Chapter 41
Four. A High Lord. His wife. His second and third in command. That was all they deemed necessary.
I fought to keep my face neutral, but I knew the weight of it, the sheer audacity of it.
Silence settled between the two courts, charged and suffocating.
Elowyn shifted, and the light caught the delicate silver chains that draped from her temple to her cheekbone.
“Varyth,” Ashterion drawled, pulling my focus back to him. “It has been so long.”
“Not long enough,” Varyth retorted coolly, his fingers drumming once against the tabletop before stilling.
Xyliria let out a soft laugh, taking her seat beside her husband. “Oh, come now,” she purred. “We’ve come all this way. Surely you can at least pretend to be pleased to see us.”
“Pretending has never been one of my strengths.”
“Shame.” Xyliria tilted her head, a slow, intentional sweep from my face to my hand, where Varyth’s fingers rested on mine. Amusement flashed in her expression, and then she exhaled through her nose in what might have been a laugh.
“Well, well.” She let the silence stretch, then sliced through it with silk-wrapped mockery. “You brought your new pet. How quaint.”
Varyth tensed beside me, though his expression remained unchanged. Darian, on the other hand, let out a low snarl, trembling with the effort it took to restrain himself from lunging across the table.
I met Xyliria’s gaze evenly, refusing to let her see the irritation she’d ignited in me. “Isara,” I corrected smoothly. “But I can see a proper introduction might be difficult for someone so preoccupied with outdated notions of superiority.”
Xyliria’s eyes widened fractionally, surprise crossing her face before it settled back into its mask of cool amusement. “You’d think you’d have learned from the last time you addressed me,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “But I suppose humans aren’t the brightest creatures.”
Varyth leaned back in his chair. “Instead of insulting my court, perhaps you could enlighten us. What, exactly, is the purpose of this meeting?”
Xyliria rested her elbows on the arms of her chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin like she was about to deliver the world’s most entertaining lecture. “Why, to negotiate, of course.”
Fenric shifted beside me, tension bleeding from him in waves. “Negotiate what, exactly?”
“There is a former human sitting at this table,” Xyliria purred, letting each word drip like poison. “Who crossed the Veil with power that hasn’t been felt in centuries. Surely, Varyth, you cannot expect that we would simply allow this to go… unchecked.”
“It has nothing to do with you.” Varyth’s voice could have frozen the sun. His thumb traced another circle against my hand.
Xyliria tracked the motion. “Protecting a human. Have you gone soft?” Her eyes gleamed. “Is that what happens when you take one to bed?”
Varyth didn’t react, his face a mask of control, and his hand stayed locked with mine.
Xyliria only laughed, unbothered. “At least I had the sense to marry proper power.”
She turned sweetly toward Ashterion, letting her fingers trail down his arm in a slow, calculated stroke.
Ashterion flinched.
Barely, but I saw it. The faint tension in his shoulders, the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his gaze flicked to her hand. It was an intrusion he endured but didn’t welcome. No one else noticed. Or, at the very least, they didn’t acknowledge it.
I let out a laugh of my own. “You’re right, Xyliria. You married power. But tell me, what good is power if your own husband recoils from your touch?”
No one spoke. No one dared to.
Varyth’s fingers tightened around mine, the smallest squeeze of approval.
Xyliria’s smile sharpened, amusement turning cruel in an instant.
“Oh, darling.” She tapped one perfectly manicured nail against the table.
Once. Twice. A countdown, maybe. “It’s sweet that you think Varyth touching you means anything.
Humans are such desperate creatures, aren’t they?
You’ll take any scrap of affection and convince yourself it’s love. ”
I didn’t flinch, even as her words whipped through me.
Ashterion moved. His fingers threaded into Xyliria’s hair, curling at the nape of her neck. But he didn’t pull. He held her there, a thing meant to be seen, not felt.
I glanced between Elowyn and Merrick, tracking their expressions, looking for any sort of hint.
They looked tense—because of the circumstances, of course.
But there was something else there, tightly wound.
Merrick’s fingers drummed erratically against the table, Elowyn’s spine was almost too straight.
A thread of unspoken tension ran through them, through this whole interaction.
I decided to push again. I hummed thoughtfully, waving a dismissive hand at Xyliria.
“I didn’t realise consorts held the leashes of High Lords.” I laughed mockingly. “Or is it just that you’re eager to matter?”
