Page 10 of Silver & Smoke
Lord and Lady Briar had indeed hosted an extravagant affair in their honour. The tables were adorned with silk linens and embroidered runners, silverware with pearl handles and tiered displays of delicious delicacies. Musicians played in a corner of the large space, the light melodic notes drifting through air thick with perfume. Men and women circled the hall: courtiers, diplomats, nobles, all with spiced wines in hand, jewels glimmering on their fingers, faces polished and powdered. Wren had never thought she’d miss Thezmarr again, but here she was, yearning for the mud of the Bloodwoods and the constant shouting of the shieldbearer training drills from the yard.
She became increasingly aware of how exposed the scar on her throat was, of the fine weave of the fabric swishing about her legs, of the striking man at her side – who was right in every way but the way that mattered. She could hear the hushed whispers.
‘What a handsome pair.’
‘Perhaps there’s hope for the midrealms yet.’
‘Imagine their children—’
Bile rose in Wren’s throat at that last comment. When they entered the formal banquet hall to applause, she accepted a flute of pale gold wine and tipped it back to wash out the taste.
Darian’s arm snaked around her waist, drawing her close enough that she could feel the warmth of him through his finely tailored jacket. ‘Don’t be shy, now, future wife,’ he murmured, guiding her through yet another crowd.
I can damn well walk myself, she wanted to snap at him, but she bit the words back.
An unnerving presence dominated her other side, and she glanced across to see Lord Lucian flanking her right. ‘You should smile more,’ he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and sticky. ‘You won’t win any favours with that scowl.’
Wren swallowed an array of curses, tempted to deposit the contents of the vial in her cleavage down the nobleman’s throat.
‘And what aboutourexchange of favours, Lord Lucian?’ she asked serenely instead. ‘I was promised methods and ingredients for the antidote to the Bear Slayer’s poison... and a direct line to your spies within the People’s Vanguard.’
‘All in good time, Your Highness. You’ll have what was promised when you’re married. As agreed,’ he replied. ‘In the meantime, our first priority is the war efforts affecting the people of the midrealms, surely?’
‘Surely,’ Wren replied.
‘And I trust there will be no trouble from your warrior acquaintance when we see him again?’ There was a smugness to Lucian’s words that made Wren’s skin itch, as though he was testing her control.
Control that she had to keep tightly leashed, lest she conjure a storm right then and there.
‘There will be no trouble,’ she said. ‘There will be no need to see the Bear Slayer again once you deliver what was promised.’
‘We’ll see about that, won’t we, Your Highness. Though I do hope to call youdaughtersoon enough.’
The sentiment made her feel as though she were sliding through oil, unable to scrape it from her skin. ‘Nothing would make me happier, my lord.’ Though she silently thought:His time will come.
When they were seated at the table, Wren surveyed the feast before them. The silver platters and crystal glasses were all courtesy of the man whose ring she wore and the alliance he offered her and her kingdom.
The man in question cleared his throat and raised his goblet. ‘A thousand thanks to our gracious hosts, Lord and Lady Briar. We are honoured to be at your table tonight.’
Was this what campaigning for allies meant? Pretty speeches and expensive wine? One display of wealth after another, indulging over and over? No wonder the common folk of the midrealms had been vulnerable to Silas’s propaganda. Beneath the table, Wren picked at the skin around her fingernails.
But Darian wasn’t done. ‘The noble house of Briar has been a friend of our family for as long as I can remember, and we have leaned on your support for many of our challenges throughout the years. My bride-to-be and I come here today to ask for that support again. Some of you may remember Delmira in its glory days... I’m told it was the most prosperous land the midrealms had ever seen. Now it has the potential to reach those heights again, with one of the most valuable resources at its heart: the silvertide rose, strengthened by Elwren’s storm magic.Thatis what we stand to gain with Elwren as queen, and me as her husband on the throne beside her.’
Wren could see the greed glinting back at her, and a chill ran down her spine. Drawing attention to the importance of the roses felt wrong. They were meant to be protecting them, rallying the funds and army to help her harvest them to make the cure, not shouting about them from the rooftops.
But Darian was oblivious as he continued. ‘Silas the usurper stands for many false causes, but his biggest is the one you fear most – the threat to all that your families have built over the centuries. Your livelihoods, your wealth... Pledge your private armies to us, as you have done many a time before, and reap the rewards of our union when the war is won.’
Darian nodded to his father, who rose next to speak.
‘I have the first reports of the usurper’s numbers,’ Lord Lucian announced. The table fell silent around them. ‘Our corroborated estimate is that Silas’s forces sit at around five thousand. A large bulk of the force is made up of those who call themselves the People’s Vanguard, recruited from the common folk of all remaining kingdoms. I say we hit them with full force,’ he declared. ‘Squashthem where they stand and watch their children scurry back to the hole they came from.’
‘Hear, hear.’ Lord Briar tapped his goblet on the table in solidarity.
‘I disagree,’ Wren said loudly. ‘You are lumping an entire people in with the usurper, when in fact he has manipulated them into thinking he’s fighting for them. The majority of them aren’t violent traitors. They’re misplaced and lost. They need our help.’
‘Of course, Your Highness.’ Lord Lucian bowed his head. ‘And should any of them prove to be innocent, we shall help them find their place once more. Your feminine rule is one of justice and mercy.’
Darian’s arm draped around Wren’s shoulders as he laughed. ‘Why do you think I’m marrying her, Father? The midrealms need someone like Elwren Embervale at the helm.’
