Chapter 26

The Alliance was even faster than she’d dared hope.

Mere hours passed between her request for a meeting and their collective agreement; from then, it was a matter of minutes. The sun was just about to rise when she donned the only dark blue dress in her possession – as close to a declaration of peace as her wardrobe could come – and left her rooms with Naxi, who had insisted on wearing a matching shade of frothy eggshell blue for the occasion.

A short night of sleep had not been nearly enough to feel all hale and hearty again. But at least Thysandra was able to walk without stumbling and talk without stammering; the persistent ache in her muscles, like the lingering effects of particularly strenuous training, was a mild nuisance in comparison. She’d fought under worse circumstances. And if all went according to plan, there would be no need for her to fight anyone at all – not for another few hours, in any case, and by then the poison would have worn off even further.

The castle was as quiet as it always was around dawn, even the prospect of violent rebellion not enough to keep most fae from their beds. Guided by Naxi’s demon senses, it was almost laughably easy to avoid the few lone soldiers patrolling the corridors on Nicanor’s behalf.

They reached their meeting spot within minutes.

Inviting five former enemies into one of the usual reception halls would have been asking for trouble. Instead, Thysandra had pointed her visitors to a location which she suspected Bereas and the majority of her army didn’t even know existed: the statue gallery at the far end of the academy wing. The Mother had banished most traces of the fae rulers preceding her to that quiet, oblong hall, and these days it was rarely visited by anyone but groups of fae younglings during history classes – which meant that, no matter how publicly accessible the gallery might be in theory, it was significantly more private than the average meeting room.

They were the first to arrive. Only the rulers of old watched them walk between the haphazard collection of pedestals in the dusty morning light – their sculpted faces haughtily expressionless, shreds of cobwebs glinting from their marble wings and fingers.

‘So many arseholes,’ Naxi said wistfully.

Thysandra choked on a laugh, the sound echoing against the vaulted ceiling.

On the far side of the hall, surrounded by high, stained-glass windows on three sides, a semi-circle of marble benches had been erected. Most days, she’d likely have remained on her feet while waiting for her guests. This morning, she was too relieved to unburden her sore legs to care much about that little piece of etiquette; she plopped down on the nearest bench as Naxi ambled around her, studying fae faces and scoffing a little at the names and epithets inscribed in the blocks of marble beneath their feet.

‘Please remember not to get involved in the discussion,’ Thysandra said, even though she was well aware that she’d said the same thing four times already during their hasty breakfast, and that Naxi had miraculously not objected even the first time.

The response was a well-deserved eyeroll. ‘Sashka.’

‘Yes, yes, you already promised you wouldn’t, but—’

‘But you’re nervous.’ Naxi hopped from one stern fae lord to the next, sticking out her tongue at them both before adding, ‘Which you don’t need to be, because I’m here.’

Too easy.

Her wings unclenched a little nonetheless.

Because the simple fact was that she had done everything she could. She had her numbers, her arguments, her strategic little lies. She knew what the five representatives wanted, and she could give it to them. Yesterday she’d almost died, yes, but they didn’t need to know that; as long as they did not know of her weakness, they couldn’t take advantage of it.

As long as she did not tell them otherwise, she was still the powerful High Lady of the Crimson Court.

She still stiffened when the click of the door broke through the dusty silence. But Naxi was here and their opponents could not possibly know of this meeting … so she sat still and waited without drawing her weapons, exposed and vulnerable on her marble bench as three pairs of feet made their way towards them through the shadows.

Tared was the first to emerge, the faint shimmer of alf magic flickering around his tall form all the more noticeable in the grey morning light. Sword on his shoulder. Hand in his pocket. Eyebrows halfway up his forehead as he glanced at the heroic sculptures around him, his thoughts visibly close to Naxi’s muttered arseholes .

Perhaps, Thysandra realised with a mortified jolt, it would have been better not to invite the lot of them to a hall stuffed full of glorious fae history.

Too late to change that now, though. So she straightened her spine, forced a smile, and prayed her voice wouldn’t tremble as she said, ‘Good morning.’

‘Tared!’ Naxi exclaimed, bouncing towards him in an excited blur of eggshell blue.

