“None that I’ve heard, though I expect he’ll return for the masque. It would be quite out of the ordinary for the male not to attend it,” he says before taking a long sip of pink lemonade from a frosted glass and pinning me with a stare. “But I don’t imagine you asked me here to discuss the king’s return.”
Right. Straight to the point.
“Tell me about the Vatruke,” I say.
His lips spread into a smile, and he purrs, “My, my. I can’t wait to learn what other tantalizing secrets you’ve uncovered in the short time you’ve been away from your homeland.”
He leans back in his chair and clasps his hands over his belly when he says, “I expect if you’re asking, you already know that the Vatruke are a group of ancient feyn working with the La’tari?”
I gape at the man, and he chuckles, “You expected me to contradict it?”
“Of course, I did,” I say.
After all, he is one of us. He knows our cause, my mission, everything. Dread knots my gut when he confirms Media’s story.
“Does it really change anything, my dear? The La’tari would be fools to decline the help of any power willing to offer them assistance. Yes?”
I’m not sure the question is entirely rhetorical when I ask, “But, at the cost of the La’tari people?” I’m sure that at least this much of Media’s story isn’t true.
“Lives are the cost of all wars, Shivaria. You should know this. And war, like death, makes no distinction on those it takes in payment.”
The sugary tart in my hand suddenly looks very sour. I place it back on my plate as I ask, “What power can the Vatruke possibly gain from our land? It’s been dead since I was a child.”
Felias gives me a look and I know in that moment that Media spoke the truth when she said our land had been dead since long before my birth. I shake my head, trying to rattle my thoughts around until I can make sense of them.
I can hardly find my voice when I ask, “If all that I have learned istrue, then tell me how the Vatruke gain power from a land that is already barren? And what help do the Vatruke offer the La’tari that is worth exacting such a price?”
His eyes light up. I know that look, it’s the same look I’d often received from Bront when I managed a perfect maneuver and blocked his sword.
“I could tell you,” he says with a sly smile, “Or you could make your way to the docks tomorrow night and see for yourself. A little bird told me there was just such a ship coming in on the evening tide.”
He isn’t speaking of trade shipments, that much is clear. I debate asking him what I’ll find on the ship but doubt he’ll be forthcoming. And now that he’s dangled that tantalizing bit of information, we both know I’ll go and see for myself regardless of what he tells me. I settle back in my chair, a hard line etched in my forehead as I debate all that I’ve just learned.
“On another note, I hear you and the general are getting close.” He raises an eyebrow and slips a powdered berry into his mouth, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’s just turned my entire world upside down. “I thought I told you to stay away from that male.”
“Did you hear that from the sisters?” I ask.
It’s a reasonable assumption but his belly bounces with a throaty laugh in reply. “Stars, no. I’m not sure how you’ve managed it, but the sisters’ loyalty to you surpasses that which they extend to even me. They’ve been less than forthcoming with their information, on your behalf.”
I can’t help but smile at that, though the smile fades quickly from my face as I wonder what spies Felias employs at the palace.
In typical fashion, Enrik darts across the lawn to whisper something into my uncle’s ear, and I speculate if these interruptions are cleverly planned so that Felias might excuse himself at his whim. He braces himself on the arms of his chair, rising from his seat beside me. With a fist resting on the edge of the table he looks down at me, sighing heavily, he says, “The La’tari people are tired of dying needlessly. I think you should know I’ve begun to hear rumblings from beyond the southern border. I’m not sure how much longer this semblance of peace will hold.” He licks his lips, clearly uncomfortable with what he is about to tell me. “The war is soon to bereborn, and I fear for the lives of the fea. They are not as strong as they once were, and the La’tari have raised a mighty regime in your lifetime. Far greater than you or I can comprehend.”
I can hardly believe the words coming from the man in front of me, and I find myself wishing more than ever for the comfort of my blades. The La’tari trust him with my life, but every word he speaks sends a ripple of warning throughout my body.
“Are you trying to tell me that that you side with the feyn in all of this?” I ask cautiously.
It’s a bold question. One I’m likely to regret asking. If he perceives me as a threat, all he needs to do is expose me and my life will be forfeit.
“The fea,” he admits, “I’ve always been on the side of the fea.”
He looks as nervous as I feel when he turns his back to me and walks to the manor. He saidthe fea,not the feyn.But is it semantics or does he really see them as different species? He’d been brave enough to give me the truth, and maybe it’s sheer naivete when I decide not to end him purely out of caution.
I hoped to linger in the gardens for the remainder of the day but decide that it’s best to separate myself from Felias as much as possible. It’s only a matter of time before the La’tari find out what he is and end him. Death by association is not unheard of in our ranks. And even if they don’t, there is every chance the man will regret revealing himself to me and attempt to end me himself. Though I have no doubts about how that would end, I enjoy the man enough to regret the thought of it.
The guards by the palace gates say nothing as I enter the grounds, slipping into the forest that borders the western side. I stay close to the tree line, considering the growing pains of a world I’ve always lived in and never truly known, while avoiding thoughts about why I dread returning to the palace.
I’ve only delayed my inevitable run-in with the general by a day, and I have little doubt the male will corner me for an answer the moment he’s told I’ve returned. Which, if I have it my way, still gives me a little time to unravel the mess of the entire situation.
