the plaza was typical of midweek. Blaine and Honovi were some of the few wearing flight leathers, their clan association hinted at in the plaid shoulder panels. Everyone else wore kilts, suits, or gowns, with clan adornments in everyone’s braids a prominent accessory. Blaine could pick out clan association by the different patterned kilts, intricate embroidery, or plaid everyone wore.
They climbed the grand steps to the promenade, the pillars holding up the roof carved with the constellations of the star gods at the top. The gold leaf there glinted in the sunlight, catching the eye.
The heavy wooden doors leading into the building were propped open. A pair of peacekeepers manned the entrance, directing visitors to the information desk in the grand lobby. The clerk guiding them was waved through, as were they. Blaine stayed by Honovi’s side as they walked a familiar path to the center chamber the building’s foundations had been laid around.
Three concentric circles filled with offices surrounded the central chambers and were bisected by six main halls, one for each clan. Between each circular structure were gardens encased in glass, filled with plants fed by filtered streams and shallow ponds. All hallways led to theComhairle nan Cinnidheanchambers with its stained glass windows, tributes to the star gods painted on its vaulted ceiling, and a mechanical astrolabe hanging from the ceiling that moved by way of clockwork gears.
The two-story chamber was ringed by a balcony allowing for public viewing of thecinn-chinnidhas they debated into governance the laws brought by clan representatives through the Seneschal’s Office. Blaine rarely stepped foot onto the chamber floor, and he tried not to hunch his shoulders as they entered the hushed space. The clerk closed the door behind them, the sound of it locking loud in his ears.
The entireComhairle nan Cinnidheanwas present at the circular table situated beneath the astrolabe, the center area hollowed out into open space. Only thecinn-chinnidh, though, and not theirjarls, which made Honovi’s presence an outlier. Blaine was surprised to see a trio of Ashionens standing in the center space rather than seated at the adjacent table reserved for ambassadors.
Maybe they weren’t ambassadors, Blaine decided as they drew closer and he got a better look at the foreigners’ clothing. Practical and drab, with none of the whimsical finery his memory teased him with. E’ridians held pride in their embroidery, plaid, and embellished cuts of cloth if they weren’t wearing leather flying gear. Upon first glance, the people standing before theComhairle nan Cinnidheanlooked to be no one of note, but then, they wouldn’t be there if that were the case.
“JarlHonovi, you were not summoned,” Leena,ceann-cinnidhof Clan Lightning, said in a firm voice.
“You summoned a member of my clan and my personal airship crew, who happens to be my husband,” Honovi said lightly, but Blaine could hear a thread of steel running through his voice. “I think it only right to have escorted him.”
“And now you may leave.”
Honovi planted his feet and tucked his thumbs around the hard leather of his belt. He looked as if he stood on a swaying airship, prepared to guide it through a storm, rather than on solid ground before the rulers of their country. “I would prefer to stay. You bring Ashionens into our speaking space, and they do not have the look of ambassadors. What need do they have with one of ours?”
Blaine squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. While he hadn’t forgotten where he had come from, he was E’ridian now, down to his bones. It had taken little time to assimilate into his adopted country’s culture as a child. Honovi had helped with that ever since escorting him off that long-destroyed airship, easing the way by virtue of his status asjarl.
Blaine hadn’t been adopted into theceann-cinnidh’s family within the clan, but his and Honovi’s friendship had grown into a love they hadn’t thought about denying. When he’d married Honovi, Blaine knew whatever loyalty he’d once had to his birth country would forever be severed. Once unraveled, he could not reweave those ties.
Or so he liked to tell himself.
“The summons was for Blaine. Abide by theComhairle nan Cinnidhean’s orders,jarlHonovi,” Leena said.
Honovi blinked at her before turning his head to look at Blaine. The kindness in his eyes rooted Blaine where he stood. “Do you wish me to leave?”
Blaine never hesitated when he shook his head. As if he would ever say no to such a thing. “I would hear theComhairle nan Cinnidhean’s words with you here.”
Honovi nodded, and a stubborn tightness came to his jaw, a tension Blaine knew well when Honovi was set to get his way during trade talks.
“I have a right asjarlto hear what theComhairle nan Cinnidheanhas to say regarding one of my clan. I have a right as his husband to the same. I will stay,” Honovi said, a challenge in his words that made not a few of thecinn-chinnidhbristle around the table.
Before anyone else could protest, Honovi’s father raised his hand in a gesture asking for silence. Alrickson kept his eyes on his son and no one else. “Jarlswere present the night Blaine came to us. This is not a secret we break confidence on ifjarlHonovi stays. And he is right. Blaine is of our clan.”
Something like ice trickled down Blaine’s spine, catching his breath the way a sudden drop in the atmosphere sometimes did. He wrenched his attention to the Ashionens, finding the three staring right at him.
“I am at theComhairle nan Cinnidhean’s disposal,” Blaine said around a tightness in his throat.
Honovi gestured for Blaine to follow him to the only empty spot at the table, one with a small riser for someone to place notes on. The spot was used by those who’d come to argue their cases before law and country. They took up the space with clear intent, standing side by side. The Ashionens shifted on their feet to face where Blaine and Honovi now stood.
“An Ashionen arrived during the winter snows, carrying a message on their tongue from someone of particular note in their country. It was received in secret, and we debated its merit over the course of many weeks. Ultimately, the request could not be ignored. We sent word back that we would hear their concerns. These representatives arrived in the wake of that request,” Alrickson said.
Every eye was on Blaine, and he refused to react. He kept his face expressionless despite the churning in his gut, the clamminess of his hands, and the distant voice of a star god echoing through the valleys of his mind.