‘Morning, Naxi.’ He ruffled her hair with a grin that looked perfectly genuine, but that paled the moment he turned to Thysandra. ‘And morning, Your Majesty. Illustrious place you’ve found us here.’

She could hardly disagree with him on that .

‘It’s all the fae history the Mother tried to make us forget,’ she said anyway, because better to pretend this was a little piece of intentional symbolism than to start the meeting by admitting she hadn’t thought matters through that far. ‘Figured we’d better have this conversation in the company of the rulers who didn’t cause you centuries of trouble.’

‘Ah.’ He looked vaguely amused. ‘I’m sure they’ll be more than excited to witness this historic event, then. Don’t suppose you’ve met Delwin before?’

Too easy, again.

Was it an act of mercy, his swift pivot away from her misstep? Or did he just … not care that much?

It felt dangerous, proceeding without knowing. But the only thing that could aggravate her blunder was to linger on it, so she swallowed her questions and forced a polite nod at the tall human man stepping from the shadows. Dark-haired. Straight-faced. He wasn’t wearing the white robes that came with his position, but his name was all the information she needed.

‘A pleasure to meet you, consul,’ she said.

Delwin inclined his head with the measured composure of a trained soldier, his voice pleasantly pragmatic as he said, ‘Let us hope that will be mutual, Your Majesty.’

Tared bit down a grin behind him.

Which should have annoyed her, probably – but damn it all, coming from a magic-less human standing in the middle of the Crimson Court, she couldn’t help but appreciate the stone-faced gall of that reply. The only mortal to attend their gathering, perhaps, but clearly the White City’s consul was not a man to underestimate.

Their third companion came forward last, a more familiar face this time. Black hair braided into an intricate crown, pale features marred by two grisly scars – Nenkhet Bakarim, one of the first vampires to have openly joined the Alliance an eternity ago. Her presence was unannounced but unsurprising. It had been centuries since Bakaru himself had left the stronghold of Gar Temen; the true shock would have been the King of Kings attending this meeting .

Nenkhet’s smile seemed solely intended to display her razor-sharp canines. There certainly wasn’t any joy or fondness in it as she said, ‘Hello, Thysandra.’

Oh, gods.

This was a bad moment to realise that they hadn’t seen each other since the Mother had forced this same vampire to kneel at her feet, then laughed as she bound her magic – and much, much worse, that Thysandra had assisted her with the effort.

‘Good morning,’ she ground out all the same, because there were times and places to talk about regret and retribution, and this wasn’t one of them. ‘Take a seat, if you like.’

Nenkhet ignored that suggestion without even a sign of having heard it, standing by the side of the semicircle of benches with her head held high and her arms crossed over the leather-and-lace bodice of her dress. Tared similarly stayed on his feet, although he allowed himself to lean against the man-high pedestal beside him. Only Delwin accepted the invitation. It wasn’t until he sat down and his trousers shifted that Thysandra realised he was wearing a wooden leg – a mark of the recent battle, no doubt.

An awkward silence loomed. Naxi, thankfully, filled it by chattering to Tared about other friends and how she was coming to visit them sometime soon.

Perhaps two minutes went by before the air flickered and turned into living matter again – this time right next to the benches, which meant this newly arrived alf female must have visited the gallery before. Thysandra did not know her name. She did know the white-haired, stiff-backed phoenix female who’d been faded along with the alf – Lady Yndrusillitha, second eldest of Phurys, here on behalf of the just-reborn Lord Khailan and the rest of their council.

Yndrusillitha’s nod at Thysandra was curt and sharp. Her nod at Tared, surprisingly, was even curter and even sharper, and the smile the alf returned could have cut through solid steel – some history there, clearly, but Thysandra wasn’t given the time to speculate. Before she could even greet her guest, a third alf faded into the hall.

This one didn’t arrive quietly.

‘Morning, everyone!’ With the impressive amount of bandaging around his blond head, it might have been hard to recognise the newcomer – but that hot-blooded voice did the work instead. Last time Thysandra had heard it, its owner had been cheerfully hewing his way towards her on a battlefield. ‘Bit early for important meetings, isn’t it? Good thing I didn’t go to sleep last night, because I’d never have woken up in time for—’

‘Edored,’ Tared interrupted, his voice calm, the corners of his lips trembling.

