I must be on my guard. She’s manipulative. Cunning. She proved that in the way she handled our binding, the way she blackmailed Hyperion in the Bindery. She may look delicate, but she’s anything but. She likely ensorcelled me in the Rotunda with her mind-magic, as she did her father after igniting the Flarestone.
I shuffle my chair away, focusing once more on Talfryn as he calls Leilani forwards to issue her with her climbing equipment. She rises, the motion graceful, fluid. Unnatural. Similar to the too-fast darts of a cielsylph. I breathe a silent sigh of relief that Orthriel’s already travelled north on the King’s orders to ensure the mountain-scum will provide the rations and supplies we’ll need for the later stages of our quest. It makes it easier to refuse Leilani’s request, knowing I’m not also going up against her Guardian.
A crack resounds through the chamber. I look to the great silver-banded doors, which Blayze Arcuri is now thrusting open, scarlet cape swirling in the breeze. Idiot is still naked beneath it. Not only is he indecently clad, but he’s brought that damned bird with him too, riding roughshod over my express orders. At least the leaf-litter obeyed my command about not bringing Briar to this meeting.
I rise. ‘Good of you to join us. Didn’t I say to leave that at the palace?’
The emberwing, poised as ever on the Clanschief’s shoulder, hisses as if it understands my meaning. Perhaps it does. All of Arcelia’s creatures once possessed the power of human speech.
‘Fifi goes where I go,’ Blayze slurs, stumbling as he takes the empty seat beside Maris.
Drunk, as I thought.
Maris steadies his elbow, whispers something to which he nods. She passes him her waterskin, squeezes his arm again. I shudder. The rumours spreading like Flamefever about these two are likely true, then. From the corner of my eye, I catch the pearlsprite staring too, lips pursed, hair shifting the sour green of a fever corpse.
Both healers look on as well. Carmentis, the elder, was the only Outrealmer not numbering among the Quaternity who elected to stay in Meissa till we set off on our quest. But it’s the younger, Tansy, who approaches the Clanschief.
‘Dizzy again?’ she says, searching his face.
I look, along with her, noting his sallow complexion, the deep circles bruising his eyes. Blayze is battling more than a hangover.
He knocks back another slug of water, casts Tansy a scathing look that sends her scuttling back to her chair.
‘Did you eat the starfruit I had sent to your chambers?’ I ask.
He flicks lambent eyes to me. ‘No.’
‘It will help you acclimate.’
‘If I want your help, Peacock, I’ll ask for it.’
I’m about to observe that donning a shirt might be a fine place to start, when Talfryn clears his throat. ‘Shall we proceed, or would you like me to begin again for the benefit of…’ He gestures to the Clanschief.
‘Proceed.’ If Blayze wanted to profit from this meeting, he should have been on time. I, for one, shan’t shed any tears if he topples off a cliff.
Talfryn lifts a pair of ice-shoes from the basket and signals for Leilani to remove her boots. Her feet are slender, elegant, with a high arch. I shake myself. The sweetest-smelling berries are oft the most poisonous.
‘Why is she fit first?’ Maris says, nudging Blayze in the ribs. ‘We’re the guests here, aren’t we? And still, they’ve the audacity to look down on the rest of us, question our breeding. Hypocrites the lot of ’em.’
The Clanschief mutters something into her mass of blue braids. Something that makes her laugh.
I will not rise to their bait.
After receiving her ice-shoes, Leilani selects a climbing axe and resumes her seat. I still have all my Asteum-issued climbing equipment, so Talfryn passes to Tansy next. Once her measuring is underway, Leilani tugs at my sleeve. I try to ignore the way my skin prickles at her touch.
‘I can’t let this lie,’ she whispers. ‘She’s dying, Astrophel. Surely, it’s worth seeing if their methods might give her some respite. Grant her a little more time?’
I jerk away from her. ‘It would only hasten her end. They can’t be trusted.’
Standing, I move to the table at the back of the room where a selection of swords lie ready for our sparring practice. I separate the long and short blades into two neat piles. Anything to avoid conversing further with Leilani on this subject.
After Talfryn’s finished distributing the equipment, I invite the Quaternity to join me. They gather around as the silversmith bids us farewell and lets the doors to the Armoury fall shut behind him. Blayze whispers something to Serafine. She gives a squawk, then glides upwards, settling to roost on one of the exposed ceiling ribs.
‘I’m aware many of us are skilled in combat.’ I look first to Blayze and Maris. They’re standing next to each other, bare arms touching. More evidence to support the court whispers.
My gaze flits next to the pearlsprite. She flashes me a sly smile, revealing oversharp teeth. ‘Don’t worry about me, little lordling. I can look after myself.’ There’s something profoundly unsettling about those slashed pupils. I swallow, and look away.
I nod to the healer. ‘What about you?’
