“The sword isn’t too small just because the sheath is big enough to hold an axe.”
She turns away, and Rhion doesn’t hide his laughter. But Darian’s not smiling now. “Watch that one, Fiona,” he says. “I have her ire now, and I can handle her, but it won’t be long before she triesto hurt anyone who seems weak. And youareweak. Especially if she catches you unaware. Steer clear of her and don’t draw her attention. Everyone knows to steer clear of Corpsebinder’s Abominations, but she has powers beyond that. Don’t forget it.”
My father’s never mentioned that Corpsebinders have other powers… Is she unique? They said she was a commander, so maybe the top of the Godforged hierarchies have other abilities?
I nod to him, and once again, Rhion leads us forward. As soon as we’re in line, he says, “I’ll be at the entrance waiting for you. Remember, sign the list and get your asses out of here before either of you paint any more targets on your backs.”
The line moves quickly, though there are occasional pauses while the High Fae behind the desk chats amiably with certain individuals. There’s such a courtly feel to this entire event, not at all like humans would treat it. Then again, all the people here have been at war for nearly eighty years. Still, many of them are friendly. Almost like they’re playing games rather than trying to kill each other.
Humans at war can’t stand being near each other, much less laughing and joking. This entire room would be filled with quiet murmuring amongst separate groups rather than whatever you’d call this.
When it’s Darian’s turn, the High Fae at the desk raises an eyebrow. “Darian Emlyn. How have you been, old friend?”
“Not as good as you, it seems. I hear Nyxthos finally promoted you to logistics. A deserved promotion, no doubt.”
“Head of logistics and most everything else,” the man says. He’s relatively small and thin for a High Fae, but he’s wearing a grin that isn’t as much of a mask as most of the people here. His black hair is slowly receding, something that seems unusual in a room full of immortal beings. His hands are weathered and calloused, but there’s a finesse in them that points to his regular use of the quill rather than the sword.
“I’ll be Chamberlain to whoever wins this thing. I’ll be their right-hand man, the one to keep Dunloch and the House of Shadows running while they’re off fighting whoever.”
Darian takes the proffered quill and quickly stabs himself in the arm, drawing a thin line of blood, and he signs his name to the list in it. “You deserve it, Finley. If Echo hadn’t been so hardheaded about Morvaine, you’d have been given the title long ago.”
“May her soul rest in peace.Forever.” He grins. “Wouldn’t want to speak ill of our previous champion so soon after her passing. She wasn’t so bad, but yes, I’m glad I was promoted. That brainless goose fucker who held the Chamberlain position before… well, we don’t speak ill of the recently departed, do we?” His lips curl up in a devious smile.
Darian laughs heartily, and I glance down at my wrist. Without thinking too much about it, I stab myself with the sharpened tip. Just like Darian, a thin stream of red runs down my arm, and I quickly sign just Fiona on the parchment.
Finley squints at me. “Fiona? Who the fuck are you? What god do you serve?”
I swallow hard, trying to weasel out of this conversation, but Darian saves me. “She’s from Selithar. Her family was killed by some Mindless, and she’s joining the fight to get a bit of retribution against the Undying. Pretty handy with a knife for a human.”
Finley’s eyes open wide. “Human? With no ties? Lysara’s bloody cunt. You might as well jump off a bridge right now.”
Darian draws Finley’s attention back to him with very strong words. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, put your money on her surviving. The odds will be astronomical, and you’re set to make a fortune. She’ll survive at least the first one. That’s a guarantee.”
Finley blinks, recognizing the seriousness in Darian’s tone. “You’re not joking?”
“Not even a little. She’s… she’s lucky. Let’s just say that. Call her Veris-touched. But you should put money on her survival for at least the first trial.”
Finley has a stern look on his face as he considers Darian’s words. Instead of waiting around, Darian pulls me away from the table. “What in the thirteen hells was that about?” I whisper-yell at him.
“He’s currently the most important person under Nyxthos. He’s also a compulsive gambler, the real reason that Echo’d never give him the position of Chamberlain. Do you want him betting for or against you? Don’t you think he’d be more likely to offer a bit of help if he has his money on you surviving?”
I blink. “Oh.”
Darian breathes deep as we hurry toward Rhion. “We need every advantage we can gain. And you may not know how to do that,but I do. If you see me trying to convince people of something, do your best to play along. I know every single person on that list, and we need to play them against each other rather than have their eyes on us. Do you understand?”
I nod again. I’d expected combat, but maybe politics is a more level playing field.
“Good, now let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 6
We will not influence outcomes, as we cannot directly confront our enemies. Just as in the true war, we must use intermediaries. Our champions will be our hands, our mouths, and our blades. Even choosing our champion will not be our direct choice, for it must be best for all of us.
~Directive Four of the Pact
Fiona
My father stares at me from across our small dining room table rather than the formal one that almost never gets used. The roast partridge and potatoes in front of us are getting cold, but I won’t eat until he finally says what’s on his mind. There’s no way to avoid this conversation, so we might as well have it out.