‘What?’ The alf whipped around, almost knocking over the nymph queen he’d brought with him – Helenka of Tolya, who seemed equally torn between unwilling laughter and heartfelt exasperation. ‘Oh, right. Diplomacy. Although it’s pretty early for diplomacy, too, isn’t it? And— Oh, hello Naxi! Been a while!’

The gloomy, dignified atmosphere had somehow gone up in smoke. Delwin’s shoulders were shaking. Yndrusillitha, who had sat down two benches to the consul’s right, looked as if she was desperately trying to develop fading powers herself, and Helenka murmured something that sounded suspiciously similar to madman as she sank down on a low pedestal in her gauzy green dress.

None of them looked worried in the least, though.

And even Naxi – clever, vigilant Naxi, whose demon senses would not let a single flare of annoyance go unnoticed – beamed back at Edored without any sign of reserve or caution. As if this was perfectly acceptable behaviour for a peace-or-war meeting. As if there wasn’t any need for mitigating measures at all, before she—

Well, Thysandra admittedly wasn’t quite sure what she might do. She was hardly in a position to cause a stir and leave, was she?

But this wasn’t the Alliance as she’d known it during the war at all – disciplined, competent, a united front that had driven the Mother to rage more than once. They had sounded so perfectly businesslike in that single, unanimous letter, too. So if they were at all interested in developing decent trade relations with her, then what in the world were they doing now – letting loose the alvish equivalent of an overly excited watchdog in this diplomatic equivalent of a porcelain cabinet ?

‘… another time,’ the alf female who had brought Yndrusillitha with her was saying – her voice oddly colourless, her smile too faint to reach her pale blue eyes. ‘I think they might prefer for the two of us to get out of here, Edored.’

‘I was already leaving,’ Edored sputtered, looking genuinely offended that she hadn’t yet noticed his solemn dedication to his imminent departure. ‘You all can’t accuse me of … of un-diplomacy, you know. Good luck, Nen! You’ll do great!’

Nenkhet gave him a look Thysandra could only describe as a fond stare of death and muttered, ‘Thanks, arsehole.’

‘Hey!’ Edored protested. ‘I’m being supportive! That’s not—’

They would never find out what it wasn’t. The other alf female had unceremoniously grabbed his sleeve and faded him out of the gallery, leaving nothing but a slightly maniacal echo behind between the pillars and the pedestals.

Naxi was giggling uncontrollably into her sleeve.

‘Apologies,’ Tared said with a wry grin, although whether the excuse was aimed at Helenka or the company at large, Thysandra wasn’t sure. He didn’t sound particularly apologetic either way. ‘Needed to quickly find someone who would keep his mouth shut to the other houses. Let’s talk about—’

Yndrusillitha made a sound that could have been a scoff, if she had considered scoffing a proper activity for a lady. ‘ He is supposed to keep his mouth shut?’

What in the world?

Were they going to start fighting with each other now?

‘Yes?’ The sudden politeness in Tared’s voice was an unmistakable sign of alarm. Every single time alves had unexpectedly developed manners around Thysandra, hell had broken loose the next moment. ‘Something about family being there when it counts – not that I’d expect that to make much of an impression on you, of course.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ The phoenix’s widening eyes were the only outward sign of her outrage – but outrage it was , and she didn’t seem to care in the slightest that she was in the presence of an ally-to-be. ‘ It was my impression that I’d been invited to a diplomatic gathering, not to a lecture from—’

‘Um,’ Thysandra interrupted, managing only with the greatest of efforts not to frantically look back and forth between them like a child trying to figure out the rules of some brand new sports game. What for the gods’ sake was happening ? ‘Would … would this be a good moment to return to the matter at hand, perhaps?’

Yndrusillitha’s nostrils flared. ‘An excellent suggestion.’

‘Absolutely brilliant,’ Tared dryly agreed. ‘In fact, I vaguely recall proposing something similar myself, before we were regrettably interrupted. Let’s get down to business, then. Where would you suggest we start, Your Majesty?’

Somehow, that title got more unnerving every single time he used it.

It sounded like a joke. Not even a malicious one, the way people like Bereas and Orthea had sneered it to her face – rather, the sort of casual quip one might exchange with fellow soldiers after receiving an unexpected promotion. As if her life didn’t depend on the outcome of this meeting. As if he didn’t bloody well know they were putting her right in the line of fire with the conditions they’d posited in their letter.

