Page 211 of Curse of Darkness
Her smile is dangerous.
“We’re not returning to the discussion of Unseelie. Not yet.” Thiago sits up straight. “We have just granted Prince Edain the right to the regency of Asturia until our daughter, Amaya, comes of age.”
“As I said,” Maren purrs. “I object.”
“Three votes to one,” Kyrian bites out. “Your objection is noted.” He hammers his palm flat on the table. “Let Prince Edain inherit the regency of Asturia. Strike it into the accords,” he throws toward the scribe.
This is going to be a long day.
* * *
After three daysof arguing with Maren, the treaty is struck with her voice the only one of dissent.
Unseelie will be given to the Old Ones, with Blaedwyn as the only recognized fae queen. Though the challenging way the Erlking looked at her as this statement was read into law makes me wonder if he’s going to allow it.
She still owes me ten months of service. Ten months in which she’ll play nice.
Ten months of relative fucking peace.
It will be interesting to see what comes of our alliance once that time is up. Morwenna fled the battlefield with what was left of her armies; Prince Corvin of Ravenal said he’d keep an eye on the old witch. She’s not the kind to fade into obscurity quietly.
And Angharad is dead, brought down by Baylor’s sword.
“Here we are,” Thiago says, tugging me out of the Hallow when we arrive back in Ceres.
Baylor’s in charge of dismantling the armies and clearing the fields surrounding Eidyn. Thornwood is going to assist. There’s a friendship brewing there; two battle-hardened warlords who could hardly care what the monarchy was up to, as long as they’re not causing wars. Considering they’ve faced each other over a battlefield several times, I’d expected them to each wield a grudge, but as Thornwood said with a shrug, “War is war. Peace is peace. And besides, I want to find out how that prick routed me at Devlin Gorge thirty years ago.”
“You might have to get him drunk,” Thiago warned.
“Consider it done,” Thornwood had replied.
“Home,” I say now, feeling the quiver of the leylines. They’re alive now in a way they weren’t before. One pluck, and I can send the entire network singing, though the Dream Thief suggested I avoid doing that.
“It’s impolite,” he’d said with a twinkle in his eyes. “It will sound like you’re hammering on my Hallow.”
And then he’d offered to help me learn to control this vast new power inside me.
“Home.” Thiago slides his arms around my waist, breathing in the scent of my hair. “I sometimes wondered if I’d see it again.”
I lean into him, reveling in the sensation of peace and soaking up the strength inherent in his body.
It’s been months since I could relax. Months of fighting, riding the edge of stress, barely sleeping, worrying.
And now this.
A hot tear slides down my cheeks. I don’t know why. I have nothing to cry over.
“Come on,” Thiago says, swinging me up into my arms and heading toward our rooms. “You’re exhausted.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve barely slept in three days, Vi,” he growls. “You’re going to crash very soon.”
“I’m not tired.” There’s too much power coursing through my veins.
“Do you ever not argue with me?”
I open my mouth and then shut it, because it’s the only way to win.
