I can’t believe I’m letting Iannis disguise me as Secretary Asward, I grumbled to myself, arms folded across my chest as Iannis worked. We were standing in the living room area, and the delegate I was impersonating was sitting on one of the couches next to Bosal, drinking coffee and looking down his ugly nose at me. Said ugly nose now disfigured my own face too, and I could not wait for the time when I would be rid of it. But for now, there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
“I don’t understand why you’re taking Miss Baine along instead of me,” Asward complained yet again, and I rolled my eyes. Iannis had already explained to them what had happened with the Minister and why they were staying here so that the Minister and I could go to the Convention without being seen. “I understand why the Minister has to attend, of course –” here Asward stopped to incline his head respectfully at the Minister, who was standing next to me, “but Miss Baine has no legitimate reason to attend the Convention. It sets a terrible precedent.”
Iannis turned slowly to face Asward. “Are you questioning my authority, Secretary?”
Asward’s round face blanched. “Of course not, my lord. It’s just that –”
“Then the matter is settled. You and Secretary Bosal will stay here until I call for you. It will not do to have either of you anywhere near the Capitol Building while the Minister and Miss Baine are in disguise. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes.” Asward lowered his gaze, but the way he pressed his lips together told me that he wasn’t at all pleased with the decision.
As Iannis turned to apply the Minister’s illusion, I retreated to the island counter where the Finance Secretary was sipping his coffee so I could pour myself another cup. Iannis and I had stayed up late into the night briefing the Minister and discussing strategy. After the two of them had gone to bed to recover from their mutual ordeal, I’d catnapped on the couch, keeping my senses trained on the door in case any guards or Resistance soldiers came barging through the door looking for the Minister.
“This is going to be an interesting day,” Cirin murmured over his cup of coffee.
“No kidding.” I took a long sip, savoring the rich aroma and flavor. “The delegates are going to be in an uproar.”
“I believe we’re ready now,” the Minister said in Secretary Bosal’s voice. Aside from the more formal robes he wore, he looked exactly like the delegate. I touched my own head of hair, which was distressingly short and mousy and completely unlike the mane of curly black locks I was used to. But I was just going to have to get used to that – I only had to wear this disguise for a few hours, and honestly I was lucky Iannis had convinced the Minister to let me attend in the first place.
The traffic-heavy carriage ride to the Capitol Building was long and filled with tension. I looked out the window and tried to focus on the passing scenery and ignore the fact that my elbow and thigh were literally rubbing up against the most powerful man in the nation. Iannis had disclosed my true identity to the Minister, and though the man was courteous enough not to say it in front of me under the circumstances, he was not pleased that Iannis had chosen a hybrid apprentice. But the Minister had thanked me, albeit reluctantly, for rescuing Iannis from “those dangerous savages” and ensuring he made it to Dara for the Convention. I guessed that his ingrained disapproval of shifters warred against the fact that without my reconnaissance skills, he might well have been dead by now.
Despite my nerves, I couldn’t help my fascination as I entered the Great Rotunda for the first time. It was a huge, round room with a domed ceiling that soared impossibly high, pushing through the second story to crown the top of the building. A golden fresco made up entirely of runes swirled out from the center, and rimming the dome were small, arched windows that allowed sunbeams to filter in and bathe the room in light.
The seats were organized theater-style, with four rows that spanned the length of the room, except that in front of the red-covered chairs there were gleaming wooden tables where the delegates could set pen and paper and glasses of water. Each seat was designated by a golden place card on the table, announcing which delegate was to park his behind there, and small sheets of paper and pens had been set out at each station. Iannis led us to a group of seats in the top row, closest to the end. To my dismay, I was seated between the Minister and the Finance Secretary rather than next to Iannis, but there was little I could do about it. I cast my gaze to the center of the room, where a long desk had been set up, flanked by two smaller ones. Four mages sat at the largest desk, members of the Minister’s office who were running the Convention in his stead. Typewriters were set up at the smaller desks, and I assumed the mages clacking away at them were assistants or secretaries of some kind.
“Delegates,” a silver-haired mage called, and the way his voice reverberated throughout the room told me his voice was magically magnified. “The Convention is now in session. Please take your seats.”