‘Actually, I do have a place to start,’ Helenka said, crossing her ankles on the low pedestal where she’d seated herself. Her shimmering, pupil-less green eyes were narrowed a fraction. ‘Would the High Lady care to explain to us just why this meeting had to take place on such short notice? I’m still catching up on a few decades of lost sleep.’

‘I’m sure certain alves agree with you,’ Nenkhet muttered under her breath, and Tared snorted a laugh.

Helenka ignored the both of them. ‘Thysandra?’

‘The … the matter is we’re running out of cells.’ She didn’t dare to look at Naxi as she let the lie fall from her lips – a lie she’d prepared for, yet somehow it had sounded a lot more reasonable when she’d expected them to show up with stern faces and stiff shoulders, armed to the teeth with regulations and demands. ‘Our efforts to arrest the individuals on your list have been unexpectedly successful. We could wait longer to capture the rest, of course, but we’re already seeing people go into hiding, and … ’

‘Really?’ Helenka interrupted, tapping her chin with a dark, clawlike hand. ‘How interesting. I assumed the Crimson Court would have more capacity than that to hold prisoners.’

An accusation?

Or merely a request for clarification?

If she had understood a damn thing in this entire conversation, she might have been able to read the queen’s voice. Now she wished for the first time that she hadn’t told Naxi to stay out of the discussion – because clearly Naxi knew these people in the capacity of messy, bickering allies, and why hadn’t she thought to make use of that?

She glanced to her side anyway, hoping to catch the demon’s eye. But Naxi had wandered a few rows of statues away and stood making faces at a fae lady with a skull in her sculpted hands, paying no visible attention to the rest of the company.

Leaving Thysandra to figure out all by herself why these people were suddenly treating her as if they’d forgotten they were enemies in the first place.

‘Speaking frankly,’ she said, taking the gamble before the silence could grow too damning, ‘I think we all know the Mother wasn’t in the habit of taking prisoners. She never seems to have had need for that many cells.’

Helenka quirked up a coppery red eyebrow, then shrugged, as if to say, good point .

‘And I do understand correctly that you’re willing to hand over these prisoners to us?’ Tared added, hands in his pockets, but his grey eyes too sharp for the nonchalance to be at all convincing. ‘Assuming we try to give them fair trials before we chop off their heads, that is.’

Fair trials .

How bad an impression would she make if she admitted she didn’t give a damn about those trials at all?

‘That is correct,’ she said, drawing her wings tightly against her shoulders to keep them from flaring out. They didn’t need to know how much it would cost her, speaking those words. How much she needed to do it anyway. ‘The conditions posited in your letter did sound reasonable to me. ’

‘That is rather convenient,’ Yndrusillitha said tartly, and although the words were approving, the tone was the opposite.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Thysandra said.

‘You seem unexpectedly willing to grant our every request without significant negotiation,’ the phoenix clarified – or at least her expression suggested it ought to be a clarification, while as far as Thysandra could see, it was mostly an expansion of the number of words used. ‘Which is, one might say, a stark contrast to some of our previous interactions. It would be commendable, of course, if we could come to an agreement easily, but one cannot help but wonder what else might be driving you to—’

‘What we’d like to know,’ Helenka bluntly interrupted, ‘is how desperate you are, exactly.’

Yndrusillitha gave a small, disapproving cough, but did not dispute that summary.

Nor did any of the others around the circle, five pairs of eyes watching Thysandra with eerily similar, sceptical anticipation – so there was the animosity after all, then. Messy and unpolished animosity, perhaps, but animosity all the same. And only then did it dawn on her – that they did not allow her to see the chaos behind their united facade because they no longer considered her an enemy.

Rather, because they no longer considered her a threat .

Gods have mercy.

How much did they know? Had Inga told her sister of the grain scarcity, perhaps? Or had the Alliance simply run their own calculations, based on the food tributes taken from their islands over the years, and arrived at the same conclusions as Gadyon and his administrators had?

Did they have the faintest idea that they could kill her by simply leaving this meeting without any firm conclusions?

