She did,Darkan says, intonation soft.Nora came through the Realm gate with Muriel. She has also slept many times.
Everything in me sharpens. How could he know that?
Nora slants her grayish-lavender gaze at me as we wait quietly for her to speak. She often loses herself in her thoughts.
“I did,” she says, echoing Darkan. “We were the first to flee. It forced his hand—he was angry with Muriel for abandoning him. He came shortly after Faronne established the House here and took the reins of power to spite her. But I think it is what she intended. She knew him.” Nora goes silent several moments, then shakes herself. “There was no contest. We bowed. The bloodshed between the Houses came later.”
“What was he in Ninephe? Why did he come to Everenne?”
“We all fled monsters. At first we tried to maintain the bonds, but we reminded each other too much.” She falls silent, eyes distant.
Pressing her will do no good. Her words make just enough sense to confuse me all over again.
Maman once warned me,“Whatever happens, if Renaud ever crosses back over, make sure you are not at his side. You will not survive him.”It was almost all she would say about him—except to stay away—or the home she'd left.
“We need to attack first,” Édouard says. He uncrosses his arms and approaches, stopping when he’s also at the head of the table. “This is the first access we've had to our Lord's killer.”
He pauses and meets the gaze of every person in the room,his intensity brimming. Only one or two look away—most listen.
Of course they do. We are Faronne and there is never a fight we sit out, even if against a several thousand-year-old demigod—because certain-death odds are just more fun.
“He's recently awake, he won't be at full strength for a day, maybe two,” Édouard continues, glimpsing my expression.
Silence is the best course for a moment; I must take care with my words. My father is Lord, but I am Muriel’s daughter and Danon's Heir. Half the House will wait for me to indicate a preference and agree out of loyalty. I don't want that kind of power. I want each person to choose a path according to their belief.
The Commander, a Darkhound, scents my hesitation. “Would you not risk death to avenge your mother?” A murmur of agreement from the room.
I dig my fingers into my thigh to keep from punching him. “You ask me that question, here, now?” I wait a beat, until I can speak calmly again. “I would avenge her. But I don't want to see my family die needlessly.”
Baba's gaze is furrowed. That is part of our reluctant deal after Danon's capture. My father assumes Court and administrative duties but washes his hands of any fighting. He isn't a strict pacifist, but unnecessary war is anathema to him. My mother must have worked hard to win him over while her House was in the midst of a drawn out conflict.
“He may not even come to the field,” Lela, cousin on my father’s side and one of only two human knights sworn to Faronne, says. “The Old Ones aren't supposed to intervene in House wars.”
I brace myself on the table. They’re talking themselves into this and I—I can't blame them. I’m just as willing to take the risk with my own life as they are with theirs.
I’m a fool, too.
But it’s my duty to at least attempt to be a voice of reason, even if a drowned out voice of reason. “Forgive me if I don't want to base our strategy on that presumption.”
Numair comes up behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders. “He'll either cease all hostilities or obliterate us. If we wait?—”
“So you're a coward too,” Édouard says, brows drawing down in contempt. “We can hide under our beds, or we can attack now and reprimand them for this afternoon's ambush. We can, at the very least, thin Montague ranks in preparation for future conflict.”
“That's all we can hope to do,” Numair says. “If the Prince chooses to take to the field. . .you're blinded by your need for revenge, Commander.”
“And you will spend your life crouched under Aerinne's?—”
“That's enough,” I snap. “Commander, if you can't demonstrate a little more dignity in your discourse, I'll muzzle you and let Tereille do the talking.”
Édouard snorts.
“This wouldn't be the first time in Everenne's history Prince Renaud leveled entire portions of the city to settle a dispute between Houses,” I say. “It's just. . .been a while.”
My eldest cousin stares at me, unmoved. “He was fey on the field today, but he called for a ceasefire. His first instinct was not to strike. No High Lord leaves survivors unless he isweakened. He barely woke—he isn't at full strength. This is proof.”
“It's speculation.”
Juliette, frowning, leans her elbows on the table. “In his shoes, I would have done the same thing—pummel everyone to a standstill, gather my forces and retreat to regroup and figure out what the hell was going on. He seemed sane to me.”
