Chapter 16 #3
By the time we were inside the building, my head tipping up to marvel at the intricately carved ceiling, the crowd outside had dispersed.
Though the outside of the building had given the impression that this was a place for politics, the inside was bare—save for a table befitting a private restaurant placed in the center of the hall.
It was long, built for banquets and all-night conversations over wine. Wine that was already poured into carafes and laid out to breathe.
The Prince all but ran to the center, pouring himself a quick glass in an opulently decorated goblet, before turning back to us with a flourish. “Sit! This is a time for celebration.”
We were hesitant to comply, and even Elijah’s company moved slowly.
“I’m glad to see you are confident that we will leave these negotiations celebrating,” Soren began after everyone was seated, and I forced my lips together to hide a smile at the royal haughtiness that slipped into his voice.
Ford’s thigh pressed against mine under the table, noticing the same, and it was a miracle I didn’t jump right out of my skin.
“Considering not that long ago we thought an attack on our camp was imminent—more so than the existing dramatics.”
My chest clenched, but Soren knew was he was doing.
Evidenced by Caspian’s wide, bright smile.
“Ah, yes. You’ll excuse that. But I fear it was necessary, in a way.
” Caspian leaned back, hooking his elbow around the back of his chair and swirling his glass of wine.
“This is the first bit of progress we’ve made with you lot.
You’ve inspired hope.” He popped the p on the last word, a sarcastic choice that was not lost on anyone at the table.
Including Elijah, who said Caspian’s name in a low sound of warning.
Only fueling my curiosity further, Caspian straightened, taking heed, before he continued. “Your actions have not sowed confidence over the years. Invading our world and all that.”
There was a pregnant pause in the room. Yes, technically, we had been the ones to cross the Bridge first.
But Muli wasn’t some pacifist world brutalized by our force. The first scouts we’d sent across had come back through the Bridge in pieces, their bodies slumping onto the floor before their head rolled right past it.
The only person who had come back safe was Freya.
Once she had, and the priestesses confirmed it was that odd tattoo she’d borne since birth that helped her do it, our next journey across had been a large group, well-armed to deal with what might be waiting for them on the other side.
That had been bloody, and for many trips after, the skirmishes had painted the Bridge crimson.
My mouth opened, then closed, not wanting to interfere, then opened back up again when Bellamy gave me a subtle nod from across the table.
I was speaking before I could even form a coherent thought.
“We are here because we are clearly operating under two different histories. If Bellamy hadn’t discovered your family’s letters,” I said, focusing myself on Caspian so I didn’t get distracted.
I trusted Ford would fill in those gaps for me.
“We would not have known you’d been brokering for peace. ”
Caspian’s lower lip turned down, an impressed little smirk that I didn’t quite appreciate.
“We cannot negotiate properly if we do not understand your motivations, nor your history,” Bellamy tacked on. “Before we start any formal discussions, I think it best to all agree that our ultimate goal is an end to this war—”
“Not our trade, I hope,” Caspian cut in with pointed look at the bracelets stacked on my wrist, half of which were embedded with Muli rubies. He looked like he wanted to say more, but something stopped him, whether that be the displeased growl that left Soren’s throat or something else.
“And begin a new relationship,” Bellamy continued as if she’d never been interrupted. “Trade is a priority, yes. Education, as well. We have much to learn from you, and dare I say, you from us.”
Though it was a distant consideration, one that plagued my own mind constantly. We needed to know why people on Muli were born with their Marks, while we had to undergo a painful procedure at the hands of a priestess to discover ours.
“Very well,” Caspian said after a moment. He turned to Elijah with a sly grin. “You were right, I’m afraid. I expected there to be blood spilled already.”
“If you count Bellamy’s leg, we’ve already started,” Ford said, a dry quip under his breath, but in the silence of the room, it was unavoidable.
Though I felt Freya tensing on my other side, I hoped that—
Caspian’s booming laughter shook the painted glass adorning the windows. “Ah, see!” His smile was thick with glee. “Humor is the universal language.” Then, to me, “I understand you a little better now, serpenia.”
“Why don’t we focus on something a little more helpful, Caspian,” Elijah said, the lazy quality to his voice a little tenser than normal.