The sun was rising outside, dawn colouring the historic events pictured in the stained-glass windows shades of orange and pink. A few hours to go before the court started looking for her. A few hours in which to arm herself against their fury, and the allies she needed might laugh in her face.

Sweat itched between her shoulder blades.

‘It doesn’t have much to do with desperation,’ she said, forcing herself to speak impassively, a calm close to boredom. Panic was weakness, and they thought her much, much too weak already. ‘The simple fact is that these fae used unprompted and unnecessary violence against your peoples. It seems more reasonable to let them bear the brunt of the consequences than to let the whole court, innocent members included, suffer on their behalf.’

‘Very reasonable,’ Nenkhet said in Helenka’s place. A cold sort of amusement glinted in the vampire’s dark eyes as she tilted her head. ‘What if we added your own name to the list?’

On the other side of the hall, a small, barely audible, but unmistakable squeal of outrage rose from the direction Naxi had wandered in.

‘I’m not sure I understand your meaning,’ Thysandra said, her mouth dry. ‘I hope I never used the sort of excessive cruelty against any of you that would justify my own arrest.’

‘You did assist the Mother in binding every single one of us,’ Helenka pointed out from Nenkhet’s side, with a directness that wasn’t so much unfriendly as unflinching. ‘One could consider that a direct act of aggression against us, no?’

The worst thing was that it wasn’t untrue at all.

Really, it was a miracle they hadn’t come clamouring for her head yet.

‘One could,’ she forced herself to agree – necessary agreement, but it felt like laying her own neck on the chopping block. ‘If so, though, it’s an act of aggression I am trying sincerely to make up for.’

Yndrusillitha pursed her lips, sceptism drawn sharply in every line on her face. ‘And as I’ve said before, your repentance is timed rather auspiciously.’

The silence that followed spoke volumes – the pointed lack of objections.

What in the world was she supposed to respond to that? Don’t worry, my regret is entirely genuine – as if her word would convince a single one of them. Just give me a chance, and I’ll show you proof of my good intentions – little good that would do, if they had already decided between the five of them that they wouldn’t be giving her even the slightest benefit of the doubt.

The truth, of course …

I’m starting to learn this court broke so many versions of me I might have been. I’m finally picking up the shards.

But they already didn’t take her seriously, and admitting to being a flailing wreck would be the final nail in that coffin. They weren’t looking for an ally who might collapse at any moment. They were looking for an ally they could trust – and hell, had she still not learned how much damage she could do by sharing too much with the wrong people?

‘May I ask …’ Careful, now. She couldn’t be too defensive. Not too offensive, either. ‘May I ask what exactly the purpose of this meeting is to you? Because from your letter, I was under the impression we would be discussing trade agreements. If you’d rather dive into the details of my goals and motivations, I’d have liked to know in advance.’

‘The trouble,’ Tared said, still lounging against his pedestal, ‘is they’re the same thing.’

She blinked. ‘Care to elaborate?’

‘Our enthusiasm to work with you is entirely dependent on your goals.’ He shrugged. ‘Assisting the Crimson Court to make sure it isn’t driven to desperate violence – that we can do. Assisting the Crimson Court so it can quietly regain its former strength and attack us again is … a less attractive prospect.’

‘Another war is the last thing I want,’ Thysandra ground out.

‘Well, that’s good news,’ he dryly said. ‘And how about the rest of your court?’

Bereas.

Her entire army.

The poison in her wine.

Any moment, now, Naxi could speak up on the other side of the hall and inform her friends this place was a hellhole about to cause the rest of the world a whole damn lot of trouble. She should speak up, really. But the gallery remained painfully devoid of demon voices, and so the lies were all Thysandra’s to tell .

‘There are always dissenting parties,’ she said – a laughable platitude for Symeon’s knife diving at her, for a clamouring mob bringing her inches from death. Her voice did not waver as she added, ‘For now, they are under control.’

Lies.

Filthy lies.

Then again … why should she care? They weren’t her allies. She didn’t owe them her honesty any more than they owed her theirs.

‘And you would agree that any treaties between your court and our people become voided as soon as any member of your court attacks us again?’ Helenka said, and Thysandra could have sworn those shimmering gemstone eyes were taking note of every twitch of doubt to show on her own treacherous face.

Would she agree?

