Rasha turns me her reddish gaze. “In this room I believe they are required to do so, especially in regard to political matters.”
“You speak as one still stuck in the old days,” a white-toothed, rough-faced Bron general near Draewulf is saying. “What Eogan has done for us is innovative at the very least; at best it’s saved us manpower and multiple deaths. While all of us here grew up accustomed to the war, not all of us saw the need for it.”
I see eight, maybe nine people agreeing.
“A nice sentiment, but how many here would back you?” General Cronin’s voice grows louder. “We are a people of war! And we, as Bron’s leaders, have a country that after one hundred years of war has been promised a victory! Submitting to anything less than that will be viewed as a defeat, and all of us will lose the respect of our citizens.”
Heads are nodding.
“We want repayment,” several voices mutter.
“We want victory!” others say.
Oh.
Oh litches.
“They still want a war,” I murmur, awareness dawning.
“They do?” Lord Percival whispers. “With who?”
Apparently my voice carried louder than intended because the old, wrinkly general looks me square in the face, then breezes his gaze across the other delegates. “It’s not even that we want a war—it’s that we’re in danger of our own. The plagues from Drust have reached the plains and rumor has it Lady Isobel’s Dark Army is shortly behind them. Yet here Lady Isobel sits. Sire, perhaps it’s not our place to ask where you’ve been the past four years, nor to speculate on your current relationship with Faelen. However, we cannot negotiate and find stability in a peace treaty while Drust is breathing down our neck. There are dark dealings over there, ones your brother chose to ignore in his hunger to launch against Faelen.”
I look at Lady Isobel’s flawless face and note the strain of her flexing muscles. I wonder how much self-control she’s exercising right now.
“And I argue,” the rough-faced general says, “that we’ve got citizens tired of war and wondering if this peace treaty—as well as an attention to things closer to home—might not be wiser.”
“Except we’re a nation of war,” General Cronin groans. “You can’t merely change who we are.”
“Maybe once. But I think you’ll find a few of the newer Assembly, as well as some of the people we represent, are weary of it. Why not save our resources and pursue what we want through diplomacy rather than force?”
“Which is why we’re all here, is it not?” Eogan says, spreading his hands.
The silver-haired general guffaws. “I would agree with you, Your Majesty, except one cannot help notice a representative from Tulla is not part of this delegation. And Cashlin?” His mouth curls. “No offense, Princess Rasha, but you are all your country saw fit to send? It leads one to doubt the seriousness with which your country takes these negotiations.”
“As you well know, my people lacked the ability to get here from Cashlin as quickly as needed,” Rasha says. A ratlike, sly smile comes out in full play on her face. “However, I assure you that, merely because a task has befallen you in recent days which you are illequipped to handle, sir, does not mean that I am impotent for mine.”
The man’s cheeks pale as fast as her grin disappears, and I’ve no idea which pantaloons of his she just aired, but from his panicky expression it’s clear they’re quite awkward.
“Let’s move on,” he mutters.
Except His Majesty’s not listening. He’s leaning back speaking with a soldier wearing the eerie black mask and garb of the Mortisfaire. Isobel’s guard? How did one of them get in here?
Ten seconds later he’s twitched his hand again and murmured whatever incantation brings that unnatural silence over the room. “Perhaps now is a good time to take a three-minute refreshment pause.”
CHAPTER 22
BESIDE ME, LADY GWEN RISES AND MOVES DOWN to question Myles. I lean into Rasha and shake off the few stares I sense from the Assembly as they get up to talk amongst themselves. “About the guards killed,” I ask her. “Do you think it was specific toward them because they were my guards?”
She eyes me stiffly. “We believe so, seeing as the Bron people are clearly not pleased by your presence here.” She purses her lips. “Little did they know they needn’t have bothered killing off half your protection unit considering you’ve managed to endanger yourself much worse through Myles.”
“You can’t be serious. I wasn’t endangering anyone. I’m trying to help.”
“Maybe so, but at some point the lust for power requires a price.”
“Price? Are you saying I caused their deaths?” I peer around at the generals and delegates before lowering my voice. “I went with Myles as a responsibility to my people. And even to these people.”
“Just because you won Faelen’s war doesn’t mean you have to do it again.”