23. Adair

Chapter 23

Adair

They were all meeting, and I wanted to crow in victory.

No, it wasn't done, and frankly, they'd hardly done anything more than agree to get drinks to start with—Huxley and Caspian coffee, Rain tea, and Oberon his usual bottle of water—but it was more than we'd managed before. All four of them in the same room, ready to at least start the discussion that needed to happen.

Well, I hoped they were ready to start it. We'd tried that the day before and it hadn't gone especially well.

But no, I wasn't going to dwell on that.

Ivy Dawnchaser was sitting in a chair over by the wall, drinking a cup of black coffee and ignoring everyone. Florian was notably absent. Rain's vassals were, like Ivy, sitting apart from us, in chairs that lined the wall, as though they were mere spectators. Kit Emrys was sitting at the Dawnchaser's side, looking grim and serious. He and I were the only people sitting at the table who weren't there specifically to negotiate.

Caspian was apologizing for his father's absence as he and Oberon stood in front of the table of refreshments, and Oberon was actually acting like a goddamned adult for a change.

"—really busy lately," Caspian was saying. "You know how it is, trying to look after so many people. It's a ton of work being head of a family."

Oberon nodded seriously. "It is that."

Me? I did not scoff. I didn't even make a noise or a face that implied Oberon didn't do a fucking thing to "look after" his people. If he did, Gloombringer lands wouldn't be a mass of disdainful gray, would they?

It didn't matter in this moment, because the implication was that it was acceptable that Dane had sent Caspian, and I could be nothing but grateful for Oberon's acceptance of it.

"How is the old wolf?" Oberon asked, and his tone was...sober. Not his usual emotionless bullshit, but serious, like he actually gave a damn.

His Match, Rhodri had called it. The one person whose relationship his whole life hinged upon. And that relationship was one of the ugliest I'd ever seen in my life, dark red hate.

Caspian's smile was a little strained. "He's okay. He hasn't been feeling the best lately. Another reason he didn't come up himself."

I caught my breath in shock as a fucking emotion crossed Oberon's face, and it was such a foreign thing that it looked painful. Concern. "I hope it's nothing serious."

"Nah, I'm sure he can kick it," Caspian answered.

It was a lie.

I couldn't always tell when someone was lying, but Caspian's bonds to everyone present were so new, so near to being clear, that every instant of sickly green-brown guilt was as bright as daylight. He was good at lying, I thought. His face didn't give so much as a hint that it was a lie, his affable smile firmly in place, and one might have thought he and Oberon were old friends for the facade he put up.

It was impressive, as he didn't particularly like the man. Their bond was...well fuck, it was the same as all Oberon's bonds. That gray nothingness. Some green from Oberon's end, because I thought perhaps he wanted to like Caspian. Some pale, washed-out blue from Caspian's end—pity. But largely, it was vaguely disdainful nothing, just like all of Oberon's bonds.

Caspian liked Rain. They had a bond of twisted silver and gold that wasn't especially strong yet but could easily become friendship. Impressively, Caspian was hiding it, treating Rain exactly as he treated the others in the moment: friendly, but not too friendly.

The Dawnchaser was already sitting at the table, his elbows planted firmly on either side of his coffee cup, looking irritated, as per usual. "Is there even a point to this?" When everyone turned to look at him, he threw up his arms. "Two of the stone holders aren't even present. What accord could possibly be reached?"

Rain, who'd already been sitting in a chair on the other side of the table, relaxing, set his mug of tea down on the table with a heavy thud, staring at Huxley. "I've told you repeatedly that any agreement I make will be upheld by the Moonstriker as a whole. That has not changed."

"If they take this at all seriously, they should be here," Dawnchaser hissed the last four words, and as he did, every single one of his strands, even those attached to the people nowhere near the room...shivered.

It reminded me of the way Mount Slate rumbled beneath us sometimes, but I'd never in my life seen it happen to threads before. I was staring at him and I knew it, but I couldn't look away.

What the hells had that been? What did it mean? What was going on?

Huxley snarled, baring his teeth. "What?"

For a moment I thought the demand was aimed at me, but Rain was the one he was looking at. Rain, who shrugged as though he couldn't care less what Huxley thought, then shook his head. He couldn't have seen the tremble in the threads, but he knew something, and he was ready for a fight.

I might be the only person in the room who knew it, but Rain was on edge.

Strange, that I could read a man so well when I'd only known him a few days. Unlike Caspian, it wasn't showing in his threads. No, his threads were steady as ever. His thread with Huxley was slowly turning into something sickly, a sort of off shade of orange that I'd never seen in my life and had no definition for, but his face was passive and his body language was loose and relaxed.

The only other person who was looking on Rain with interest was the assassin. His brother. Because of course he would know that something unusual was happening inside Rain, far better than I could after a few days of being acquainted. His thread was that same steady plum as before, but edged with something yellow-orange that felt like caution to me. He was concerned, but was it fear of Rain, or fear for him?

I didn't know how to explain it. He wasn't stiff, didn't seem nervous. Hells, if anything, he seemed more confident than before, and it made me want to slide under the table and have another go at his delicious cock. I could just imagine it, distracting him from the meeting with a—and now our thread was pulsating with purple, all from me, because I was distracting myself with thoughts of sex.

How unlike me.

And yet, I wanted to go right back to it.

But no.

Rain.

Rain was suspicious of Huxley. He was looking at him casually, expression almost...insouciant. His body language said the same thing, relaxed and calm, as though nothing of particular interest were happening.