She couldn’t guarantee a single thing – that was the ugly truth of it. She didn’t even know where Bereas was hiding, for hell’s sake! He might just have set up camp half an hour away from the nearest nymph isle, ready to raid it for food as soon as he felt like it. But telling them that much, admitting she was hanging on to her crown by the tips of her fingers …

They would laugh in her face.

And she needed their pledges to save her own sorry life. She needed something, anything , to prove to the more peace-minded members of her court that she was the one who could give them what they so desperately wanted.

‘Yes.’ The voice coming from her mouth was Old Thysandra’s voice, somehow – that voice that had assured the Mother time and time again that she was happy, really perfectly happy, to serve the Crimson Court with every shred of her body and soul. A voice she hadn’t realised she hated – but gods help her, what else could she do? ‘That would be a reasonable condition, I’d say.’

It was. That was the worst of it.

Did that mean she was the unreasonable one between the six of them ?

But it was only a betrayal if she failed to keep the peace … and she could still very well succeed. She’d have to keep the Alliance’s condition a secret, of course. Telling the court that a single attack would ruin the whole agreement was almost an invitation for a few rebel fae to go ahead and do just that. But if she kept it quiet, if she simply didn’t tell anyone outside this hall …

‘Alright,’ a male voice broke through her frenzied thoughts, and it took her a moment to realise that it wasn’t Tared’s. Delwin had opened his mouth for the first time, healthy leg and wooden leg crossed before him, an expression of wary resolve on his tanned face. ‘If that’s where we stand, let’s talk numbers.’

It took a moment for that to land.

Even the other four representatives seemed caught by surprise for a moment of stunned silence.

‘Already?’ Nenkhet said sharply, scarred face contorted in a frown. ‘Isn’t that a little quick to—’

‘Finite lifespans,’ the consul of the White City interrupted with a laconic shrug. ‘You can go on bickering for two more decades if you like, but I might be dead by the time you’re done. Also, I have an island to repair.’

Thank every dead and living god in the world. Never in her life had Thysandra thought she’d be so grateful for anyone’s mortality.

‘I’m willing to talk numbers,’ she said and prayed the tone of her voice did not betray the truth – that she was not willing but painfully, shamefully desperate. ‘Are there any proposals you’d like to make?’

‘I can only speak on behalf of the White City and the dozen or so human isles I’ve visited so far,’ Delwin said, a mild meticulousness to his words. ‘That said, I’m willing to suggest these same arrangements to the others. We are willing to sell you a quarter of the grain and other crops that were taken as tributes by the empire – you’re only a third of the full empire, and I’m sure you can do with a little less feasting.’

Her lips twitched up despite her best attempts to keep them down. ‘We can, thank you.’

‘Current market prices in the north of the archipelago are about ten coppers for a bushel of wheat, I’ve been informed.’ His small grimace suggested this had been the first time in his life he’d been forced to dive into the minutiae of grain prices. ‘We can stick to that, as far as I’m concerned. The only additional price I’d ask is at least one year of help restoring the city and other isles that were damaged over the course of the war.’

And that was all?

Gold and copper coins might be a valuable commodity for the human market, but not for the fae isles, where every metal could be forged with a single blast of yellow magic and the economy ran on favours and bargains. He had to know she could afford an endless supply of his money. And city repairs … blue magic, nothing else. Finding a dozen mages willing to take that upon themselves, in exchange for appropriate rewards, should be a relatively painless affair.

Which meant …

They had their deal?

Golden sunlight was pouring in through the stained-glass windows, the court was waking up around her, and she had what she needed to survive the day. The others might follow. They might not, and it would still be fine. The human isles had always been the court’s primary source of food; this would tide them over until spring, at the very least.

‘We can do that,’ she heard herself say, relief pounding in her ears. ‘We can absolutely do that. If there are no further caveats, I believe we’re—’

The hall abruptly darkened.

As if a raincloud had pulled across the sun … but it wasn’t a cloud that moved outside the windows, dull shapes shooting back and forth behind the coloured glass. A winged silhouette— Another silhouette, this one closer—

‘Watch out !’ Naxi shrieked.

The sunlight turned a blinding red.

And with a deafening crash, every single gallery window exploded in a razor-sharp shower of glass.