He smiled sleepily at her, eyelids halfway over his great blue eyes. “My secrets,” he told her. He wrapped his robe tighter around him and looked around the room again. “What are you two doing?”
“Making sure no wars are started tonight,” Draven replied as he continued to set plates on the tables.
“Why not?” Dorian asked with a yawn. “I thought a great war was what we were preparing for,” he replied.
“That’s a different war,” Aydra argued. “One that we need to have everyone on the same page for.”
Draven’s gaze suddenly narrowed at her. “You’re going to bring up the ships, aren’t you?” he asked.
She stopped moving for only a brief second, and then quickly started folding the napkins in her hands. “Maybe.”
“Aydra—”
She turned away from him, creasing the cloth violently in her hands as she waited for the words she knew he would utter. “You cannot stop me.”
“Aydra, you can’t—”
She started across the room, and he grasped her arm, whirling her back around to face him.
“You don’t know the Blackhands,” he argued. “If you start off talking about war, they will think they have been ambushed into this meeting to bow at your feet. You will start something you cannot control. Do you not remember the last time you brought them up?”
“Then what is the point of all this?” she almost shouted, wrenching her arm away from him. “What is the point of bringing every leading member of the Echelon together in this room if not to talk about the strangers on our shores? What else is there to discuss?”
“Trading routes, goods, the slaves of the northern Blackhand town, Infi persons in the streets, peace-keeping initiatives—”
She almost laughed, her head shaking at his last words. “Peace keeping initiatives…” Her head shook and she sat her hands on her hips. “The only peace these people will ever see is if we get rid of the strangers on our shores. We have to talk about it.”
“And we will—” he stepped forward and took her hand in his. “But we have to play their games first. You cannot run out of the gate talking about war and invasion. Let them talk their politics, and when your brother tries to end the meeting, bring it up as a last note. You have my full support. You have the word of Nadir and his men, along with Lovi. But you have to be smart about it. We have to present this as something we merely need aid to prevent. Not as the start of a great war between the entirety of this land and some strangers. The only thing we know about them is that they refer to themselves as Man—”
“It will become a great war if we do not handle it.”
“I know,” he affirmed, squeezing her hands. “I know. And I agree. But we have to play the politics.”
A great exhale left her, and her jaw clenched as she glared at him. “Fine.”
Dorian was still standing beside them, and his gaze darted between the pair. A servant walked by with food on a tray, and he grabbed it out of her hands, popping a grape back in his mouth.
“So what food have you two ordered for this meeting? Anything good?”
Aydra’s tense body relaxed, and a great sigh left her as she felt Draven wrap his arms sideways around her. She tossed one of the grapes from the tray playfully at Dorian’s face.
“You’re the worst,” she muttered at him.
The creak of the servants’ door at the back of the room opened, and in walked a petite hooded figure that Aydra frowned at the sight of. None of the servants walking around seemed to be bothered by the person coming in.
“Nyssa?” she called out.
Nyssa jumped, and scarlet hair fell from beneath the hood. She grabbed onto her chest and turned to face them, obvious she had just been startled. “Drae,” she managed, widened eyes looking around them. “I didn’t expect—” she paused and looked around them then, apparently just noticing the grand table being set up. “What’s going on here?”
“No, no,” Aydra argued, brows furrowed as she slowly stepped towards her sister. “Why are you sneaking around through the servants’ tunnels with your hood up?”
Nyssa’s mouth opened and closed, weight shifting under Aydra’s gaze. “I—I was just going to the kitchens for food,” she stammered, fumbling with her fingers. “Bit famished and light-headed after banquet last night. I can still feel the wine going through me—”
Nyssa’s eyes darted anxiously from her hands, to the floor, and to Aydra’s own. Her cheeks were as flushed as her hair, and Aydra slowed her stride as she stepped up to face her. Aydra’s arms hugged around her chest, and she gave her sister a full once over.
“Mmhmm…” Aydra muttered through her closed mouth, eyeing Nyssa’s avoided gaze.
Dorian snorted behind them, and Nyssa cut her eyes at him over Aydra’s shoulder.
It was then Aydra noticed why Nyssa had her hood up.
Aydra reached forward and pushed Nyssa’s hood back, followed by her hair. She felt her lips twisting, and she raised a brow at the raised blood marks on her sister’s throat.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Aydra mocked.
Dorian burst into laughter that echoed around the room. Nyssa’s jaw tightened. “Shut up, Dorian!” she nearly shouted.
At first, Aydra smirked at her blushing sister, obviously flushed that she’d been caught out of sorts and bringing food back to whatever person it was that had adorned her bed the night before. But the way her sister avoided her gaze made Aydra pause.
And then, the realization of who it was that she was sure had joined Nyssa in her bed hit her like an anvil.
Aydra audibly gasped, eyes widened. “No!—what— Nyssa!”
“And we’re leaving,” Draven’s hands grasped Aydra’s shoulders and he tried to pull her away.
Aydra pulled her arms away from him, mouth still agape. “The
