Her read on the situation was admirable. “I’m not sure I appreciate your use of adjectives.”
Ander considered her. “I see your logic.”
“The queen knows him.” Cara’s gaze cut to me, unapologetic about her assessment. “He’ll back down when he thinks a fight isn’t worthwhile and try another tactic. Even if that means what most of us would termrunning away.”
I continued to feel uncomplimented, though I was impressed Cara had read me so well.
“Lightbringer is going to adore her,”Shadowbane murmured, pride rising in the same way dragons sometimes puffed themselves up, holding their heads high and wings spread. He felt he had accomplished something in preventing me from making a total mess of things with Cara. Perhaps he was correct.
“Good thinking,” Ander admitted. “I’ll give you your fight. You come in too hot, I call it, we flirt with violence, you make her calculation, and escape.”
I didn’t love the entire concept, but I nodded. To Cara, I added, “We’ll leave after this Hunt. As soon as we’ve had our fight.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Ander met my gaze across the table. “Last favor, Fear.”
Eleven
Fear
The Hunt ended with the noise of a crowd that had seen enough violence to be satisfied. Clan banners moved through the arena as their members took stock of what the Hunt had cost them and what they’d taken from it.
Usually, either Bismyth or Amber took the Hunt. I didn’t care too much for winningthesegames of the queen’s, but Ander did, and historically, I enjoyed frustrating him. Otherwise, he was cursedly smug.
There was cheering from Malachite today, their banner swaying in their wild exuberance. They had not developed the appropriate restraint of those who were not surprised by victory. I congratulated them anyway; I’d been working on bringing Malachite’s second to my side.
When Obsidian returned from bowing, their banners crisp and faces empty, Seine passed without deigning to acknowledge me. He was fond of snubbing me, and I was fond of finding it amusing. Akia was at his side.
Good. If Akia was here, she would not be riding north tonight. Which meant Colm was leading Obsidian. I knew Colm well. He was easy to predict, even for Obsidian.
I moved through the edges of Bismuth. I had warned Anayla and Asrael to watch and not intervene. I had been more specific with Dairen, whose loyalty could be impulsive and expressed through breaking bones. I didn’t need a true war with Clan Amber.
Ander stood with Cara at his side. That always rankled me, favor or no. I didn’t like seeing him with her.
The arena floor was still clearing around us. There would be many witnesses and the queen’s spies still lingering. Ander had chosen well.
He’d also chosen well to maximize my embarrassment and his pleasure.
I stopped at a distance that was not conversational. “Ander.”
He looked at me with familiar weariness. “What do you want?”
“To speak to Cara. Alone.”
Around us, movement was slowing, the crowd having identified something worth watching.
“Cara is one of my clan. What you say to her, you say in front of me.” He gave me the pitying look that tempted me to real violence. “You wouldn’t understand. You have never had a clan, Fear. You have had a game board.”
Well. He was certainly dedicated to making this look as if he had provoked a fight. “I’m not going to have this conversation in the middle of the arena floor.”
“Mm. You lose power when you have to speak to several people who all have different fractions of your truth and fractions of your lies.” He offered me a smile that was a baring of teeth. “So, you’ll speak to my clan here or not at all.”
“Ander—”
“You want to take her, even though I won her. You’ve wrapped it in”—he gestured, a short, dismissive movement—“whichever version of the plan she’s seen. And whatever she’s agreed to, she’s agreed to because you’re very good at making your pawns feel like they have a choice as you move them across the board.”
“Cara is not a pawn.”
