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“Getting there.” I drop onto the bed and arrange myself against the pillows. “I think I need a nap before I can face any more diplomacy today.”
He smiles. “Rest. You have plenty of time before dinner.”
I close my eyes, allowing exhaustion to pull me under.
When I wake, the light has shifted, and late afternoon shadows reach across the floor. Sterling sits in a chair by the window, reading a slim volume bound in dark leather.
I stretch, feeling more clearheaded. “What time is it?”
“About an hour before dinner.” He closes the book. “You slept the whole day away. You must have needed the rest.”
I swing my legs off the bed, moving to the wardrobe where my clothing has been unpacked. I select a formal gown suitable for a foreign court. More ornate than the tunic and breeches I’d rather wear, but I want to make a good impression.
As I dress, I feel Sterling’s eyes on me, appreciative but thoughtful.
“You’re worried.” It’s not a question.
I nod while fastening the last clasp. “I’m not built for this, Sterling. I want to hit something. Or stab something. Or set something on fire.”
“I’ve noticed.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward. “Your right hand twitched toward your nonexistent sword approximately every three minutes at breakfast.”
I grimace. “That obvious?”
“Only to me.” He catches my hand as I pass him and gently gathers me into his lap. “Lark, you’re doing great. Better than anyone else would in your position.”
“Thank you. But I still wanted to pitch those arrogant fuckers out the window, one by one.” I relax enough to wrap my arms around his head and hug it to my chest. “Perhaps in small groups, for efficiency.”
Sterling chuckles while extracting himself from my hold. “How many do you think you could handle at once?”
The question brings me back to reality. I’m not actually going to decapitate foreign dignitaries, no matter how tempting. “It would be easier just to feed them to the dragons. All I’d have to do is stop dampening so the dragons can feel everything I’m feeling, and then…”
A knock at the door interrupts us. Sterling’s arms tighten briefly before releasing me. “Come in.”
I settle into my own chair as Agnar enters, followed by Rafe.
“Guards at the door hassled us. Insisted that we knock.” Agnar heaves an exaggerated sigh. “But based on the way you two split apart when we came in, now I’m thinking I should thank them. There are some things that my delicate eyes just don’t need to see.”
Rafe snorts, tugging at his collar in discomfort. He’s still getting used to Agnar’s blunt comments.
“Actually,” Sterling’s lip curls in amusement, “Lark was talking about the most practical way to take out some troubling individuals.”
Agnar stops in front of me. “Has anyone ever told you you’re violent? I don’t know if having that much rage inside is healthy. Maybe you should work on that.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?” I offer my sweetest, most innocent smile.
Agnar roars with laughter while Sterling shakes his head.
Rafe mumbles something I can’t quite parse before clearing his throat. “So sorry to intrude on whatever it is you were really doing. But we came to ask about the meeting. We heard some servants gossiping about a scene between the Kamorians and Meridians. How bad was it?”
I reach for the side table where a decanter of amber liquid sits alongside crystal glasses. “Anyone care for a drink?”
When everyone nods, I pour a measure into each glass and pass them around. I take a healthy swallow from my own glass.
The spirit burns pleasantly going down, warming me from the inside. It’s a local specialty, distilled from a grain that grows only on the rocky slopes of Tír Ríoga. As the others drink, Sterling and I relay how the first meeting with the other delegates broke down before it could even officially start and how we’ve agreed to attend a prayer meeting tomorrow morning to seek guidance from the gods.
Agnar settles into a chair, stretching his long legs out before him. “The ceremony tomorrow…you think it will help?”
I snort. “About as much as spitting on a forest fire.”
