Raife came next and sat beside Vorae, who stared at the fae male open-mouthed, face mottled with red spots. Ever so slowly, the others took the remaining seats. Kadiatu shrunk low in hers next to Leif, but her eyes still peered up at the portraits on the walls with child-like wonder.
“So here we all are. The rest of the Witan will join us in the next meeting. I thought a smaller gathering might be best at first,” said Holfast.
Ruenen nodded in understanding, trying to think of the proper way kings would act at council meetings. He quickly crossed his legs and sat up taller.
“I must say . . . this has never happened in the history of our nation,” continued Holfast. “Never before have we shared a table with magical folk.”
“That’s because you were too busy killing us,” snapped Leif.
Everyone at the table stiffened.
Holfast considered Leif, nonplussed. “I suppose you’re correct, fae warrior. What may we call you?”
“Leif.”
“Do not forget, Master Leif, that your people are also guilty of crimes against humans. We’re all at fault, as Lady Marai reminded us yesterday.”
“Lady Marai?” coughed Aresti across the table, earning a scandalized look from Thora.
Marai ignored her, not taking her eyes from Leif, who seemed ready to pounce across the table at Holfast.
“Both parties are here to come to a peace agreement, not to hash out the past,” Ruenen said, voice rising in what he hoped was an authoritative way. “If we all work together, I believe we can create a better Nevandia. That’s the goal here, isn’t it?”
“As delightful as that sounds, that can only happen once we have defeated Tacorn,” Vorae droned, still avoiding acknowledging Raife beside him. “What ways do you think you can help Nevandia?”
“First thing’s first: we were promised homes and lands of our own in Nevandian territory,” said Keshel.
Holfast latched his eyes onto him, sensing Keshel was the leader of the fae.
Keshel did give off a courtly presence, with his erect posture, as he said, “This is absolutely paramount. We won’t lift a finger unless our safety is guaranteed. The question is, then, Lord Steward, what will you do to earn our trust?”
It was a toss-up between Keshel and Holfast on who had the best deadpan expression. The Steward’s face remained neutral, but Ruenen sensed the room taking a collective breath.
“I’ve set aside two cottages on the outskirts of the city. Their previous tenants fled to Tacorn several months ago due to the poor harvests. They’ve been vacant ever since. The cottages belong to you now. The deeds are here, ready to sign,” Holfast said, indicating the papers before him on the table, “but you will need to clean them and make fixes on your own.”
“That will do adequately; we don’t mind manual labor,” said Keshel.
“We need another written agreement; a decree between fae and humans that all citizens must respect,” Ruenen said, “stating that any harm or prejudice against the fae will be severely punished.”
Fenir and Vorae grimaced, but Holfast nodded. “The agreement must go both ways. It must state that no faerie may harm any citizen of this kingdom. Humans aren’t toys for your sport.”
“I believe we can agree to that,” said Keshel evenly. “And humans never were toys to the fae. Certainly not to us.”
Leif leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a roll of his eyes in a way that was so Marai that Ruenen smirked.
“I’m also appointing Lady Marai and Lord Keshel to be advisors on the Witan,” Ruenen added.
Marai shot him a startled look as the table hushed. Ruenen knew she didn’t want to take part in politics. She believed herself merely useful on the battlefield, but he couldn’t do this without her. He was stronger, steadier with her at his side.
“Faeries on the Witenagemot?” griped Fenir, shaking his head.
Marai’s fierce, cold eyes snapped to him. “Do you want to give up your country? Become a Tacornian slave? You of the Witan will be the first Rayghast decapitates. I hope you’re ready, because without us, you’re doomed.”
Fenir ground his teeth, but said nothing back, cowed by Marai’s severe tone. The voice of the Lady Butcher sent a thrilling shiver down Ruenen’s spine.
“We’re quite aware of what will happen to our country if this war drags on any longer,” Holfast said. “We’re here today out of desperation. Will you agree to help us defeat Tacorn?”
Keshel glanced up and down the table solemnly. All of the fae nodded, expressions so dark that the act was similar to digging their own graves. “Marai, Aresti, Leif, and Raife are skilled warriors. Thora is an expert healer, and Kadiatu can help her tend the wounded.”
Ruenen noted that Keshel failed to mention his own gifts.
Holfast nodded, face smoothing over with satisfaction. “We’re grateful for your assistance, but I hope you understand that not everyone will be as accepting as we three are.” Marai snorted as she glanced at Fenir. “We’ve already received criticism from the other members of this council who weren’t invited here with us today, for that very reason.”
“We know prejudices run deep. We hope we’ll be able to change people’s minds when they see we’re here to help them,” Thora said quietly, keeping her head bowed.
“Your healing skills will be quite useful and appreciated,” said Holfast. The gentleness in his voice caused Thora to raise her head and meet his eyes. “What of Queen Nieve and Grelta? Any news from them?”
“We have a messenger returning soon with her response,” Ruenen said. He’d followed through on one end of the deal. He hoped Nosficio would come through with the other. Without Northern forces, there would be no victory. “We’re hopeful.”
Holfast nodded. “We’ll draft up an agreement, then, later today.”
“I must be part of the drafting,” Keshel said.
“Agreed. Keshel shall serve as the official ambassador of the fae,” Ruenen announced, garnering a brief look from Keshel. The faerie male didn’t like him; it was clear from his cold behavior, but Ruenen hoped Keshel would see that he was trying.
Holfast’s lips twitched. “Very well, then. All members of the Witenagemot and fae should sign this decree.”
The room lapsed into silence. Waiting. Ruenen knew what everyone was thinking . . . what next?