“Perhaps introductions?” Bellamy said, nodding to the mysterious older woman. Though I really should know who she was, especially if she was the queen herself, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to care.
Not when the endearment Caspian had used, a variation of the word for snake in the old language, was clanging through my head like a rang bell.
“Right! Silly me.” I was starting to understand Caspian now.
His youth was still very present, preventing him from fully understanding the consequences of his actions.
His flowery speeches were certainly impressive and it was clear he was intelligent, but he didn’t strike me as someone who had much capacity for self-preservation.
A poor quality to have in a leader. That was what Elijah was for, it seemed.
“This is my dear aunt, Cornelia,” Caspian said, gesturing to his right.
Cornelia smiled softly, nodding once. “His mother’s sister.” Ah, so the near-queen. She seemed to wear her status well, though sometimes resentment was well-masked.
“And you’ve met Elijah,” Caspian said, waiving his hand dismissively. “And even then, he needs no introduction.”
“He’s a good deal older than you,” Soren said, rolling his lips together to hide a grin. “How did this…friendship develop? A family relation, perhaps?”
Oddly enough, out of everyone, it was Cornelia that was unable to hide her reaction quick enough. You’d think Soren simply inquired about the weather based off all that emotion Caspian and Elijah showed in response.
Cornelia’s right shoulder pinched, so slight you’d miss it if you weren’t looking right at her. I had my instincts to thank in that regard.
Ford’s too. His hand fell to my knee, squeezing once. Just a little touch, a reassurance that he either saw what I did or knew that I’d observed something important.
Oh, thank God, the Bond and I said in unison when Ford kept his hand there. A second later, my arm started to buzz with warmth and my eyes flicked down just to make sure it wasn’t on fire.
That would have been a better alternative than finding my hand on top of Ford’s, holding his palm to my knee. I blinked once, sure that when I opened my eyes it would turn out to just be one of those little daydreams I’d used to lose myself in.
But no, no my hand was really there. And I’d either lost my mind even further and tightened my grip or Ford squeezed my leg again.
“Let go,” he said low, with a curve to his mouth, “Or I’m doing it again.”
“Do you like your bones in tact?” I said, too addled to keep a grin off my lips.
Ford’s answering chuckle drugged me stupid for a second, enough for him to slide his hand away with a torturous pace, fighting a smile the entire time. I begged myself to fight back, to say something snippy in return, but couldn’t manage it.
Not when there was a pleasant warmth spreading to my chest, not at all fueled by the Bond. It was just…God, it was just nice to tease him. To be teased back.
There was a word for that, but if I acknowledged it—
I’m sick of you. He’s flirting.
Well. This version of the Bond had clearly matured in true spirit slumber, resorting to much more sophisticated ways of messing with my head. Much harder to ignore than its babbling swings of emotion.
As if Ford could hear the Bond himself, his mouth curved up just a bit further before turning back to the table in time for Caspian to say, “There is plenty of time to discuss the intricacies of my family tree through the course of our negotiations.”
“Just how long are you planning on keeping us here?” Bellamy said, her voice entirely sweet. Her particular brand of sweet that hinted at a slight threat.
“You are free to leave whenever you please,” Caspian responded carefully, the first time he’d spoken with a measured tone.
“Though leaving would inherently be seen as a refusal to continue negotiations,” Elijah said, keeping his eyes on his swirling glass of liquor.
Soren’s low snort skittered across the table. “Understood.”
Functionally trapped, then.
Caspian waved a hand dismissively, readjusting in his chair as he did so. “Oh, so dramatic. I’d prefer to have these discussions when everyone is well-rested and well-fed. You all had quite the journey.”
Nearly four hours of a hard ride, but the adrenaline was preventing me from truly feeling it.
“Now, I can’t do anything about rest until you see your accommodations, but I can certainly do something about the food,” Caspian said. A mere second after he finished speaking, people started pouring out of doors with plates of food piled high.
To everyone’s credit, they served us plates of a carefully constructed collection of vegetables and a small bowl of soup with steady hands. I thought I saw a little shakiness as Elijah was served, though it was my soup that ended up with a splash onto the plate underneath it.