By the time he went down to meet the elves for supper, he was feeling somewhat better, his raging headache reduced to mere tension in his neck and shoulders. To his great annoyance, Lucyan had still not returned—he knew his brother had said nightfall, but Drystan had hoped he would be back sooner so he wouldn’t have to endure these negotiations alone. Lucyan was far better at this sort ofthing.
The elves were already waiting in the dining room when he arrived—two men and two women. They rose as he entered, and he greeted them individually, shaking their hands and noting their cold stares and smug smiles.Perhaps they’d been taking lessons from Arolas,Drystan thought as he seated himself at the head of the table. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn the prince had picked the delegates himself, or at least nudged his father into selecting the ones of his choosing. Rumor had it that the High King had not been himself since he’d jailed Ryolas—it was very likely that, in his grief, it was far easier for Arolas to manipulate him than it had been in thepast.
The five of them made small talk as they were served a full seven-course meal, starting with a clear, spicy soup and working their way to the main entrée, a tender roast duck that melted in the mouth, served with new potatoes and a side of cabbage sprouts. The tension in the room was so thick, Drystan could have sliced it with a serving spoon, and it only seemed to grow the closer they got to the end of themeal.
Finally, when the table had been cleared and dessert was brought out, the conversation turned to business. “Thank you for this splendid meal,” Lord Parkas, a raven-haired elf with a long, hooked nose, said. “Your hospitality is muchappreciated.”
“It’s the least I can do after you’ve traveled all this way,” Drystan said graciously. “I hope you’ve found your roomscomfortable.”
“We have,” Lady Maliwood, a gray-eyed elf with fire-red hair cropped close to the nape of her neck, said. “It’s a shame we’ll only be enjoying them for a single evening, but we must be on our way in themorning.”
“Of course.” Drystan inclined his head. “I assume you have a list of terms drawnup.”
The delegates nodded. “Pre-signed by the king,” Lord Thranar said, pulling a scroll from his sleeve. He passed it up the table to Drystan. “Sign it now, and you’ll have your brother and your Dragon’s Gift safe and sound in the Keep walls by tomorrownight.”
The thought sent a pang of longing through Drystan, but he hid it behind a mask of indifference as he opened the scroll. Sure enough, King Andur’s seal was affixed to the bottom, and there was a line for Drystan to sign as well. Andur had assumed that he was king after what Drystan had said to Lady Valenhall, so no other signatures were required, though he would have to speak to the council before he signed off onanything.
He wondered how things would work once the four of them were reunited. Would all of them have to sign off on everything? Or would they each be delegated to handle certain types of matters, and only ones of the utmost importance would require a vote between them? They would have to hash all that out when Dareena and Alistairreturned.
One thing at a time, Drystan,he told himself, and pushed the thought out of his mind. He carefully read the demands, and his eyes grew wider with every line. The salient pointswere:
That Dragonfell give its unconditionalsurrender.
That the Dragon Force be reduced to a quarter of its current number and only used to defend Dragonfell’sborders.
That during this time, Dragonfell will allow itself to be occupied by the Elven Host, who would provide “protection” from outsidekingdoms.
That a permanent envoy from Elvenhame be installed in Dragonfell’scourt.
That Dragonfell will pay the sum of a hundred thousand gold crowns for the safe return of Alistair and Dareena, plus a ten percent tax for the next five hundred years in warreparations.
“This is absurd!” Drystan exclaimed. He snapped the scroll shut and handed it back to the delegates, resisting the urge to tear it into tiny scraps and shove it down their throats. “A hundred thousand gold crowns,plusten percent? Your king is out of hismind.”
“I believe it isyourking who has recently lost his mind, not ours,” Lady Eanor, the delegate sitting on his left, said with a smirk. “Our king is quite well, and he understands how valuable your Dragon’s Gift is. He said to tell you that if the terms for their release are unpalatable to you, that he will accept fifty thousand crowns instead, and that Alistair would be released in ten years after working off the remainder of thedebt.”
“And if I refuse?” Drystan asked, sounding far calmer than hefelt.
“Then you will never see them again,” Lord Parkas saidsimply.
Dead silence descended upon the room as Drystan frantically scrambled for a solution. Even if he did recover the treasure, did they really have enough to cover such an outlandish sum? He would do anything to get Dareena back, but the thought of beggaring the kingdom…and not to mention the ridiculous request about quartering theirarmy…
“What if I paid the ransom in land instead of gold?” Drystan finallysaid.
The delegates exchanged surprised glances. “What land do you have to give?” Lord Thranar asked. “Are you prepared to relinquish part of Dragonfellitself?”
“No,” Drystan said. “But there is a province in the west called Dawnfall that we conquered some centuries ago. Though it belongs to us, we do not technically consider it a part ofDragonfell.”
“Dawnfall is not a very large province,” Lady Eanor said with some disdain. “Surely you could offer us somethingbetter?”
“I would also be willing to throw in Kalakas Island,” Drystansaid.
The elves leaned in, their eyes gleaming with interest. Kalakas Island had belonged to them some two thousand years ago before the inhabitants had declared their independence and managed to free themselves from elven rule. Not fifty years later, Dragonfell had swooped in and taken it for their own, and the elves had wanted it back eversince.
“I must say, I am quite surprised by your counteroffer,” Lady Maliwood finally said. “It is well-known that dragons hoard their gold jealously, but they are even more possessive of their land. Why is it that you would rather not payus?”
Drystan shrugged. “As I said, those two pieces of land are not truly part of Dragonfell, and Kalakas Island was originally an elven territory. My father was a warmonger, no doubt about it, but I assure you, my lords and ladies, that my brothers and I do not share his bloodthirsty tendencies. I throw in Kalakas Island in the hopes that you will consider it a gesture of goodwill. I will, of course, insist upon certain trade agreements, but overall I think it is quite a gooddeal.”
There was another beat of silence as the elves considered this. “We are not authorized to negotiate territory or trade concessions,” Lord Parkas finally said. “We will need to send a missive to our king and wait forinstructions.”
