Page 63 of Her Cruel Redemption

‘Why would you help them, Maelyn?’ The Yoxvese man, Kestrel, spoke now, silver brows drawn low over his eyes as he glared at Mae. ‘You want to align yourself with parasites?’

‘I’m not aligned with the druthi, I’m here with Princess Gwinellyn,’ she replied evenly. ‘And you should be too. She’s going to end the blood trade.’

He shook his head. ‘I never took you for someone so gullible. And to think Orym speaks so highly of you.’

Mae stiffened and her breath caught.

‘She’s right,’ Gwinellyn interrupted, leaning forwards in her seat, angled towards Kestrel. His gaze snapped to her, full of distrust, but she held it. ‘I’m not your enemy. I have the support of your Elders in the Living Valley, and when I reclaim my crown, they’ll have a place on my council. An equal place. Your people will have a voice in what comes next. No more hiding, no more being hunted, and no more blood trade. I promise you.’

Kestrel exhaled sharply, fingers flexing on the arms of his chair. ‘And you think you can just decree this? You think your druthi will accept it?’

When she spoke again, it was in a lowered voice, like she was only speaking to him alone. ‘I think they’ll have no choice.’

Kestrel’s lips curled into a tight, humourless smile. ‘You’re naive to think what your people have done to us can be fixed with the flutter of a crown or the promises of a princess.’

That seemed to open the room to chaos. More voices began to chime in, becoming a hum of tangled words as the Yaakandale representative began hurling her own accusations which Vic responded to while Gwinellyn tried to explain to Kestrel about her time in the Living Valley. He lobbed back a series of cutting remarks and Lester and Khatar were arguing with Morozov about the blockade. But I remained silent. Because I was watching Draven as he watched me, his gaze seeming to run along my features like he was tracing the lines of the face he’d condemned to destruction. He seemed, as always, untouched by those around him, a figure from a different painting carelessly pasted into the wrong scene. His dark hair was stirred, mussed with wind or a poor night’s sleep or hands running through it. His sharp jawline was shaded with stubble. It would feel rough beneath my fingers.

‘Where’s Leela?’ I found myself asking. Though how he’d have heard me with all the noise around us, I couldn’t say.

He leaned forwards to deliver his reply. ‘Safe. You’ll see her soon.’

Before I could ask anything else, Esario called for silence, and I reluctantly turned my attention to him. He waited for the voices to fade out before speaking directly to Draven once again. ‘I suppose this discussion was dead before it began,’ he said gravely. ‘You’ve come here with no intention to negotiate. You’re content to see this conflict settled in blood.’

‘We’re not entirely done.’ Draven tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair again, returning his focus to Esario, surveying him speculatively. I took the opportunity of his diverted attention to pick up the water glass before me and sip it, returning some moisture to my cotton-dry mouth. ‘There’s the matter of a few hundred of your soldiers I’m holding prisoner in Port Howl.’

Esario’s frown deepened. ‘What are you planning to do with them?’

‘I’m not overly attached to them, so if you’d like them back then they’re all yours. Or I can dump them into the ocean. Whichever you prefer.’

Esario exchanged a look with Morozov, who gave a slight nod of his head before the king returned his focus to Draven. ‘And what will you want in return for their safe exchange?’

Draven’s gaze slid back to me. ‘A private conversation with Princess Gwinellyn.’

I choked on the water I’d been sipping, thumping the glass back down on the table while I coughed. A conversation withGwinellyn? Had I heard that wrong? Esario’s delegation were leaning into one another, muttering, shaking their heads.

‘Absolutely not,’ Oceatold’s king boomed.

Draven arched an eyebrow. ‘You’ll forfeit the lives of three hundred soldiers to deny me one conversation? I can’t imagine that will make you popular with their families.’

‘I’ll protect the rightful heir to the Brimordian throne.’ Esario was leaning forwards on his hands, his cheeks turning red.

‘I won’t harm her. All I’m asking for is ten minutes. You can even have my own brother as a hostage until she’s returned safely,’ Draven replied, waving a hand at Lester, who muttered under his breath as he folded his arms and slouched lower in his chair.

‘I wouldn’t allow even one minute without—’

‘It’s alright. I’ll do it.’ Gwinellyn’s voice managed to cut through the rising tension, even though she hardly raised it. There was a furrow scored between her brows and she was sitting very straight in her chair, but I knew just from looking at her that her mind was already made up. He would have known she’d agree with a promise of that kind of exchange. How could she not? But how could we let her?

Esario settled back in his seat, expression grave. ‘Perhaps we can discuss this before you make a decision.’

But Gwinellyn only smiled. ‘I can’t justify refusing with so many lives on the line.’ The smile slipped away when she looked to Draven. I could see the bob of her throat as she swallowed, the paling of her cheeks. ‘Now?’

‘No. I don’t want to be overheard. We’ll stay when they all leave. Your Yoxvese friend can stay too, if you need an assurance that I’m not using magic.’ He gestured in Mae’s direction. ‘But she’ll have to wait outside.’

Gwin nodded. ‘And when will you release the soldiers?’

‘As soon as you’ve rejoined your friends and Lester has been returned to me.’

My sense of how wrong this was steadily rose as I watched them discuss these arrangements. What could he possibly have to say to her? How could he possibly be trusted not to kill her, even with Lester as an assurance and Mae close by?

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