I scoff. “I wish it were that simple, but you didn’t see how scared Eogan was for everyone. How he looked at me and begged me to kill him yesterday.”
“If you were that concerned, maybe you should’ve done what he asked.”
The cold warping my bones flares. Is she jesting? How could she say that? “Is that what you think? That I should’ve let everything go without even trying?” I wrap my hands around my arms. “You’ve lived in luxury with friends who’ve trained and honored your ability your whole life, but I haven’t. And that . . . animal”—I jerk my head toward Draewulf—“just stole what few things I call mine, not to mention he’s about to steal a lot more lives. So before you judge me, consider the fact that in my situation, you would’ve done the same.”
She snorts. “No, I wouldn’t. And if you think that, then you don’t know the Luminescent race very well.”
“I know them well enough to know that while for the past hundred years Faelen’s been fighting a war they didn’t start and my Elemental people have been slaughtered, the Luminescents stood by caring about little else but themselves.”
The second it exits my mouth I wish I could take it back.
Oh hulls—that came out wrong. “Rasha, I didn’t mean . . .”
“Yes, you did.” She looks around at the delegates reseating themselves. “We’ll discuss this later. The meeting’s starting.”
I look at her and watch her expression turn stony, as if I don’t exist.
You’re blasted right we will.
Because I can’t leave it like this. I can’t lose her too.
When I look up, I find Eogan watching me again, but it’s with black wolf eyes rather than the emerald ones I’d give anything to see again. I sharpen my glare at him and will him to read my mind: I’ve no idea what you need to achieve through me, or what the hulls that even means . . . but I will stop you.
I will not break first.
Sir Gowon wastes no time in calling the meeting back to order, and it occurs to me that in the three-minute intermission, there’s been a shift in the air. Not merely between Rasha and me, but between the hundred Assembly members facing the table of Faelen delegates and Bron generals. Although, as far as I can tell, the only physical difference is that Lady Isobel has seated herself right next to Eogan this time.
If she feels me staring, she doesn’t let on. Her condescending interest is on the generals as Sir Gowon waves the water servers from the room. When the last doors have shut, the old man folds his hands behind his back and steps up behind Draewulf.
“His Majesty has the floor.”
“Delegates and Assembly,” Draewulf announces smoothly. “I see no point in drawing this meeting out with endless negotiations. We have made a treaty and will therefore stand by it and will not replenish our storehouses through Faelen. I expect you to support this decision as subordinates who are to obey. Especially as, I believe, you’ll find what comes next will silence further arguments from here on out.”
When he takes his seat, Lord Wellimton’s sigh of relief is so heavy I can almost feel his wet breath slather across the table just as unease twists in my stomach. I glance at Princess Rasha, but she’s studying Lady Isobel. The part of her face I can see is narrowing and there’s a small red glimmer.
The silver-haired General Cronin rises and gives a long, slow clap of his hands. “Bold speech, my lord, but will the majority here support you? Especially those who feel they are owed more by a man seeking to establish himself as king? You would deny them replenishment of their very livelihoods?”
The wolfish black in Draewulf’s glare thickens until the whites of his eyes are nearly hidden. He stands enough to lean down the table toward the general. “I never said I wouldn’t reclaim what is owed Bron. I simply said we won’t do it through Faelen.”
He looks at the whole Assembly. “I will give you the war you’ve been thwarted from—a war that will supply your storehouses with food and minerals and natural resources deprived you far too long.” He rocks back on his heels and suddenly smiles, and it’s more unnerving than his threatening gaze when he lifts a hand and lets his voice boom.
“I set forth the motion that we prepare for war against Tulla, the land we have easier access to thanks to my treaty with Faelen.”
I freeze as a visceral gasp rocks the room.
He wants to go after Tulla?
That’s Colin and Breck’s homeland.
The delegates shift in their seats, making them squeak, the sound only diluted by Myles’s mutter of, “You’ve got to be bleeding jesting.”
The words sink past the chill in my skin and pull the cold back down to the marrow of my bones as I watch Sir Gowon’s expression turn as stunned as the rest of ours. His gaze focuses in on Eogan’s face.