When Dareena rose for the day, she discovered her bed empty. She knew Drystan would have already risen and left hours before, but Alistair was due back. It was nearing noon—surely he would have arrived by now?
Worried, and a little annoyed, Dareena donned her dressing gown, then pulled on the bell and ordered breakfast and the morning post. She curled up on the couch with a book while she waited for both to arrive.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened.
“Good morning, my lady,” Soldian sang as she sailed into the room. The other ladies were right behind her, as well as one of the kitchen staff, wheeling in breakfast on a cart. “You’ve quite a few letters,” she said, setting them down on the table.
“Indeed, I do.” Dareena thanked the server and asked him to leave the food on the dining table. She had Lyria fetch her a letter opener, then set to the task of opening and reading the mail. Normally, Drystan would have taken care of this already, but as all three princes were absent, the task fell to her. The idea of being in charge cheered her a little, and she spent the next thirty minutes happily going through the letters. This was a task where her ladies could actually be useful, she realized. She had Rantissa make a list of all the actionable items, and sent Lyria to speak to the steward and several other castle staff members to set certain things in motion.
About halfway through the pile, she came upon a note from Alistair. My love, it said, I apologize, but I am not able to return home for a few days. The raid was a success, but one of my officers was badly injured and I cannot abandon him while he is in such pain. The healers say he will recover, and he is receiving the best care possible, so I am confident I will return home soon. Keep me in your thoughts. You are always in mine.
Dareena sighed, tenderly tracing the strokes of ink written by Alistair’s own hand. She wanted her mate back, of course, but she couldn’t very well be angry at him for wanting to see to his men. His heart of gold was what had won her over, after all, and she would never wish for him to change.
She was just finishing up when someone knocked urgently at the door. “Who is it?” Dareena called, her heart jumping a little in her chest. Please, gods. Tell me something has not happened to my mates.
“It is Lord Renflaw, my lady,” the man said. “Please, there is an urgent matter I must speak to you about!”
“Let him in,” Dareena ordered Rantissa. As her lady opened the door to admit the council head, Dareena’s stomach twisted with unease.
“What has happened?” Dareena demanded as he bowed before her.
“A delegation from Elvenhame has arrived,” Lord Renflaw said. His eyes were bright, and Dareena realized he was both nervous and excited. “Duchess Valenhall and a few others.”
Dareena shot to her feet. “Did they say why?”
“No, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say they are here to negotiate the treaty,” Lord Renflaw said. “They demanded to speak to the princes, but as they are not here and will not be back for some time, I think you and I should go in their stead.”
“I agree,” Dareena said. Her pulse thrummed with excitement—finally, she would get the chance to do something useful! “I’ll need time to make myself presentable.” She turned to her ladies. “Quickly.”
Soldian and Rantissa ushered Dareena into her room, where they cleaned her up and dressed her in a gown of deep purple and gold. They brushed and styled her hair in an elaborate crown of braids, then brushed makeup onto her lips, eyes, and cheeks. Dareena studied herself in the mirror, pleased with the regal look they’d helped her achieve. The makeup made her look older, more sophisticated. Like someone who actually knew what she was doing.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling at her ladies. She was trying to be more encouraging, and less annoyed, praising them heartily when they did something well. “You have done an excellent job.”
“Thank you,” they said as one. Rantissa giggled a little, that nervous tic that got on Dareena’s nerves, but she ignored it. In the hall they met Lord Renflaw, who escorted her to the underground chamber. The elves rose as she entered the room.
“Lady Dareena.” Duchess Valenhall inclined her head. Her eyes glittered as she took in Dareena. “You are looking well.”
“As are you,” Dareena said, noting that despite the long hours of travel the duchess had endured, not a hair was out of place. She wore a silver dress that rippled as she moved, silhouetting her willowy form perfectly. “What brings you to my Keep?”
Lady Valenhall’s white teeth flashed as she smiled. “I came to see your mates, but it would seem that they have sent you in their stead. Do the princes of Dragonfell think so little of the elves, then?”
Dareena refused to rise to the bait. “None of my mates are in residence, but that matters not. I am perfectly sufficient to deal with whatever matter you have brought for our attention.”
The other elves grumbled a bit at this, but Lady Valenhall seemed unperturbed. “Very well,” she said, shrugging. “You have a good enough head on your shoulders to at least hear what we have to say.”
“Her head is irrelevant,” one of the other nobles, a male with white hair, groused. “We need someone who has the authority to negotiate this deal.”
“Lady Dareena is the regent, and she wields the power of the dragon king’s office,” Lord Renflaw interjected in a stern voice. “Between the two of us, we have the necessary authority to sign off on any agreement, should we find it to our liking. Now, you can either have a seat, or you can leave.”
“Don’t be silly,” Lady Valenhall said airily, pulling out a chair. “Of course we’re not leaving. Lady Dareena, shall we begin?”
“We shall.” The sound of chairs scraping on the stone floor filled the room as they took their seats. “I assume the last delegation reached Elvenhame safely, and our message was delivered?”
“It was,” Lady Valenhall said. There was a brief pause as she and the other nobles exchanged glances. “The king has instructed us to tell you that if your people help recover the Princess Basilla, and send Prince Ryolas back to Elvenhame to make peace with his father, we will accept the treaty proposed in the message Prince Drystan has sent. Pending these developments, we are prepared to offer a truce lasting no longer than four weeks.”
Dareena and Lord Renflaw glanced at each other, and a silent understanding seemed to pass between them. “That sounds reasonable,” Dareena said.
“You’re bloody right it is,” one of the nobles said with a venomous glare. “We aren’t even asking for reparations anymore.”
“Your original demands were outrageous, and you know it,” Dareena said in a cool voice. “However, in view of the new situation, we will consider paying limited reparations, of our own free will, to those elves who were harmed by the war.”
The elves blinked, and Dareena’s ladies, who stood silently nearby, looked shocked. “That is quite generous of you, Lady Dareena,” Lady Valenhall said.