Page 286 of Mother of Death and Dawn

Max set down his wine and leveled a steady stare at Meajqa. “Look. I like you, actually. I think you seem like you’re trying to do the right thing, and that counts for a lot, from my perspective. We’ve already told you that we can’t speak for all of our people. Tisaanah needs to talk to the rest of the leadership of the Threllian alliance. I don’t intend to keep this crown very long, so I need to talk to the rest of Ara’s leadership, too. I won’t lie and pretend that the two of us have more pull than we do. But, here’s what I can say to you. We are fucking tired of war. I am, Tisaanah is, Ara’s council is, and this entire Ascended-damned world is. I think you are, too. Is that right?”

Meajqa’s eyebrow twitched, and he took another sip of wine with an expression that offered tacit agreement.

“I don’t blame you for not trusting us,” Max went on. “Not for a second. If I were you, I wouldn’t trust us either. Actually, as it stands, I’m not entirely sure that I trust you at all. But… after being surrounded by so much death, I’m willing to take a leap of faith. Are you?”

I reached across the table and offered him my hand. “We are willing to help create that trust with you, Meajqa Sai’Ess. Brick by brick. Day by day. There is nothing I can offer that will change things overnight. There is nothing I can say that will erase what you have already endured. But if you’re willing to work with us, we would be honored to build it alongside you.”

Meajqa regarded my hand stonily. He took another sip of wine.

“What is the Aran word for this? Hm…naive.”

But then a slow smile curled his lips.

“We will try it anyway,” he said, and took my hand.

* * *

The negotiations went so much smootherafter that. We hammered out a few measures that helped the Fey tentatively accept our good faith, and a few that would make it easier for our people to accept theirs. If everything was agreed among the Arans and the Alliance, then the Fey would be our allies—not close allies, of course, but there would, at least, be no more war.

I could work with that.

Max and I watched the Fey armada depart, leaving behind only a few diplomatic emissaries who remained to continue peace negotiations. Their ships were beautiful, with big, green sails that fluttered in the breeze. From the distance they looked like leaves skittering across the surface of a pond.

“You look terribly proud of yourself,” Max said. I glanced over to see my husband watching me with a bemused smirk on his face, and my heart leapt a little.

It did every time I looked at him, this last week. I didn’t know if he really realized exactly how close I came to losing him. It seemed like a miracle that he was with me at all.

He had scoffed when I had told him this, but I saw the way his stares lingered on me, too.

“I am proud of myself,” I said.

“You can’t take credit for all of that.”

“The Alliance is seven countries. Ara is only one. Which one of us is more important? Me, clearly.”

He rolled his eyes and heaved a long-suffering sigh. I scowled at him dramatically and the two of us turned back to the hallway. We had, of course, a thousand things to do.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Max said, at last, and when his hand brushed the small of my back, I leaned into that touch as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

* * *

Hope pokedthrough the doubt like flowers sprouting in rubble. Still, the restoration came very, very slowly. The Capital city had been almost completely destroyed, especially near the coast. I was thankful that we had managed to evacuate as much of the city as we had, but still, so many were left without homes. Yes, we had managed to save our people, but victory was never free.

The days passed slowly but the weeks went fast. We cleared the remains. We mourned. We rebuilt. An endless cycle, repeated on big and small scales—hopefully, I prayed, for the last time.

A week after the Fey departed, Iya called an assembly of the Council of the Orders. The group gathered at the foot of the Tower ruins at sunrise, before the city had begun to wake. The worst of the debris had been cleared, but the Towers themselves were still merely shattered skeletons of what they once were.

“I called us here this morning to discuss an important topic.” Iya motioned to the wreckage surrounding us. “We must decide what will be done to the Towers, and how we will approach rebuilding efforts.”

“That’s easy,” Max said, without hesitation. “We won’t.”

Most of the councilors looked appalled at this idea. Iya, I noticed, looked significantly calmer.

“But— but the Orders need the Towers,” one of the councilors said, somewhat helplessly.

“What Orders?” Max said, gesturing to the pile of rubble.

Two of the councilors’ jaws were literally hanging open.

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