servant typically served at dinner.
She spoke as she worked.
“It’s been an interesting few weeks. Your arrival and the news you brought, the meeting of the Evant and the assembly of the army-”
“Envoy,” Aeren interrupted, without thinking.
The Tamaea froze, a skewer of meat half-raised toward her plate, her eyes on him. They held steady for a moment, then dropped as she set the skewer down slowly and handed him the bowl. “I’d hoped that this could be an open discussion. One where we could share information, without any dissembling.” She locked eyes with him, the smile no longer present, her expression hard and serious, her hands in her lap. “This is not an envoy. Not anymore. Not since we were joined by the Phalanx at the border. This is an army. Both of us know this.”
Silence settled. A silence Aeren felt against his skin, tingling. A silence intensified by the Tamaea’s unwavering gaze.
Aeren set the bowl of skewered meat down with a sigh. “I’d hoped that this would be an end to the conflict with the dwarren. I’d hoped
… many things. But you are correct, Tamaea. This is an army.”
She didn’t move. “The scout.”
Aeren nodded. He glanced down at the food on his plate, no longer hungry.
“What news did he bring?”
“The Tamaell has not told you?”
“The Tamaell has chosen not to inform me.”
He could leave. He knew that. He was a Lord of the Evant, and the Tamaea need not concern herself with the dealings of the Evant, of the lords and the Tamaell.
But Aeren knew that the Tamaell had something planned, Khalaek as well. He had Lotaern as an ally, and Lord Barak. Perhaps the Tamaea knew more than she thought.
He hesitated a moment more, staring into the Tamaea’s eyes, then said quietly, “To alliances then.”
The decision made, he felt as though a weight was lifted from his shoulders.
The Tamaea relaxed as well, her posture softening. “What news did the scout bring?” she repeated.
“He brought news that the human army-the Legion-has gathered on the border with over five thousand men, led by King Stephan. And approximately four days ago, they entered the plains, moving to intercept us.”
The Tamaea’s body froze, the only movement a slight widening of her eyes. For a moment, she didn’t even breathe.
Then she let out her breath in a low sigh, nearly a moan. “It’s the Escarpment all over again.”
Aeren frowned, taking a bit of meat from a skewer, chewing it thoughtfully. “Yes… and no.”
“What do you mean?” the Tamaea snapped. “All three races, coming together with armies at their backs, two of them under an ostensible agreement of peace-” She choked on her words, shook her head in frustration, turning to stare at the side of the tent. Aeren watched as tears glistened in her eyes, the only crack in the armor of rage she’d laid over herself. But no tears fell. She held them back, her entire body trembling with the effort.
Aeren let her grapple with the anger in silence, nibbling at his food. But he watched.
And sooner than expected, the hard edges of rage in her face softened, her eyes widening with dawning horror.
She turned to him and whispered, “What has Fedorem done? What has he planned?”
Aeren pushed his plate aside and looked at her. “I don’t know.” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he forged on. “None of the Evant knows, as far as I can discern.”
“Not even Khalaek?” The bitterness and hatred in her voice made him smile.
“Not even Khalaek.” He hesitated. “I believe Khalaek is playing his own game.”
“Khalaek is always playing his own game. What do you think it is this time?” When Aeren didn’t answer immediately, she asked, “Does it have anything to do with your human friend?”
Aeren felt his face go blank, unintentionally, a reaction learned on the floor of the Evant. “Yes and no.”
“You are too fond of that answer.”
Aeren smiled. “I have not shared this with any other Lords of the Evant, not even with the Tamaell. Mostly because neither Lotaern nor I know exactly what is happening. But it seems to be connected to Lord Khalaek.”
“Lotaern knows?”
“It has to do with the sarenavriell.”
The Tamaea’s eyebrows rose, but she nodded for him to continue.
And he did. He told her of the warning brought to him by Colin from the Faelehgre. He told her of Benedine and his research, of his meeting with one of Khalaek’s attendants, of his death. He told her of the awakening of the Wells and what little he knew of Colin’s powers. He told her everything, including Colin’s return to the forest to check up on the Faelehgre and their progress and that Colin had volunteered to return again when they’d halted unexpectedly today.
She accepted it all in silence, staring down at her hands. When he was done, she looked up, her eyes more troubled than before, somehow deeper and darker. “And you have not told the Tamaell?”
He shook his head with a frustrated snort and shrugged. “Lotaern has informed the Tamaell of the awakening of the sarenavriell and the reason for the attacks on the eastern Houses by the sukrael. As for the link between that and Khalaek… what is there to tell? We have no proof of anything. And then-” He cut himself off.
“And then what?” She stared at him in confusion, and in her eyes he saw sudden comprehension. “You think the Tamaell may be involved somehow.” The realization was followed immediately by anger. “Fedorem would never conspire with Khalaek-”
“Wouldn’t he? What happened at the Escarpment, then? Can you say without doubt that he did not conspire with Khalaek to bring about Maarten’s death?”
That brought the Tamaea up short. He could see her struggling with words, trying to come to her husband’s defense, to the Tamaell’s defense…
But in the end, she sagged with defeat. “No. I cannot say that without doubt.” Her voice hardened. “But I do not believe that Fedorem is conspiring with Khalaek. And especially not with the sukrael or these… these Wraiths. I refuse to believe it.”
She said it with such vehemence that Aeren felt himself relaxing. He hadn’t known how the Tamaea would react to the implied deceit.
“Even if Fedorem isn’t dealing with the Wraiths, Khalaek is. And neither Lotaern nor I have any idea why.”
The Tamaea pursed her lips in thought. “Everything Khalaek has done since he ascended in his House has been to bring him closer to the Tamaell. He wants to rule the Evant.”
“He wants to rule the Alvritshai,” Aeren countered.
“Is there a difference?”
Aeren didn’t answer. “What do you think the Tamaell will do about the Legion?”
It was not a question he would normally have asked the Tamaea. She was not a lord, was not part of the Evant. But the fact that she had called him here, the fact that she understood immediately what the presence of the Legion meant…
She watched him silently for a long moment, but he could not read her expression. All of her thoughts were hidden.
Like a lord.
“I think,” she said, then paused, drawing in a deep breath, letting it out with a weary sigh. “I think he cannot afford to ignore the presence of the Legion.”
Aeren nodded and found himself regarding the Tamaea with new eyes. “He can’t,” he said, and shifted so he could rise, gathering himself to depart. The Tamaea did not stop him. “He won’t.”
“Then we are headed toward war. Again.”
Aeren felt a flare of anger. “It would appear so.” He turned toward the tent’s opening.
“What about the dwarren? Will he still seek out the dwarren?”
Aeren paused, one hand on the soft material of the flap, holding it back.
In the corridor outside, he saw a flicker of movement, a blurred shadow, nothing more.
