Unsurprisingly, Jonathan was the first to break the silence. “That is all? You’re telling us that nothing occurred during your time with Koerlyn? That your escape was as simple as walking out a door?” Disbelief colored his voice.
I addressed him calmly, though my heart thundered. “I imagine Koerlyn meant to speak with me at some point, but I left before he could. He also thought the poison would disable me for longer than it did, so there were few barriers to my escape. The outside of the inn was left largely unguarded, and while his men patrolled the woods, it was nothing I couldn’t evade. Koerlyn’s overconfidence was an easy tool to exploit.”
“And I wouldn’t be so ignorant as to saynothingoccurred during her time in his Territory,” Harthon pointed out, steering the table’s attention away from me. “We learned just how sloppy he is. He had the world’s most powerful being in his grasp, and he took almost no measures to contain her. If he somehow still lives, it’s a trait we will exploit as we take his Territory.”
“And when will we be taking that Territory?” Again, the beady-eyed Lord spoke. “We already weakened him on the battlefield. I may not be a tactician, but it seems surprising we are not capitalizing on momentum and already pushing into his Territory.”
It was a reasonable question, and it was one Harthon couldn’t answer honestly, because we weren’t telling his cabinet that I knew the path into the Domus.
“You’re correct, Alrich. You are not a military tactician. You’ve never seen battle, nor has any other person at this table besides myself, Ana, and Etarla,” he reminded him coldly. “There are more factors to consider than any of you know. We’re evaluating our options to determine the best course of action. Oftentimes, that course is the least obvious one.”
The Lord,Alrich,wasn’t miffed by the obvious insult. He merely moved his unsettling attention back to me.
“Any other questions?” Harthon dared.
When, wisely, no one spoke, Jonathan huffed, eyes popping at his fellow Lords in disbelief. He huffed again, sounding very much like he was choking on his own self-importance.
“No one is going to say it?” he exclaimed. Met with silence, his look of outrageous disbelief turned to Harthon. “She,” he pointed a pale, ring-adorned finger at me, “is athreat.”
Harthon, who until then had regarded him with boredom, subtly shifted a muscled shoulder. Preparing to gut him, perhaps, for what he was accusing.
As expected, Jonathan took no pause. “If she cannot stay within the city walls where we can keep hercontained,what’s to stop her from falling into another Princeps’ hands? If she is that powerful, we cannot risk another Princeps being able to use her. It could ruin us!” That pointed finger landed on the table with a righteous thud as he blustered, “Kings have always kept themagvislocked away for use, no? I don’t see why we shouldn’t do the same thing to this one!”
As his outburst echoed through the stone-walled room, there was nothing to soften the hate he’d spewed. I knew, without a doubt, that Harthon would rend him limb from limb, if not with his hands, then with his words. Jonathan wasn’t merely insulting me; he was openly questioning his Princeps.
The worst part, though, was that he wasn’t alone in his thinking. Harthon alreadywaskeeping me contained—had sicced Stefano on me from the moment I awoke in that tent—because he, too, didn’t trust me to keep myself out of others’ hands.
But Jonathan was speaking his thoughts with such high-minded indignation that the anger he’d already sparked morphed into a fury demanding payment. Not waiting for Harthon to respond, I said, “I’m beginning to question your ability to be in this cabinet, Jonathan. You have a tendency to speak as if I’m not in the room. It makes me wonder if your faculties are sound.”
In my periphery, Ana’s lips twitched.
Jonathan, meanwhile, sputtered. “I’ll have you know—”
“It is also rather curious that you think youcouldlock me away,” I interrupted. Rising to my feet, I leaned over the table. To my utter glee, he shifted back in his seat. “I ampartneredwith Harthon.” I emphasized the word, hoping to remind the Princeps himself of that fact. “I am not an animal, or a pet to be contained. I am a valuable tool. A weapon. I could crush you so thoroughly, your gold chains and rings would be all that remained. Harthon could easily do the same. In fact, he might just do so the moment I am done speaking. You’d do well to remember this.” The hot core beneath my ribs jolted, and Jonathan’s face paled.
When I turned to Harthon, signaling I was finished, his stony indifference stared back at me. The fight drained out of me as I questioned what I’d just done.
Harthon was Princeps. He’d just been insulted by Jonathan, and I didn’t let him speak first.
Without looking, Harthon withdrew a dagger from somewhere on his body and slammed it into the table. Solid oak cracked like an eggshell, the hilt’s whizzing vibrations permeating the room’s deafening hush.
“The next time you disrespect your Princeps or themagvis, Jonathan,” his focus slid from me to the withering Lord, “I will take this dagger and cut out your tongue where you sit.”
A short, sweet sound of fear came from Jonathan’s throat.
“I hope you were listening, as there is no need for me to repeat the responses yourmagvisso eloquently offered.” Really? Eloquent was the last word I’d use to describe anything about me. “Shall we move on, or does anyone else wish to hear their own voice?”
At the answering quiet, Harthon announced, “Etarla has other matters to attend to.”
That was my cue. I wouldn’t push back. The rush of asserting myself over men who outranked me was quickly fading, familiartiredness growing in its wake. Without a word, I walked through the double doors, held open by two guards.
Stefano greeted me on the other side. His face twisted as he took me in, but he didn’t speak until we were down the hall. “What happened in there?”
“Self-important asses,” I muttered, my thoughts already past the meeting and focused on my bed.
“Apparently, self-important asses change your eyes,” he said.
My steps stuttered. “What?”
