Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
DAHLIA
They’d trussed her up like a warrior queen.
Dahlia wore thick black leathers, over the knee boots with silver buckles, and a thickly knitted tight sweater that looked lacy and delicate but was the warmest thing she’d ever worn.
She ran her fingers over the pauldrons and vambraces cut to look like the feathers of an astrylle.
Flyka had tried to outfit Lia with a chest plate, but it wasn’t created for someone with breasts, so it was tossed in the pile of unusable garments.
She fiddled nervously with the hem of her sweater, sitting on the table while Flyka braided her hair. They’d come to an understanding.
The Haunt wouldn’t kill her as long as Dahlia played her part.
Loshika would be safe and Neve would give Lia the reward money.
Afterall, there was no stipulation as to whom the information had to come from.
Dahlia had turned herself in, she should receive the reward money.
The Frost King was not pleased.“Stop slouching. You’re the queen, for qovving sakes,” Flyka grumbled, her nimble fingers tying off the braid. “You’re done.”
Lia hopped off the table, her new cloak puddling on the floor. The bloody thing was still too long even though it had been meant for a Loriian child. “How do I look?”
“You will do.” The Haunt crossed her arms. “Are you prepared for what comes next?”
“Yes.” She’d been rehearsing the story all day long.
Once Neve had accepted her deal, he left the tent in barely suppressed rage, leaving Lia to her own devices until Flyka had arrived with a plan of action.
They couldn’t go with the story that Lia had been kidnapped.
Too many had seen someone of her stature leave with Loshika.
But they could sell the tale that she’d been threatened many times among his court, which was true, and that when Neve had been attacked, she knew there was no safe place for her in the Loriian court, so she ran.
It was cowardly, but something Lia could live with.
It didn’t paint Loshika in a bad light nor was it as horrible as the truth.
“Why did you flee?” Flyka fired off.
“Because I was scared,” Lia replied. No one expected anything different from a human, and that part was the truth. She was scared out of her mind for her family.
“You didn’t return home? Why?”
“Because war was already waging and getting across the border was nearly impossible.”
“Will you betray our king?”
“No.” One simple word. No hesitation. She meant it.
“Why didn’t you help the king?”
“I did. I sent a healer to him as I fled the palace.”
Flyka sniffed, her brows raising. “That smelled like the truth.”
“Because it is.” Lia shrugged. “My conscience wouldn’t let me leave without sending help. How do you think a healer discovered him so quickly?”
“Why did you do it?”
Lia froze. There was no answer that would not give away her secrets. “Because I had to.” She shrugged. “That is the whole of it.”
“I very much doubt that,” Flyka said dryly. “Death is a choice.”
“So says the assassin.” She adjusted the tiny dagger handle from the thick leather belt cinched around her waist. “Why would you give me a weapon?”
“First of all, because you are no threat. Second, it makes you seem more Loriian, which is what we want. The advisors need to see you on our side, not the humans’.”
They stared at each other before the Haunt released a sigh. “It is time, and you’ll have to do.”
Dahlia swallowed hard, shoved down every shred of fear, and focused on being pragmatic and cool. “Tell me again why this meeting is not happening here?”
“Because the reillov willed it so.”
She followed Flyka from the tent. The gazes of the Haunts ran over her before scouring the nearby camp. To the left, an enormous fire roared with dozens of warriors perched on logs eating their dinner. Serenity launched into air and soared above, heralding the human queen with an astrylle familiar.
The laughter faded, and whispers rose as Lia walked past them, her head held high. They followed the slippery trail that had been cut into the snow, leaving the warriors to their rumors.
Dahlia soaked in as much of the camp as she could see in the dark. All the tents were identical except for their size, which varied. It was a sea of canvas with a labyrinth of looping pathways cut into the deep snow. “How brilliant,” she breathed, running her fingers along the crystalline walls.
“What?” Flyka tossed over her shoulder.
“The way the camp is organized. No one would know which one is the king’s. Everything is the same shade, and the pathways seem to hold no rhyme or reason. If the Asterans ever made it this far, it would be very difficult for them to find what they were looking for.”
“It’s a pity you are not stupider.” Their pathway ended at a large nondescript tent with several Haunts stationed outside.
