Chapter 88: Eighty Eight
Valka
The wolves terms for the truce was outrageous enough that I didn’t need to break through Rafe’s mind to know they weren’t betting on the truce.
The round table was large enough to fit a party of thirty, the surface laid out flatly with delicacies and snacks of every kind but no one ate. No one drank. No one trusted the other enough to relax. No one trusted the unsheathed swords and arrows nocked in wait for whoever was foolish enough to trigger the violence brimming in the hall.
Our party was a smaller one, still. Valerian, Evadne, Trenton and me sit at one of the three pointed corners of the table. Lilith’s away with Cyrus’s captain of guard, looking amongst the imprisoned weapon’s dealers to find who had traded one with her.
Cyrus, King Oberon and a woman much too young to be Oberon’s wife sit at the other end, the very stature of as much grace the humans could maintain in a situation as infuriating as this. Beside them are Cyrus’s younger brothers, perfectly primed like him.
The wolf’s side, however, is an odd one. Astrea hasn’t stopped tracing her eyes over Lucien’s hands where they drum absentmindedly against the table. Rafael’s black eye hasn’t healed, but he wears a look that is both smug and indifferent. His grandmother has eyes for me today, it would seem, as her grey eyes keep trying to peel my flesh from my bones.
There is a girl seated next to her. She couldn’t be older than eighteen. Her eyes are onyx black but he has the same coppery hair Rafael does. And she has been watching Lucien, too. Her smile is doey and innocent, but something about it makes me uncomfortable. She is dressed less modestly than the rest, her white dress cinching around a delicate frame but still managing to reveal still budding breasts. She is beautiful, in a maiden in distress kind of way, and she looks like she’d do better tending to flowers than being here.
Lastly, is the Quartermaster. Sebastian. He has a seat at the table today and is dressed as regally as Rafe. And he keeps looking over at Evadne, who is yawning for the fifteenth time in the last minute like a prized treasure.
Something about it all chafes, like we’re missing an essential part of a puzzle here, and soon, it all fits together.
"Those lands you seek to reclaim have been enriched with wealth from King Lucien’s coffers. I’m hardly sure the prisoners left would want to return with you," Trenton says.
Lucien’s chin is on his fist, his eyes flicking from face to face like he’s trying to decipher just what the plot it.
"I’m sure a compromise can be reached," King Oberon notes. "Half and half, if you’re both willing."
Trenton casts an unsure look to Lucien. The problem isn’t returning the lands to them. It is that in returning it, the wards that surround the kingdom and keep it hidden from threats will be altered.
Lucien, to our surprise, nods. "That can be fixed."
"Very well," Rafe says, fingers entwining. "Lastly, asides the tributes and the return of war prisoners on both sides, it is important both kingdoms establishes enough of an agreement that will be honoured through generations to come and we both can trust that neither lands will be attacking the other. Marriage."
My heart stills. Lucien doesn’t look surprised. His lips curve into a smile. "A hostage situation, you mean." He tilts his head in my direction, which is all the acknowledgement I’ve gotten from him today, asides when he pulled out my seat for me and stopped me from drinking the water with a small nudge to my foot. "As you can see, I am spoken for."
It is Cecilia who speaks, gesturing towards the girl beside her in an elaborate sweep of hands. "This is Melene of House Marakech, a distant cousin of the King’s, but she has enough royal blood in her to be fit for a royal breeder."
I sit forward. *"What?"*
Silence falls over the hall. My head swings to Lucien, expecting him to say something. Anything. But he only stares at the girl across. "How old are you, child?"
She rises and I see she is taller than she seems. Fuller. And she lowers herself into a perfect courtsy, her hands folded over her belly carefully. "I am no child. I had my first bleed last fall."
When Lucien keeps staring expectantly, the girl smiles shyly. "Fourteen."
Even the humans look appalled by this. Evadne sucks in a deep breath. "You’re all insane."
Cecilia makes a point to look displeased by the comment, but she returns her foxy gaze to Lucien. "You must understand that Melene is a cherished part of our household and we do not give her away lightly. In exchange for her, you will send us Evadne Kaldrith as a bride to Sebastian of House Sky. After ours and House Marakech, House Sky is the wealthiest and most influential in all of Silvermoor. Sebastian is an Alpha in his rights and these alliances will bring more good than harm to both our kingdoms."
Evadne has gone rigid in her seat, her blue eyes fixed on Lucien, pleading, but I know of he decided to go along with it, she’d lower her head and tell him it is an honour.
Despite my reservations after last night, my hand falls on his thigh. "You cannot," I whisper. "You cannot give Eva away to them. You know what they’ll do to her."
He narrows violet-gold eyes at where I have held him, before bringing it back to my face, voice dropping low so only I can hear. "And the other part of it?" He nods towards the girl. "You’re fine with me breeding with someone else?"
I want to tell him no, but I cannot bring myself to say the words. So, I say harshly, "It wouldn’t be the first time you stuck your cock through anything with a hole."
He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw clenching, before he takes my hand from his thigh and wrenches it away.
I look over and find Rafe smiling at the interaction, Astrea watching keenly as well, and Cyrus’s brow rising with worry. I lean back in my chair, keeping a mask of calm over my features even if angry tears prickle at my eyes.
Lucien looks over at Sebastian, appraising him from his head down to his shoulders, his doublet, his hands and everything about his stare is condescending. "Evadne Kaldrith is royal. Daughter of the Earth. You think her worth so meager that I will have her wed to a common cup-bearer?"
Cyrus chokes on a sound and brings up his goblet to hide what I’m sure is laughter.
"I am no cupbearer," Sebastian bristles.
"A butler, then?"
"Enough," Rafael says, annoyance perking his eyebrows as he regards Lucien. "We have accorded you and yours with respect. You will regard us the same."
Lucien’s lips tighten at the tone and he straightens in his seat. "Ebonheart has heard your demands. You will have our response when we come to a decision."
Rafael leans back in his seat. "You speak like a man who has choices. After the last major loss you acquired, we know you cannot spare another war this soon. It’ll do you well not to make us wait too long on that response, for we could just as swiftly decide this truce isn’t quite worth our time, much like my ancestors did."
Lucien goes very still.
Rafe’s smile grows sinister as he watches the group of Lycan guards hovering over the door, as he takes in Trenton and Evadne. And me. "They do not know, do they?" he croons. "That you came to be captured. That we are not as weak and insignificant as you claim us to be."
There’s a silence in my head. Much too quiet. An ashen taste leaps onto my tongue.
"Tales are still told till this day of how the Great King *begged* and *grovelled*, little more than a gutter rat, while his pretty fairytale family was getting slaughtered. And what had he been up to while his wife was being defiled?" Rafael sneers, his smile ugly.
My heartbeat is so wild, I can hear it take every corner of my body. I begin trembling with wrath too large for my body to contain and the arm of my chair begins to crack as I try to reel it on, try to keep it in check, that blinding, destructive fury at what had been done to him--
"He was too busy getting his cock--"
I don’t know when my fingers close around the knife in the fruit’s tray. And before he can finish the sentence, the hilt of it is buried deep in Cecilia’s chest.
For a moment, no one speaks. Cecilia doesn’t even seem to realise she’s bleeding until the blood pools on the light blue fabric of her dress.
Melene screams.
Chaos, once again, erupts, as several guards burst forward, swords pointed every which way.