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“I’d never dare to miss one of your dinners.” I would have, once, but I didn’t want to disappoint my bride. Not again.

A knock at the door cut the exchange short. “Who could it be, at this hour?” Damon asked. “An emergency?”

It was a possibility. We didn’t receive guests. Word of Thalia’s arrival had spread, and patients came more regularly. But they never came this late in the evening, not when they still feared the Blighted One might eat them.

Thalia’s brow furrowed, ever so slightly. She did that often, when she heard things I couldn’t. “No. I don’t think it’s a patient at all.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Not a patient meant someone else had business with me. And that usually meant trouble.

Someone knocked again. “I’ll answer it, Ambassador,” Bion offered, and left the room without waiting for my permission.

My snakes coiled tighter around my shoulders, hissing in agitation. “We don’t like this. We should kill them.”

Kill them. That was promising. My snakes always sensed threats before I did, and they were never wrong. I hadn’t even greeted my mysterious guests, and the serpents were already murderous. I’d been hoping for a nice, quiet dinner.

Bion returned and stopped in the doorway. He bowed low, in a way he never bothered to do for me. “My lord Eryx. My lady Thalia. Lord Phaedrus is here to see you.”

“Step aside, Bion. Your master knows who I am.”

Even if Bion hadn’t announced him, I would have recognized that obnoxious voice. Lord Phaedrus was one of the satyr clan elders who’d negotiated the treaty between Asphodelia and the Korinos Wilds. Or rather, he’d been one of its fiercest opponents. He didn’t like me, and he’d never made a secret of it.

I’d forced his hand because his people needed me, but I’d also agreed to meet regularly with the clans. Clearly, he took that to mean he could arrive at Petrion whenever he pleased.

Phaedrus walked into the hall, followed by two other satyrs. I stood, unimpressed with his ridiculous display. “Lord Phaedrus. I’m afraid we didn’t receive notice of your arrival.”

“Ambassador,” Phaedrus said. “We didn’t want to trouble your household with something so official. We were passing by, and people have been speaking of the shrine maiden singing here.” His voice warmed as he addressed Thalia. “Naturally, I wanted to hear how you were settling in, my dear.”

“Thank you for your interest, My Lord,” Thalia answered. “We’ve just begun dinner. You’re welcome to join us. Kallisto’s made enough for all of us.”

Bion fetched chairs while Kallisto brought more bowls. Phaedrus and his companions sat at the table, barely acknowledging the dryad.

“People have been speaking of your shrine, Thalia,” Phaedrus began. “I confess I didn’t expect to find one flourishing this close to the dead lands.”

“Neither did I,” she replied. “But the Forests are here, and people have started coming.”

“They must be relieved to find you.”

They were. Some asked for her before they’d even crossed the threshold, and I’d heard how gently she welcomed them. Phaedrus might actually make himself useful if he carried word of that beyond the families already coming here.

Then again, that was about as likely as Bion deciding to shave his beard. I doubted Phaedrus had come here to ask about Thalia’s healing practices, or to help her with anything at all.

“And your rooms?” Phaedrus prodded, just as I’d expected. “Some of this house must be quite uninhabitable after so many years of neglect. We wouldn’t want you enduring hardships that could be avoided.”

The currents of magic around Thalia pulsed with displeasure. She never liked anyone making a fuss about her physical comfort. To her, that was not what mattered about Petrion. “My rooms are comfortable. Eryx has been very accommodating.”

“I’m sure he has,” Phaedrus replied, “but a shrine maiden gives up enough in leaving her community. We wouldn’t want—”

“She’s just told you she’s comfortable,” Bion pointed out, dropping any pretense of politeness. “Pass the bread, Damon.”

I pressed my lips together, unwilling to laugh and give Phaedrus an excuse to keep talking. Beside me, Thalia made a small sound into her cup. At least I wasn’t the only one enjoying Bion’s manners.

One of Phaedrus’s companions cleared his throat. “Was it here that the woodcutter was treated? My sister heard he’d breathed in poisonous spores.”

“That would be me.” Damon passed the bread across. “I almost died that day.”

“Thank the Forests you found their maiden, then,” Phaedrus observed.

“And the ambassador,” Kallisto added firmly. “We needed both of them.”