Page 96 of Thorns & Fire
‘Trusted sources close to each of the crowns,’ Lord Devereux Senior replied, his voice smooth, full of command.
Zavier eyed him suspiciously.‘Who are you?’
‘Lord Lucian Devereux of Tver, Prince Zavier,’ he replied with a bow of his head.
Wren glanced at Zavier, noting how his fists clenched beneath the table.
‘Princess Elwren.’Lord Lucian bowed his head again, this time in her direction.‘Another of our lost monarchs returned to the fold.’
‘Wren is fine,’ she told him.
But the nobleman raised a brow.‘I would not so easily dismiss your status.You may be grasping for it before long.’
Wren’s gaze swept around the room before narrowing on the older man.‘And what is your role here, Lord Lucian?’
His smile didn’t reach his eyes.‘I am here to assist His Grace, King Leiko.In recent years I have taken a far more hands-on approach to my support for the Tverrian crown.’
‘We were discussing the possibility of the rebels rallying an army,’ Audra cut in, looking as severe as ever with her hair scraped back and her spectacles perched on the end of her nose.
‘Indeed,’ Lord Lucian replied.‘I was about to say that between my own private forces and the units I manage for His Majesty, we have the numbers to protect Tver.’
‘Perhaps it’s best we don’t underestimate them, Father,’ Darian said.
‘Our men are the same calibre as those at Thezmarr,’ Lord Lucian snapped.Wren had to stifle a scoff, but he continued, ‘Our position is strong.’
‘As you say, Father,’ Darian replied, his face a mask of calm.
Wren glanced from father to son, her curiosity piquing as Darian’s own words came back to her:‘My father and I have played this game for as long as I can remember, and we’ll play until one of us doesn’t walk away.’
Like his sire, Darian wore an unreadable expression.Long gone were the roguish grin and flirtatious banter that infuriated the Bear Slayer.Here was someone cold and calculated.
‘What news on Silas the Kingsbane?’the High Chancellor’s voice rang out across the table.‘I have received no update since his attack on our grounds.’
Audra stood, clasping her hands behind her back.‘My Warswords have been tracking him across the midrealms.He has been travelling ever since.’
‘And yet you haven’t taken him down?’King Leiko’s tone was accusatory.
‘The situation is a delicate one—’
‘Delicate?’the king spat.‘Delicate how?He attacked the rulers of the midrealms,several times.He destroyed a good portion ofthisacademic institution and took the lives of a dozen people in that very hall.Furthermore, he goes about spreading treasonous propaganda throughout our lands.He needs to be dealt with.’
‘Well said, my king.’Lord Lucian tapped his goblet on the table in solidarity.‘The Guild Master should be using the brute force of Thezmarr to bring him down, not following him about the kingdoms, taking notes.’
Only decades of knowing Audra allowed Wren to spot her tell – the flare of her nostrils.It was a subtle tic that belied her former warden’s rage.Audra had spent many a year being told what to do by men; Wren knew she did not suffer it gladly now.She waited for the moment Audra would put them in her place.The Guild Master could flay a man with words just as easily as a blade.
But to Wren’s surprise, the older woman said nothing.Instead, she scanned the table, seeming to catalogue everyone there, waiting and watching.That, more than anything, caused a chill to rake down Wren’s spine.Audra had often done the same thing before and during the war, always assessing, always calculating her next move.It meant that there was more going on than the dick-measuring contest in front of them.
Wren glanced at Zavier, who was glaring daggers at the Devereux noblemen, while the masters around the perimeter of the room looked increasingly uncomfortable.The party at the table had broken out in hushed whispers, though Wren could make out none of their words exactly—
King Leiko slammed his fist on the table.‘I have another pressing matter that needs immediate attention.’The King of Tver motioned to his captain stationed by the heavy oak doors.‘There is a traitor in our midst.’
Wren’s heart seized as the doors creaked open and Dessa stumbled into the room.
She barely kept her footing as a burly guard shoved her forwards.Wren shot to her feet.This couldn’t be real.Dessa was good and decent.Dessa was herfriend.
It was then that she noticed Dessa’s face, usually alight with mischief, was a canvas of anguish.Tears carved glistening tracks down her cheeks; her lip was split, a trickle of dried blood stark against her skin.
Wren’s fists clenched at her sides.‘What is the meaning of this?’
