Page 62 of Her Cruel Redemption

Quickly scanning the table, I caught sight of an empty chair and made a beeline for it. But slowly. My steps deliberate, measured, gaze fixed pointedly on one of the water glasses perched on the tabletop. When I sat down, I took a quick inventory of the room. Esario sat at the head of the table with his party aligned along one edge. Draven sat on the other end. It was a long table, comfortably seating all twelve of us, and he was far away from me, which suited me just fine. Across from me was a stout, weathered man who seemed vaguely familiar, and I recognised the shaggy-blond Lester, Draven’s half-brother, further down the table. He winked at me when he caught me looking, which I ignored. I would sit here like a stone gargoyle. I wouldn’t contribute, wouldn’t react, wouldn’t give Draven a shred of whatever he hoped to get out of demanding my presence here. And then it would be over, he would leave, and Leela would be set free.

If he made good on his promise, that was. I wasn’t convinced that he would.

The man across from me was the one who made the introductions. His explanations were curt, with only the listing of a name and a title for each person at the table. He introduced himself as Khatar, reigning chief of the Morwar Toth. I eyed him with greater interest, looking for signs of gills and webbed fingers, but seeing none. I wondered if Esario would be seething to be seated at a table with such company the way I was sure Tallius would have been. The representative of the Yoxvese was a man with a mess of silver hair that fell in uneven layers, like it had been cut with a dagger, whose name was given as Kestrel. He looked young, though it was hard to tell with the Yoxvese, and he was eying Mae with a frown. I felt a twinge of disappointment on her behalf. He clearly wasn’t the woman she‘d been hoping and dreading to see. Then there was a woman acting for the Republic of Yaakandale, with sharp features, glossy blond hair and eyes that were darting over us all, assessing. The fact that she was a woman surprised and confused me. Was that usual, for women to hold positions of importance in Yaakandale, or had she fought tooth and nail for her spot at this table?

When Vic introduced our party, I was saved until last, like the treat at the end of the meal. I chanced a glance down the end of the table as Vic spoke.

‘And this, I’m sure you’re aware, is Rhiandra Tiercellin.’

Draven’s finger had been tapping slowly against the wood, but it stilled when my name was pronounced. His eyes narrowed.

Vic continued into an opening address. ‘To begin, we would like…’ He trailed off when Draven rose to his feet. I thought he was about to speak, to assert control of the negotiations from the start, but he didn’t. He took hold of the back of the chair, dragged it out, and then proceeded to pull it along the table, stalking behind Lester and Kestrel. The entire room watched as he thrust the chair beside Khatar and dropped into it, sitting right in front of the door.

Right across from me.

Lester sighed, Khatar scowled and Morozov whispered something to Esario. Draven seemed to notice none of this. He crossed one leg over his knee and lounged back in his chair, his fingers tapping slowly against the armrest. Vic cleared his throat and continued, sounding a little less assured as he tried to steer the attention of the table away from me and the wicked, enraging man staring at me like we were the only two people in the room.

‘You tried to annul our marriage,’ Draven said suddenly, again derailing the opening remarks. Any eyes that had been drawn back to Vic returned to us now. The silence echoed for a moment as I gathered myself to respond.

‘I didn’t try. I succeeded,’ I said curtly. Gwinellyn was trying to catch my attention further down the table, but I ignored her. She would want me to stay silent, to refuse to engage. Which had been the strategy I’d been planning on sticking with until this moment. But he hadn’t seated himself right across the table fromherto provoke her. I’d like to see her try to remain silent if he had.

‘Because some priest declared it?’ Draven cocked his head as he bored into me with that grey stare, so cold and hard. He was angry. Well, he was always angry. And his rage was no match formine. ‘On what grounds did they annul it?’

My stomach twisted. I could refuse to answer him. But then he’d win.

‘Enchantment,’ I said coolly while my neck flushed with heat. Half the people in this room had watched me kneel in the dirt. I would have bet they were all enjoying ruminating on that right now.

Draven’s mouth twisted in a humourless smile. ‘Of course. And they’re happy to absolve you of our history if it means having the dowager queen for a political trading piece. Is that what you want? To be bait for an alliance?’

‘Perhaps,’ Vic interjected, his voice firmer this time, ‘we can return to the matter—’

‘Rhiandra is my wife,’ Draven said, cutting him off again. His gaze finally left my face to roam the others seated at the table. ‘Do what you want to try to bury that fact, but it will remain the only truth I recognise. And making attempts at marriage contracts to secure yourselves arms or resources or allies is a very bad idea.’

‘If I decide I wish to remarry, I will. It has nothing to do with you,’ I said hotly. Not that I’d had even the slightest inclination to do so, but there was no way I’d let him think that had anything to do with him. Gwinellyn was getting increasingly desperate to catch my attention, but I didn’t care. Maybe I was as fixated on Draven as he was on me, because the rest of them had begun to feel transparent, like we were in the company of ghosts and phantoms. Let them witness. Let them judge. It had as much an effect on me as whispers in a void.

Draven’s eyes returned to me. The bitter smile was back. ‘That, my dear, would be an excellent way to get someone killed. Perhaps don’t pick someone you like overly much.’

‘Don’tthreatenme.’

‘I’m not threatening you. I’m making a promise to anyone who gets the idea in their head to lay a finger on you. Youaremy wife.’ He turned back down the table, aiming his next words at Esario. ‘And I’ll have the blood of anyone who wants to pretend she isn’t. Make sure your prospective allies know that before they sign any agreements.’

A tense silence followed this statement. Which was a relief, because I needed a moment to strangle the emotional response washing through me. Some potent, incendiary mixture of indignation and pride and embarrassment and gratification. I’d analyse that later. Right now, I just needed to get it off my face.

‘Perhaps we can begin negotiations, since that’s why we’re all here,’ Esario finally said, seeming to have abandoned the opening formalities that Vic had been failing to enact. ‘I want you out of Port Howl. Did you come prepared with terms to make that happen?’

‘I did.’ Draven fixed Oceatold’s king with a cold stare, so different to the burning one he wore when he looked at me. ‘I’ll consider leaving your port. Once you string the heads of every druthi in your kingdom from the walls of Sarmiers, then abdicate your throne.’

Esario leapt to his feet, slamming his hands against the table. ‘Those are not terms!’

‘They’re the only terms I’m offering. You’re outmatched. Your forces are unprepared and inexperienced. The most practice you’ve had with conflict is repelling the occasional Morwarian raid on your coast. I’m allied with those same Morwarians, I have forces from Yaakandale who’ve so recently succeeded in waging a rebellion, and I have magic users among my soldiers. There’s little incentive for me to withdraw from your lands.’

‘You aren’t the only one with magic users among your fighters,’ Esario replied, sinking back into his chair, gaze flicking down to me.

Draven followed his line of sight, and that anger I’d seen lurking flared, casting his expression in danger. ‘You have no business trying to wield forces you don’t understand.’

I bristled at the insinuation, because I was almost positive he was talking tome, not Esario. ‘I’ll show you how well I wield those forces when—'

‘I have two of the most capable druthi in the continent travelling with my army,’ Esario interjected, cutting across me and trying to steal the conversation back. ‘What I don’t understand,theysurely do.’

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