They were the same, I realized. Rain's posture, his expression, all of it was the same as the purposefully casual demeanor of Kit Emrys. Rain wasn't waiting for a verbal volley; he was ready for an actual, physical fight. That was what that looked like on him.

I shivered and stared at the table. Was that sexy or terrifying?

Both?

"You okay, Lord Courtwright?" Caspian asked, friendly and perfectly pitched in tone for the situation as always. I glanced up at him. Actual concern pulsed through his bond with me, which was just like the one he had with Rain—that stranded silver-gold that meant good things for the future.

Oberon sat down heavily in the chair next to him and waved me away dismissively. "Don't worry about him. He's just fragile. Always getting sick. Always too hot or too cold or worried about his threads. Nervous personality, you understand."

Caspian nodded to Oberon, but it didn't change the concern in his bond with me.

I smiled at him. "I'm fine, Lord Sunrunner, it's just a little cold in the room."

It was an obvious lie. It wasn't cold at all. But Caspian accepted the lie with a nod, clearly understanding that it wasn't the time or place to discuss any problems I might be having. Instead, he turned to Huxley. "Like Lord Moonstriker said, I have permission to make a deal on my family's behalf. I don't see why it's a problem. Honestly, I don't know if you need to be here. It's such a small thing, isn't it? You could just leave your heir to make a deal, and Lord Gloombringer could send, I dunno, Adair or his sister, Lady Titania. I'm sure you both have lots of better things to be doing."

Again, Caspian was lying.

The man was an incredible liar. He didn't like doing it, as evidenced by the guilt pulsing through his bonds as he did so, but he was...it was breathtaking, watching him tell Huxley Dawnchaser with a straight face and relaxed body language that he could make a deal on behalf of a quarter of the Summerlands, when it was a complete lie. He didn't have a single tell that I could find.

I didn't say a word, and I wouldn't. Not now, and not later to Oberon. Maybe later to Caspian, if I could get him alone, to see if he'd tell me the truth of the matter. Possibly to Rain instead, in hope he could speak to Caspian. He might even be able to help with whatever it was.

But it barely even crossed my mind to tell Oberon before I dismissed it. Funny, how I'd almost begged the man for a scrap of emotion for years, and when he'd finally showed me one, accident though it'd been, I was turning my nose up at it.

It was too late. Oberon couldn't fix what was broken in himself or in the Summerlands, because he didn't actually care enough to try. Or at all, if you asked him. Rain and Caspian still had a chance at it. I was with them, I realized, and it was chilling. I was throwing my lot in with two men I'd known a sum total of less than three days.

Huxley pursed his lips, glaring at Caspian for a moment, clearly not convinced. That didn't make sense. Caspian was a flawless liar. I almost believed him myself, even knowing his lips were dripping with lies, seeing the evidence of it in his bonds.

The Dawnchasers carried emeralds, the stone of luck. Even if Huxley had two of the damn things, I couldn't imagine a way luck would make him able to see through Caspian's lies. In fact, he didn't even seem to think they were lies. He gave a grudging nod after a moment, he just wasn't satisfied regardless.

Why the hells was it so important that the actual heads of the families had come? I shivered and had no idea why. Rhodri was strangely silent in my head.

Caspian took his seat on the fourth side of the table, Oberon following into the seat next to me, and the four of them finally settled into a conversation about the irritations each had with their borders and previously existing agreements.

It was . . . it was exactly what I'd wanted from the summit.

They were negotiating, truly speaking with each other instead of being arrogant asses and demanding their due respect before agreeing to sit down.

It was perfect.

And yet, I didn't feel perfect. I didn't feel right at all. My eyes kept being drawn to Huxley Dawnchaser and his eternally shifting threads. My head throbbed in time with the movement as I watched it flow and change, and I knew there was something wrong there. I gripped the bottle of painkillers in my pocket, wanting so badly to take one, but still not willing to show weakness to a predator like him.

Beatings, Titania had said, and I had a moment of pity for the boy he'd been, of sadness for the man he might've become. But Huxley was in his forties now. I couldn't change him. Couldn't fix what had been done to him in his youth.

I glanced up to see Kit Emrys watching me, a knowing look in his eye. He blinked both eyes at me like a cat trying to make friends, and gave the tiniest shake of his head. Between us, there was a tiny pulsing bond that I didn't remember seeing before.

Maybe Titania had been right, that I didn't tend to pay attention to my own bonds because no one asked about them, so I only noticed them when something obvious shifted.

This bond was a pale silver. Not white. He wasn't plotting my death. He...sort of liked me. And pulsing from his end was something even warmer. Gold? Green? It was hard to say, but it wasn't bad. It was almost friendly.

I wasn't sure what to do with it, but I gave the slightest nod in return, sitting back in my chair, and continued to listen to the conversation at hand. Oberon truly wanted the Moonstriker base he'd brought up the day before closed, frightened of the notion of military experimentation close to his borders, and Rain was more than willing to close it, in exchange for some largely irrelevant trade concessions regarding tariffs Oberon didn't need anyway.

It was perfect. Just what I'd wanted.

But for some reason, I felt like a rat on a sinking ship. I'd been let into the captain's dining room, and they'd laid out the feast I'd spent my whole ratty life dreaming of. It was completely unguarded by humans. I just couldn't figure out why the whole room was listing to one side, and there was a sinking feeling in my belly.

But rats were always the first to know on ships, weren't they? Yes, the rats would escape, and I'd sit there like an ignorant child, eating this sumptuous feast laid out in front of me.

I just needed to figure out why the ship was sinking, preferably before it killed me. Then, I had to hope that I could stop it.