“To the Erabis family,” he said, not without a hint of sarcasm. “Long may they reign.”
He tipped his head back and drained the contents. The pupil in his single eye dilated and he released a satisfied exhale as the euphoric effects of the drink took hold.
“Respectfully, Matakos,” Tristan asked, “what the fuck am I doing here?”
“Please,” he set the empty bottle onto a low table with a tinkling thud, “call me Ronin. I’m hoping we’ll leave this conversation as friends. Partners, even.”
“That entirely depends on what you have to share.” Tristan’s savage smile exposed his sharp canines.
Ronin’s smarmy arrogance slid from his severe face. “They’ve asked me to recruit you.”
“Who isthey?” Tristan asked, leaning in closer.
“Don’t play dumb, Your Exiled Highness.” Tristan snarled at the honorific. “You were coy during that farce of a meeting at the Secretariat today, but I suspect you already know who we are. The Teles Chrysos. We’ve been working in the shadows since the Accords went into effect, biding our time and waiting for the moment when your family was at its weakest to strike. We didn’t dare do anything other than surreptitiously build our ranks while Leonin Erabis held power. But as soon as your weak-minded brother took the throne—”
“The Butcher of Aethalia is a member of the Teles Chrysos?”
Ronan flinched at the title, then shrugged. “People change.”
Tristan scoffed. “Is chess with mortal courtesans part of your rehabilitation plan?”
“Womenloveto play games with dangerous Fae males.” Ronin’s sly smile melted away. “And you’re not the only one who’s been acting a role lately.”
Tristan sipped his drink, savoring the biting spice that burned down his throat and bloomed warmth in his belly. “How much support do you all have?”
“Enough,” Ronin chuckled, popping his tattooed knuckles. “I’m sure this will be hard for you to believe, but your brother is not very popular on the continent. Other than this trip to the colonies, he hasn’t set foot outside Delos since he took the throne. The Windrider families who rule the territories have been begging him for support that he refuses to supply. They’re barely clinging to power, especially in Cernodas and Akti where the majority of the population are Beastrunners and Deathstalkers. One tiny push and the continent will go up in flames.
“Needless to say, our recruiting efforts have been rather successful. The growing unrest is likely one of the reasons Maksym believed his ridiculous plan to distribute tainted Delirium would work to incite a rebellion. Too bad we’ve already beaten him to the cause.”
“And what exactlyisyour cause?” Tristan asked.
“The emergence of a New Ethyrios. Balance between the species and sub-species. An end to the hierarchies and interspecies anti-propagation laws.”
“Not an unworthy endgame,” Tristan said.
“Ethyrios’s magic has been dwindling for centuries. And the Empire, in suppressing Adelphinae’s influence, is exacerbating the deterioration. As we’ve been restoring her faith, she’s been restoring the other elemental powers. Blessing our ranks with magic capable of wonders, healing more powerful than any Fae has ever known.”
“How? By cross-breeding Fae and humans?”
Ronin ran a thumb along his lips. “Though I’m not personally opposed to it, no. Those were the methods of our predecessors. Ours are a bit more…scientific. Modern times and all.”
“Was Maksym one of you then?” Tristan asked.
“At one time, yes. But he and the leaders of our movement had a falling out several years ago. We do not believe in the subjugation of humans. Maksym disagreed, so they kicked him out. But not before he benefited from our practices.”
“Which are what, exactly?”
Ronin spread his muscled arms across the back of the settee. “Join us and you’ll find out.”
Tristan grunted. “So what, you’re a supporter of humans now? After all the harm you’ve done them?”
Ronin remained calm, didn’t take the bait. “Someone important convinced me of the error of my ways.” He rubbed at his black eye patch.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You must trust me already, if you’re drinking my liquor.”
Tristan’s eyes went wide as he sniffed at the tumbler in his hand.
