F inally, I was called to court. Meajqa summoned me to the library to meet with the rest of the court. He came to get me personally, which was
unusual.
“I’m here myself because I need to confirm that you will not attack the king if I bring you to see him.”
He was dead serious.
I did not know if I wanted to make that promise. I said, “I’ll try.”
“I don’t know that I can accept that answer, my vicious, mysterious friend.”
“You have no choice but to accept it,” I snapped.
Meajqa cringed and, reluctantly, beckoned me to follow.
As we walked down the halls, I counted all the things I would scream in Caduan’s face. I imagined what it would look like to get him on the ground. When I was Reshaye I would have simply killed anyone who made me feel so powerless.
But when I finally saw Caduan’s face, I didn’t want to kill him. Because when I walked into the room, his eyes immediately found mine, as if he had been waiting for me. He looked… relieved.
Like he was happy to see me. Like he had missed me.
Our gazes met and lingered for a long moment before he cleared his throat and turned to the rest of the table. Luia and Vythian were there as well, and I wondered if I imagined the fact that they were watching the two of us with just as much abject curiosity as Meajqa was.
That went away as soon as Caduan spoke.
“Vythian’s spies have come back with important information,” he said.
Everyone was now all business. Vythian nodded gravely. “The Zorokovs and other leading Threllian Lords have been communicating with Ara.”
Meajqa’s face went as cold and still as stone. He set his wine glass down.
“They what?”
“They have been sending letters to Ara.” Vythian gave us a pointed stare. “To the Aran palace.”
The Aran palace. The Aran queen. Nura.
Meajqa said, sweetly, “Well, why would they be doing a silly thing like that?”
“Do you want what I know or what I think?” “Both,” said Caduan.
“I know only that the letters are being passed through Threll to get to Ara. I know that at least three of them—likely more—have been passed to the Aran crown. I do not know the contents of these letters. I do not know exactly how many there are. They are being carefully hidden, and extreme measures have been taken to make sure they remain that way.”
“Encouraging behavior from an ally,” Meajqa said.
“Indeed. There are a variety of reasons why Threll might be in contact with Ara. But that brings us to what I think.” His face went colder. “I think they are betraying us.”
Meajqa scoffed. “After we ceded to their demands. After so many of our own and one of our greatest generals died on their battlefield. They turn and stab us in the back.”
“Is anyone truly surprised?” muttered Luia.
“I admit that I thought they would see more value in our alliance than to treat it this way,” Vythian said.
I was not surprised. I still held Tisaanah’s memories within me, as vivid as my own. I could feel that whip upon my own back, marks placed there by the betrayal of someone she had thought loved her.
Humans betrayed. They lied. It was in their souls. Caduan’s lips thinned. “And our options?”
“We could give them the opportunity to explain themselves,” Vythian said. “Knowing, of course, that they could lie. But it would give us the chance to find out what information they know while preserving the alliance.”
Meajqa scoffed again and took another long drink of wine. “Or,” Caduan said, coldly.
“Or we destroy them.” Anger made my words quick and sharp—they left my lips without my permission. My anger was everywhere at once, bubbling over at Caduan for abandoning me, at the Arans for centuries of torture, at the Threllians for their betrayal now.
But I did not have to accept such things. I knew how good vengeance felt. How much pain could be soothed with the iron taste of blood.
I stood, my fingernails biting my palms.
“We are more powerful than we were before,” I snarled. “I alone killed hundreds of human men at Niraja. We are beyond needing the Threllians’ pathetic resources. It’s time to stop being cowardly.” I spat the world across the table like an arrow. “We are stronger than them. You set out to make a strong move against the humans. None of them are more disgusting, less worthy of life, than the society the Threllians have built. We have spent too long being cautious. We’ve spent too long hiding because we are afraid of what we are capable of.”
“If we do this,” Caduan said, calmly, “there is no coming back.” He did not look at anyone but me. He barely blinked.
“You claimed that you would destroy human civilization because it brought nothing but pain and death. You claimed that we would put an end to them. Your country has rallied behind you in that. Last week you read three hundred names of Fey dead by human hands. What does it matter whose color they bore? The Threllians would have killed them just as willingly as the Arans. Let us avenge them.”
I was not talking about the three hundred dead Fey.
The vengeance, Meajqa had said, is for you.
And as I spoke, I saw that fire, that hunger, seep into Caduan’s eyes. “Are we ready?” he said.
I knew what he was really asking. If we were to do this—wage our war in earnest, rely on our own power instead of the numbers provided by the Threllians—he needed me. Needed my power. Needed my rage.
“I am ready,” I said, without hesitation.
Something like pride flickered across Caduan’s face. He rose and turned to the map on the wall. “Then we destroy Threll,” he said.
He pressed his hand to Threll then swept it away, leaving behind a smear of crimson over the parchment—human blood.
“We are done being cowards.
