Keshel dipped his head in polite greeting, but his face remained shuttered and distant. Marai was the sole woman in the room, and, as usual, she assessed each individual, and every escape route. Both Marai and Keshel’s postures were so rigid, Ruenen almost laughed. They were identical in their standoffishness.

“Lord Keshel is the Ambassador for the Fae and Magical Folk,” Holfast explained to the wide-eyed Witan, “and Lady Marai is . . . the prince’s personal guard.”

“Is that not what the King’s Guard is for?” Vorae mumbled next to Ruenen.

“There’s no one I trust more than Marai,” said Ruenen, raising his voice and whetting it sharp as a dagger. Those vibrant eyes flashed to him and pinned him in place. Ruenen swallowed and had to look away.

Stay focused.

He held up the letter from Nieve. “I received a response from the Queen of Grelta.”

“So soon?” Holfast asked, taken aback.

“I have a rather fleet-footed messenger,” said Ruenen under his breath.

The Witan perked up, straightening in their chairs, leaning closer to the table. Ruenen handed the letter to Holfast, whose dark eyes rapidly read the text with a frown.

“What does she say?” asked Fenir.

“She states that she and King Maes would be interested in discussing an alliance, but only if I personally go to Grelta for the meeting.”

“Well, that’s preposterous,” huffed Vorae. “We’re not going to send our prince all the way to the North when you’ve just announced yourself.”

“I agree,” Holfast said, passing the note to the black robed man next to him. “The journey is too far and too perilous this close to battle. We cannot risk losing you. Rayghast has heightened both his defenses and incursions. There are soldiers stationed along all roads in the Middle Kingdoms, waiting to confront any Nevandians they find.”

“Nieve knows this,” another councilman said with a grimace. “She knows it’s too dangerous for our prince. She’s an arrogant bitch.”

“That bitch has every reason to be cautious,” came a lethal, silky voice from behind the throne.

The Witan jumped and flinched at the sound.

Nosficio, covered in his cloak, revealed himself. How long had he been there? How had he gotten in without being noticed?

Vorae shot to his feet. “Intruder! Guards!”

Avilyard and his men raised their weapons, sweeping in towards Nosficio.

“Wait,” Ruenen jumped from his seat, raising his arms to halt the King’s Guard, who’d closed in from all sides.

Nosficio’s eyes burned bright. All movement stopped. The guards, weapons raised, stared from Ruenen to Nosficio.

“He’s my guest. Please, lower your weapons,” said Ruenen.

Avilyard gestured and his guards retreated back a few steps. The Witan, however, remained frozen. Keshel’s eyes had widened as understanding clicked into place. He glanced at Marai, who gave him a brief shrug.

“This is . . . Lord Nosficio,” said Ruenen as Nosficio stalked forward from behind the throne. “He’s my emissary to the North.”

“I’ve heard of him,” a councilman said, pointing a shaking finger. “He’s that murderous vampire!”

Two members of the Witan shot out of their seats and rushed for the door. Guards raised their swords again. A few people yelled and cursed. Nosficio smirked, showing off his fangs, enjoying this chaos.

“Faeries, and now v-vampires?” another councilman stammered.

Vorae pounded his fist on the table. “We cannot condone this, Your Highness. Nevandia isn’t a sideshow spectacle!”

“Kill him,” one council member shouted at Avilyard. “Kill them all!”

Ruenen got to his feet. A calm fury rushed through him. “There will be none of that. Nosficio, like the fae, has pledged himself to our cause. He wishes to defeat Rayghast, as we all do. It would be ignorant of us to reject his assistance, not when we’re so vastly outnumbered. We need every man.”

“He’s not a man, Your Highness,” Fenir said, owlish eyes nearly popping out from his head. “He’s a vampire, one I’ve also heard of before. He’s Nieve’s sanguinary plaything.”

Nosficio lifted his chin. “If I am, as you say, Nieve’s plaything, I would then have tremendous insight into the Queen, the King, and the Glacial Palace. And not to worry, dear Witan, I already ate this morning.”

No one moved. The two councilmen hovering near the door behind the guards seemed ready to wet their pants.

Marai released a grumbling sigh. “If he tries anything, I’ll kill him.”

Nosficio grinned at her, but Marai’s statement eased some of the Steward’s concern.

Holfast turned to a guard standing protectively at his side. “Please procure another chair for our . . . guest.”

The guard hesitated, then grabbed one of the spare wooden chairs lined against the wall. He placed the chair next to Marai, and Nosficio took a slow, purposeful seat.

“Then, Emissary, let us return to the problem at hand,” Holfast continued. The two men who stood returned to their seats, but their rears barely touched the cushions, as if ready to bolt again. “We cannot send our prince to Grelta, but we do need their soldiers. We shall send an ambassador in the prince’s stead.”

“I will go,” said one of the quieter men at the table. He then addressed Ruenen. “I used to be Ambassador to Grelta, back when Nevandia had better political standing. I still receive friendly correspondence from several Greltan council members.”

“Thank you, Lord Goso—” Holfast said.

“Nieve won’t accept an ambassador,” Nosficio said, and all heads swiveled to him. “For something as major as a wartime alliance, she expects to be treated with respect. She’ll only negotiate with Prince Ruenen. She made that clear in her letter.”

“Then she’s being unreasonable,” shouted Vorae. Beads of sweat dappled his brow. “We’ll send Lord Goso, and she will negotiate with him. We don’t have time to send His Highness to Grelta.”

“But if Lord Goso fails, what then?” asked Keshel.

Nosficio regarded him with interest; Ruenen watched the vampire sniff the air in Keshel’s direction.

“We’ll have wasted more valuable time trying to strengthen our forces, to come away with nothing. If a meeting must be held, it must be done immediately, and to the queen’s specifications. Rayghast could strike us at any time. We need those soldiers now.” For someone who was sitting in on his first war council, Keshel certainly knew what to say. A few murmurs traveled up and down the table. “Nevandia is desperate. Sometimes, drastic measures must be taken.”

This last sentence was said sharply. Ruenen didn’t miss his meaning. Allying with faeries and vampires was certainly a drastic measure for a kingdom who abhorred magical folk. Most of the Witan had taken significant convincing to be in the same room as Marai and Keshel.

“I can take them,” said Marai. “I’ll take Prince Ruenen and Lord Goso to the Glacial Palace and back.”

Vorae scoffed. “That doesn’t solve the problem of time–”

“It does if it takes a mere moment to get there.”

The table hushed. Next to Marai, Keshel stiffened and shot her a silent warning. The muscles in Ruenen’s stomach constricted. She wasn’t really going to tell them, was she?