Well, it wasn’t important to me, but I had no choice in the matter.
A delicate hand landed on my arm, and I turned to meet Ana’s placating gaze. “You’ll find it insightful, if not entertaining. Some of them make asses of themselves, and it’s rather fun to watch.”
I didn’t wantinsightinto the small-minded, selfish concerns of the elite, nor did I want to be entertained by them.
But it didn’t matter, because a few minutes and many hallways later, I found myself seated beside Ana at a long, wooden table, much like the one in the library. A fire warmed the space, and three tall windows across from me offered a glimpse of the training grounds where men fought, grappled, or sent arrows into targets. The four bodies were still strung up in the distance, watching over the activities like haunted wardens.
Two guards opened the double doors by the foot of the table. They were the same guards who’d bowed their heads toward me as I’d first entered the room.
I’d nearly tripped over my own feet when they’d done it. No one had ever bowed to me in their life. It felt…strange.
A slow parade of middle-aged and old men entered, all garbed in colored robes and heavy, jeweled necklaces that screamed of status. They mumbled a disjointed chorus of “Princeps” and “Minister” as they bumbled to their seats, paying me no notice. Positioned at the head of the table next to me, Harthon was splayed casually in his chair, legs spread as he leaned on an armrest. His face was a mask of indifference.
The Lord diagonal to me, a wrinkled face with wisps of white hair clinging to his balding head, looked up and met my eyes. He flung his chair back, the sound of wood scraping on stone like knives in my ears. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as the other eight men stared at him and then me. “She’s—”
Harthon cut him off. “Do you see those four bodies dangling in the courtyard behind you, Jonathan?”
Heads swiveled toward the windows.
“That is what happens to anyone who doesn’t treat themagvisappropriately, as I made very clear moments ago. You were inattendance, were you not?” The patient question was a stark contrast to the threat underlying the words.
Jonathan stopped his blubbering, delicately scooting his seat forward once more. “Yes, Princeps. My apologies. I did not expect it—”
“Her.”
“I’m sorry, Princeps?” Jonathan asked, confusion deepening the wrinkles around his overly wide mouth.
“I believe you meanther,notit.” Harthon’s gaze slid to me. “As you can see, themagvisis a very lovely woman. Her name is Etarla.”
Something in my belly jumped. Surely, Harthon had only called melovelyto emphasize his point.
“I…yes, she—Etarla—is very lovely indeed.”
“Etarla is here because she is more powerful and important than any of you. She now plays an integral role in this Territory, and thus, she is privy to our conversations. Any questions?”
No one spoke.
“Good.” Harthon straightened in his seat. “Now as I’m sure you’ve guessed, Koerlyn is not happy that we have themagvisand he does not. We’ve been dealing with minor incursions, but he will be increasing his efforts. He will not stop attacking us until he has Etarla. As such, I’ll need you to prepare your men to be drafted. There are more battles coming, and they won’t be easy.”
“Are you going to continue taking his land in the meantime?” the man across from me inquired. In his forties or fifties, his brown hair was slicked back from hawkish features.
“It won’t be our focus, but it will be a consequence of the final outcome. This will only end in killing Koerlyn, at which point I plan to inherit his Princeps throne,” Harthon answered impassively, as if he weren’t speaking of killing a Princeps conquering an additional Territory.
“With themagvisin hand, that should be easy, no?” The question came from a man next to Ana who resembled Jonathan.
“Themagvisis very powerful, as you know. But her power must be used sparingly, and Koerlyn knows that. It is best we plan to conquer him with men.”
“When should we expect these men to march?”
“Within weeks. Our offensive will depend on Koerlyn’s.”
There were a few grunts of acknowledgement, and then a middle-aged man from the end of the table spoke. “What about the Domus, Princeps?” Symmetrical features and short, dark hair made him handsome, while unmarked skin implied he had never seen battle.
“What about it, Harold?” Harthon asked, sounding bored.
“Well, amagviswas who erected the Domus. Can yourmagvisnot take it down? Expose Centralis and whatever it contains?”
It was as if Harthon had anticipated the topic, because he smoothly responded, “We know what happened to this land when the Domus was erected. The consequences of removing the Domus may be worse. It is not a risk I will take now, especially as we are dealing with Koerlyn.”
