Morin stops her pacing, eyes flickering up to me. “Besides the fact that we have the King’s daughter? It’s no concern, Aym. The noughts were desperate. They were starving. Magnus has offered them an outcropping of land to hunt and farm. They will not wish to sully our alliance.”
“And all of this had to come with the sacrifice of the Horned God’s line?” Veylor asks, unconvinced.
“It’s hardly a sacrifice,” Morin snorts. “Or were you intending to offer up one of your own daughters to the Horned God’s line?”
Veylor goes very still and silent and the idle chatter around the table quiets. “None of you?” Morin asks as her gaze guides around the table. “That’s what I thought, Veylor. Nightshade has been placed in a precarious situation. One might say he must pay penance for the sins of his mother. It is she, after all, who ruined his line. No Scion is going to jump at the opportunity.”
“There are other ways of paying penance that don’t come with the sacrifice of his line,” Veylor argues. “And, with the disappearance of Imenand we need to assume he’s now the very last of his line.”
“The marriage was paramount to establishing our loyalty with Eden,” Morin drones.
“We have no loyalty with noughts!” The yell comes from a man at one of the outer tables. Several voices rise up in agreement.
“The marriage was paramount to establishing trust in our alliance. And, we’ve already agreed that no Scion is jumping at the opportunity.”
“It should still be a Magi,” Aym objects.
“It’s the loss of his line you most object to?”
Both Aym and Veylor nod in agreement.
“Let me make a proposal then,” Morin says. “What if we allow the prince to participate in this year’s Rite? Let the Gods decide who’s best to carry his heirs and he can take them as his second wife. He’s only half Scion, after all.”
A second wife?
I steal another glimpse of Sitri to see if he looks pleased. His expression remains indecipherable. I don’t know why the concept has my stomach twisting into knots. More muttering ensues from the table below.
“And, who knows? Maybe the Gods agree his line goes with the nought,” Morin says delightfully. “I’m sure you all have heard about their firebranding. How long has it been since that happened, Veylor?”
The chatter from the table sounds more in agreement this time than not. Veylor pulls his chair out and slumps into it, shaking his head. “He will participate in the Rite, then?” he clarifies suspiciously.
“He’ll participate in the Rite,” Morin ensures him. “Shall we eat dinner now?” Polite laughter reverberates around the room and I sneak another glance at Sitri. He’s still wearing that same blank look but his shoulders are tense and his jaw flexes.
I jolt again when the empty plate before me suddenly fills with food. Ignoring the plate, I reach for the wine glass as the effects have now dwindled. The effect isn’t as pronounced this time and I drain the glass to chase it. As soon as the empty glass meets the table it refills again. I eagerly bring it back to my lips, taking down half of it before slapping it back to the table.
With the relaxing aid of wine I feel brave enough to ask him a question even with the coldness he’s exuding. “Is that a friend of yours?” I gesture down to the man, Veylor, who had argued for his line.
Sitri stares straight ahead.
I don’t have friends, pet.
His lips don’t move but I hear the words clear as day inside my head. My lips part in horror. No, he can’t be in my head.Are you inside my head?I think. No response. His eyes flicker to mine for the briefest of seconds and I see the faintest trace of amusement.
“Are you inside my head?” I voice out loud this time. I catch a couple twitches of his fingers at his side.
Technically, it's more like your ear.
I lift a hand to rub at my left ear. Now that he’s said it I can feel the faintest trace of magic hovering there. I glower in his direction. “You don’t want to be seen talking to me?” I whisper.
His frown deepens.I don’t want to be overheard.
Overheard speaking to a nought, he means. “There’s no one even close.”
He wriggles his fingers. It takes me a few seconds to translate. Right, magic. “You mean someone could use magic to hear us from far away?”
Yes.The word feels like a tickling hiss and I raise my hand to scratch at my ear.
“What’s the Rite?”
