“I can recall the historical examples of your mercy.” Especially since I'd jumped off my high ignorant horse and done a bit of bedtime reading. “So. . .no thanks.”
The magic of the Vow I’d made slithered round my throat, then settled. But that slight movement was enough to remind me, as if I’d forgotten. I must kill this male or die myself. Perhaps not now, but soon enough if I failed.
“You understand that you will die if you face me head-on in battle? Defiance is futile.”
“Okay, Borg. We're not afraid to die.”
Blank expression.
Internally, I sighed. Insulting people wasn’t as fun when they didn’t get the joke.
“For what?” he asked.
I rocked back on my heels. “Is that a serious question?”
“Quite. You are young, little halfling. For what do you fight? You spend your power, and your attention, unwisely, when you should hoard it.”
My throat closed on my rage, an emotion always close at hand. “You named my mother. So you know why I fight.”
“Very well. If youwish toceasehostilitiesandbow, I may be moved to spare those left alive. It had been my intent to avoid bloodshed this time. My peoplewillkill only if necessary.”
This bastard. He said thatnow,taking the supposed high road while on the verge of crushing us, after decades of floating around in the ether while his House ran amok doing whatever it wanted.
“The trivial insult that started this feud, Aerinne, was not a cause your mother believed in.” He turned on his heels and strode back to his warriors.
I whirled and jogged back to mine. I nodded at a squire who took my horse's reins to lead it away. I'd fight on foot. Numair and Juliette gave me sidelong looks. Édouard ignored us, staring afterthe Prince, his face hard and blank.
Rules of engagement forced me to present Prince Renaud's terms. “The Old One said that if at any time wewish tobreakthe kneein a bow, he willceasehostilitiesandshow us all mercy.”
Though I kept my voice shorn of opinion, a smatter of laughter ran through the forces. A grim smile cracked my face. We agreed on the value of that horseshit offer.
“He said he wanted to avoid bloodshed this time,” I added, to more laughter. Faronne preferred to enter a battle on the heels of mirth anyway.
“His nap must have been restful,” Tereille murmured, “to produce such a delightful sense of humor.” Then he sobered. “If you see an opportunity where that offer appears genuine, you call a flag, Rinne.”
Édouard's expression tightened. They’d probably been arguing about this since the meeting.
I hesitated but nodded. I faced the enemy and unsheathed my sabre.
“They'll wait for us to make the first move, so they can maintain the fiction of takingthehighroad,” I said, and snorted.
High Lord Manuelle spat. “Thehighroadis slick with the blood of my kin.”
“So let's takethehighroadback.” That was all the speech I gave; we knew why we fought. I gripped the hilt of my sabre.
“Tea time's over, doves,” Tereille singsonged, drawing his sword in a smooth movement.
“Archers,” Édouard said.
The units stepped to the front of the line and drew their bows, two lines of intermingled Faronne cobalt-and-vermillion, Wyvenne black-and-flame yellow, Ramonne rose-and-sky blue. The Fae warred like a meadow of wildflowers, hair fluttering in the breeze, vulpine faces and jeweled eyes. A riot of color and variation.
Soon, the only color left would be scarlet.
“Fire.”
The first volley flew, a strident twang of bows, arrows an aria. Shimmers of energy snapped up as the White Guard shielded. The Prince didn't move, and seconds later our arrows disintegratedinthe air. I blinked.
Numair sighed. “No archers.”