They nodded and signed to Flyka, their hands forming an intricate language. Flyka signed back before tossing a look Lia’s way. “Come on, then.”
Dahlia looked at the four Haunts, their white armor standing out in the darkness. She signed, “Thank you for your help.”
She wasn’t sure how much Asteran sign would translate over into Loriian, but she’d picked up some of the language during her travels with the theater troupe.
One of the jugglers had a deaf son whom Cosmos had dearly loved.
They’d become fast friends, which meant Lia had spent a lot of time with the two.
The shortest of the Haunts cracked a smile, revealing several of his teeth to be capped with gold points. With a bite like that, he could tear out anyone’s throat. The bite on her shoulder throbbed at the thought. She gave him a wide smile. She had nothing to fear from this warrior.
As long as you play your part.
Flyka’s gaze was shrewd as she held up the tent flap. “You are an annoying puzzle, Reilleve.”
The use of honorifics.
Time for the show to begin.
The warmth wasn’t overwhelming as she stepped inside a tent that was almost identical to the one she’d been staying; the notable differences were that the table was lined with chairs and filled with faces both familiar and unfamiliar.
Don’t cower.
All gazes were on her, assessing, looking for weakness, but what unnerved her the most was a pair of human irises. What was a human doing here?
Two chairs at the end of the table were open, but all others were filled. Her stomach quivered. No one had coached her on this part, but she knew for certain that if she sat in one of the empty ones, it would be a slap in the face to the Frost King.
With slow even steps, she walked around the table until she reached Neve’s side. Even sitting down, she had to look up at him. He lounged in the chair like it was his personal throne. The Frost King spread his thick thighs wider as if in a challenge, the leather straining over muscle.
Dahlia didn’t hesitate.
She stepped between his legs and then perched herself on his hard thigh. Lia tossed her cloak over the arm of the wooden chair and didn’t flinch when Neve’s large hand cupped her hip possessively.
Here we go.
Meeting the gazes of the war council wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought it would be. She latched onto Olwen’s dancing eyes first. “Commander,” she murmured in acknowledgement.
He placed a fist over his hearts. “Reilleve, it’s nice to see you.”
She looked to the pretty giantess on Olwen’s right, her nose pierced so many times, it was as if there was a trail of diamonds marching down the slope of her nose on each side.
“Vidielle, my lady,” the giantess stated, her tone gruff. “I am glad you are safe.”
“As am I.” She wasn’t sure if she was safe, but it was as good as it got.
Next came an older male sitting at Neve’s right with mint-colored skin and silver hair. He stroked his green-and-white goatee and smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “I am called Abeo. It is my pleasure to meet you, lae reilleve.”
What pretty manners. She had a feeling he was a very smooth talker and quick thinker. She’d have to be careful with that one.
Finally, she looked to the willowy woman sitting in between Abeo and Flyka. The human. She wore a flat-brimmed hat over her deep auburn hair, trousers, beat-up boots, and a woolen vest over the top of a very practical tan tunic.
Very un-Asteran.
How interesting.
Her brown eyes were assessing Lia too. The tall woman stood from her chair and bowed deeply. “My queen, I am Chemaine.”
“A pleasure,” she replied.
“It is, especially to see you alive,” Chemaine stated, plopping back into her chair.
Flyka cut Chemaine a sharp look and then nodded to Dahlia. “Reilleve.”
She sat up a little straighter, trying not to sink into the Frost King’s warmth when his thumb began to caress the indent of her waist. What the devil was he doing?
“I’m sure you all have questions,” he said, pulling her a little farther into his lap, her back flush with his chest.
This was a little more than she had bargained for, but Lia kept it together.
“I beg your pardon, my lady, but you’re supposed to be dead,” Chemaine said bluntly.
“I am not.”
“As we can see,” Abeo cut in. “Do you mind telling us where you have been for the last several months?”
A truth and a lie together. Sell it.
“Running for my life. It’s not as easy as they make it sound in storybooks.”
“I think not,” the mint-green giant answered diplomatically. “Surely, you weren’t running from your king and husband? The Loriian people have welcomed you with open arms, so I’m told.”