“You should know, darling,” Tereille said.
“The White Guard,” Numair said, fingers still digging into my shoulders.
“Finally, someone speaks reason,” I muttered.
“The White is neutral,” Édouard said.
“Not if their High Lord comes to the field, they aren’t,” Tereille said. “So we’re gambling then? At least the next few days won’t be boring.”
I rubbed a hand on my forehead, muttering something about positive people. “We wait to see what our allies say.”
High Lords Manuelle Wyvenne and Louvenia Ramonne arrived a short time later with their Heirs and commanders.
“If it seems we will lose all, signal me,” Manuelle said, “and I will call a wyvern.”
Everyone felt a rush of flames in the silence. “Very well,” I said slowly. “Then are we decided?”
Despite my reservations—I wasn’t the only one, but we were the minority—by the end of the heated discussion, several dozen glittering feral gazes staring at me, I bowed my head in submission to the consensus.
If they wanted to do this mad thing, I would do it with them. We lived together, we’d die together.
“We’ll attack,” I said. “We’ll storm the realms’ cursed white palace, and if we all die, at least we die as Fae, and not as vermin crushed under the heel of a tyrant.”
A roar of approval. And, gods help me, the eager bloodlust swept me along in a tidal wave of anticipation.
“This has to be about more than thinning their ranks oritisn't worth the risk,” I warned when we all settled down. I met everyone’s stare, starting with the Lords. “Your task will be to thin the forces, and then retreat before you're overwhelmed. My task will be to kill the Prince, should he take to the field.”
I had so Vowed, and so I must do.
And probably die trying.
ChapterSeven
“Aerinne.”
I wanted to ignore Édouard more than anything in the world. Unfortunately, pettiness was like expensive chocolate: to be savored sparingly.
He jerked his head towards the door and I followed Faronne's commander out of the dining room and down the hall, where he herded me into my office, shutting the door behind us.
It wasn’t a big space, because lots of room encouraged visitors and I’d rather they visit Édouard inhisfancy office.
I maintained a desk shoved against a wall, a single uncomfortable, grudging guest chair and a futon covered in yellow tape. Not much in the way of books—my shelves were crammed with items I’d collected over the years. One wall was devoted to my dart board with the Prince’s defaced visage. Occasionally I bought a fresh picture. My one window faced the training yard, to torture myself over wishing I could be out there when I was in here, and for deniability when people came to the house to visit.
If I didn’t see them, I could pretend they weren’t there.
I wandered to my desk and perched on the edge, crossing my arms over my chest and leveling him with an impassive stare. “You wanted to talk to me. So talk.”
Agate eyes regarded me without familial affection, but I only needed his cooperation, and barringthat, a lack of overt disrespect. I tolerated a lot from him because he wascompetentat his job—which I didn't want—but I sensed the agitation churning under his skin. He hadn’t liked what happened in the field today. Being wrong, me witnessing his gross wrongness, the shock of the Prince’s appearance. . .one or all of those.
“What happened out there?” he asked.
“Not to be facetious, but you're going to have to be more specific. Did you notice? A lot happened.” I didn't want to stumble over explanations to Édouard, who would leap on any sign of uncertainty and use it to tear my judgement to shreds. His way of coping with his guilt.
He whirled and slammed his fist against the wall.
I pursed my lips. “What's wrong with you? More wrong, I mean.”
He got in my face with a glare. “You know what the fuck I'm talking about, Aerinne. Don't play your dances-with-words games with me. Stop trying to figure out what I want to hear and tell me the truth.”
