Chapter 32 Eveera #2
"I have a hard time believing your kingdom, or rather — you or your king consort, are capable of doing anything of benefit for my kingdom.
He left irreparable damage on my soil. Citizens dead, buildings leveled, and your 'offer' is to allow more of your formidable soldiers onto my land?
" He's standing halfway up out of his chair, his body leaning forward against the table as he shouts.
"You're right not to trust him," I say calmly, and I can feel Rorin’s shock. "I don't condone what he did — I may be cruel, but my cruelty doesn't extend to those undeserving, let that be clear. So, King Eloden, let me make it up to you."
"I will not make a deal with a man as reckless as that — king or not."
I brace my hands on the lip of the table, rising and leaning over to mirror his position.
"You're not making a deal with him. You are making it with me.
Your borders could barely stand against the skirmishes with Evendell without Hadar's influence. His power is growing, his numbers are growing, and before you can muster up a defense — Sorrel will be gone just as the rest. Baelor will stop at nothing to claim the rest of Allora for himself, and he is not worthy to rule your lands. A Wieldless man, controlling the kingdom of storms?” I spit, my nose crinkling in disgust. “Obsidian can protect you against that. "
His expression remains stern, but I can see his shoulders begin to relax, the anger waning. "What if you can't?"
"I do not accept that as a potential option, your Majesty. I would expect that a Chaotik such as yourself wouldn't either."
Eloden's lips purse, and without needing much more persuading, he snatches the quill from Maxwell's hand, scribbling his signature onto the parchment. "I will make this deal with you, but your king consort is not welcome on Sorrel's ground."
Rorin's lips part, moving to argue when I place my hand against his chest. "Understood." His head snaps down to look at me, anger building behind those molten eyes.
He refrains from adding anything, Eloden retreating from the room, and swapping places with Imir. Rorin’s large palm comes to clasp over mine, squeezing it before huffing and moving to his spot behind me again.
"That leaves you, General."
Imir's face lights with amusement, and he leans over to Caz, whispering something in his ear first. "You've not yet given me an answer on my proposition, so I don't see how I could give you an answer on yours."
Unease settles in my chest as my brows pinch together, "refresh my memory, General, on what your proposition was again?"
"We are a peaceful republic, your Highness. Where this war is concerned… we have no standing in getting involved. Not physically, anyway, and we'd be of no use to conquer; our trading posts serve all, not just Suram."
I grind my teeth together, and Rorin snorts, "Baelor doesn't care if you have an interest in getting involved. He wants complete rule — your republic has no more immunity than any of our kingdoms, General."
"I'm inclined to disagree. But considering I am a generous man, I do empathize with your situation." The unease in my chest grows into a gnawing pit inside of my stomach as he carries on, "my proposition was this — your winged beast for my alloy."
I knew that was going to be what he said, but I wanted to hear it again.
My Wield flares at the suggestion, and I fight the urge to cut him where he stands for asking it more than once. I dig my fingernails into my palms, steadying my voice as I counter.
"She is not an object to trade, I'm afraid. But you're more than welcome to try and negotiate with her." The words come out as a nefarious smile spreads across my lips, black tingeing at the corners of my vision.
He stalls for a moment, as if he’s actually considering negotiating with Vada and sucks in a sharp breath, "worth a try, I suppose. Fine — I’ll agree to the use of my alloy…
" he drawls out, the quill moving quickly against the paper.
"I'll come up with something you can give me in return later.
" The muscle in my jaw feathers, but I don't pry further, figuring that since he's already aimed for something as egregious as Vada, there isn't much else he could ask of me.
Felix collects the agreement from the general’s grip and sets it on top of the others for Rorin and me to sign and seal. He walks Imir and Caz out of the room, while Rorin and I scan over each document quickly, making sure that nothing was altered while in the hands of our guests.
We exchange a look and a nod before scratching our names and titles down.
Allies are important, I remind myself as I press the wax seal of Obsidian's crest down on all three documents.
He slides the dagger out from the sheath across his chest and sets it in my hands.
I slice it against the soft skin of our palms, and raise the blood-coated blade above the agreements, watching the droplets stain the parchment.
“For Allora, sit hic sanguis fata nostra in gloria signet. Ad ludum regum et reginarum." I murmur, and Rorin presses a kiss to the side of my hair.
“For Allora.”