“My wife is correct.” Ashterion’s voice was smooth, controlled, utterly devoid of anything resembling emotion. Like he’d carved out every feeling and locked it away where it couldn’t be used against him. “The power… I sensed it when you crossed. Whatever it is? It belongs to my court.”
“I belong to no one.” The words came out flat. Absolute.
Xyliria laughed—a sound like breaking glass wrapped in velvet. “Such spirit.”
She tilted her head, regarding me with the same interest a cat might show a mouse before deciding whether to toy with it or simply kill it.
“Tell me, High Lord,” she said, tracing a finger lazily along Ashterion’s arm. “We all know her kind are only good for one thing. And I’ve always heard that humans fuck like animals. Is it true?”
The snarl that ripped from Varyth was feral, pure rage and violence, shaking the air around us. His mist whipped wildly, lashing out against Ashterion’s darkness.
Xyliria’s laughed, light and cold. Her eyes glinted with malicious satisfaction. “Oh, how sensitive,” she cooed. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Perhaps… perhaps you’ll let others sample the human? Let them try her for themselves, see if she’s as special as you believe her to be.”
Before I could even react, Varyth’s response sliced through the moment. “You know,” he said, fixing his attention on Ashterion. “It’s ironic that such an offer comes from your bitch.”
He paused, letting the word sink in before continuing. “After all, I’ve heard certain things about you, Ashterion. Things about your… value to other courts.”
I saw the slightest shift in Ashterion’s posture. His smirk faltered for the briefest of moments.
But then, Ashterion laughed. “Truly, Varyth,” he said, smooth and sardonic. “Do you believe all the rumours you hear?”
Varyth looked at him as if he was stripping him to bone before the words even fell. “Hardly rumours,” he retorted, laced with venom. “I heard it from an… experienced source.”
My eyes darted between them, between the slow, taunting smirk on Varyth’s lips and Ashterion—whose face had tightened with an expression that almost looked like agony.
Varyth had torn at something fresh and bleeding.
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.
But Varyth just smiled, slow and cruel. He knew he’d hit his mark.
Ashterion’s fingers curled against the armrest. His shadows had thickened around him, pulsing faintly against the edges of the room. It was almost as though they were trying to shield him.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Whatever had passed between them, it was personal. I had the sickening sense that Varyth had cracked open something Ashterion had been trying very, very hard to keep buried.
Ashterion opened his mouth again, but before he could speak, Xyliria shifted in her seat, her hand disappearing under the table for the briefest moment. His mouth snapped shut, a fresh flinch tightening his jaw. A moment later, Xyliria’s hand reappeared, her expression composed.
Fenric cut through the tension, flat and unimpressed. “Was there an actual point to you calling this meeting?”
Her attention slid back to Varyth, and her expression shifted into something colder. More calculating. “Let me make this very simple for you, old friend. You have a choice.”
She paused, letting the weight of it settle over the table like a funeral shroud.
“Hand her over…” Another pause, deliberate and vicious. “Or kill her yourself.”
For a moment, the entire chamber fell silent.
Varyth went utterly still beside me. “Excuse me?”
Xyliria’s smile widened, all teeth and malice. “You heard me. Those are your options. Give us the human, and we’ll ensure she’s... well cared for. Or save us all the trouble and end her yourself. Either way, that power doesn’t remain in your court.”
“Over my dead body,” Varyth snarled.
“That can be arranged,” Ashterion said quietly, speaking for the first time since Varyth’s barb had found its mark. His voice was neutral, but a hollowness lingered beneath it. “Though I’d prefer to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”
“How generous of you,” Varyth replied, his tone dripping with disdain.
I felt the conversation spiralling toward violence, felt the way Varyth’s power pressed against the edges of his control. But something else nagged at me, the way Ashterion had flinched when Xyliria touched him, the way his shadows seemed to shield rather than threaten.
“You know what?” I said, cutting through the tension. “I’m getting really fucking tired of listening to you talk. Maybe if you spent less time running your mouth and more time actually learning what real strength looks like, you wouldn’t need to hide behind threats and your husband’s reputation.”
I leaned forward, matching her predatory smile with one of my own. “Tell me, does it hurt? Knowing that even with all your posturing and threats, you’re still just the accessory he tolerates? Must be exhausting, working so hard to matter.”