Chapter 28 #2
The council members looked pleased, too. Though, I supposed they were only playing nice and holding off their usual wariness of me because they knew I was their best chance at containing the rebels, thereby keeping their own necks safe.
“The final thing I'd like to discuss are the funerals.” Dreynthor looked at everyone at the table, his expression growing somber.
“I've decided on a private burial, so we'll have a Veil's Parting here tomorrow night at the palace.
Only council members and members of the victims' families will be in attendance.”
I thought of the victims, the handmaidens in particular.
The memory of their deaths pulled at my dark soul like chains.
Apart from Sirril, they were the last of the people from my childhood who'd taken care of me.
A Veil's Parting, where their bodies would be given two gold coins to pay Titania's Tithe then burned, didn't seem enough for them.
They were the best of us and deserved better. They deserved life.
Silence settled over the room like a funeral shroud. The sort of silence where people grieved, reflected, and renewed gratitude for their own beating hearts.
“If there's nothing else, we can close the meeting for today.” Dreynthor spoke in a respectfully low tone, then gave everyone a moment to offer any further discussion.
When no one did, he closed off the meeting with the ring of his bell.
But then he looked at me with those calculating eyes. “Stay back, Wolfe. I'd like a word.”
“Sure.” Fuck. I hoped to the Gods he hadn't found out anything about my little excursion. It was more than likely that he hadn't, or I'd know about it already. And we wouldn't be sitting here acting civilized.
I nodded to Alaric and Bastian, who phased with the other council members, disappearing into the air with their mission plans all set. At least everyone was exactly where they were supposed to be.
Within seconds, only Dreynthor and I remained in the hall, his sharp eyes staring at me with the intensity of a predator sizing up prey.
As I looked back at him, face to face, eye to eye, I wondered yet again about his connection to my father's murder.
I wished I knew what he did. Better yet, I wished I had evidence to take him down. And now that we had the rebels to deal with, it stole precious time I needed to focus on the bigger picture at stake.
“You were away for quite some time, nephew.” Dreynthor scanned my face, as if searching for some clue or shit to use against me. “Haven't seen you since before Nyxara Valtheris.”
Fire crackled softly in the hearth, too tame for the bitterness that had suddenly entered the room.
“I was busy. It was on the eve of Nyxara Valtheris that we found the handmaidens' bodies.” That was the night my tracker wraith returned to me with news of the thief and my ring.
My quest to the mortal realm began the very next day.
“Which was exactly why I expected to see you. The handmaidens were like family to us, and they were murdered so close to the palace. That warranted a meeting between us. I should not have heard about their deaths from your guard.”
He was right. He also appeared to be genuinely aggrieved over the handmaidens' deaths, but I didn't care. I knew him. Dreynthor wore many faces like masks in a play.
This one was the one he wanted me to see today. The next breath could see him doling out a death sentence or a public whipping to some poor soul just because he didn't like the way they looked at him.
Everything about him churned my insides. Especially the way he hid behind the blanket of justice and integrity for the people while doing his dirty dealings in the shadows.
I steadied my mind and thought up a reasonable answer. I'd led him to believe I was pursuing the rebels, but now I needed to cement the lie.
“I had to leave as soon as possible to follow my lead.” I kept my expression as neutral as my uncle's cold gaze. “The fact that they killed on our grounds highlighted the gravity of the situation. I didn't want the chance to either end this or find out more information to slip away from me.”
“And what news do you bring to me of your excursion?” His pale eyes almost seemed opaque in the waning sun, filled with the curiosity and suspicion I'd worried about. Which was why I'd carried an ace up my sleeve.
“They have someone feeding them information about our patrol routes.”
His brows shot up, almost disappearing into his hairline, and he balled a hand into a tight fist. “An informant? One of our own?”
“Yes. The timing of their attack was too precise to be coincidence. And the vast spread of insurgence suggests more than one leader. I think a group of them have banded together for a common cause.”
“You have proof of this?” He held my gaze, tightening his fist until his knuckles went white.
“No solid proof yet, but the evidence strongly supports my theory.” I didn't need proof. And though Dreynthor might have hated me in other ways, he knew I was always right about things like these.
When you'd lived for as long as I had, fought and won countless battles, you picked up certain strategies and tactics that became second nature.
The idea of an informant—a traitor—and the rebels having several leaders struck me while I was at sea.
It made sense because nothing else did. Sometimes, when you couldn't put the puzzle pieces together, it was simply down to the fact that you would never be able to.
Such was the case here. It was the same with Father's murder and the disappearance of the ring.
The fact that it had taken me five years to find a lead confirmed everything.
“We have to be extra careful,” Dreynthor said gravely, his cold eyes narrowing.
“More than ever. The rebels are growing and getting bolder, so we have to be ready for whatever they throw at us next.”
“If there is more than one leader, how will we contain that?”
“I think they're still answering to one voice. Whoever started the rebellion in the first place. That's who we need to find. Cut off the head, and the body dies.”
He nodded. “I'm pleased to see how quickly you've worked on this matter.”
“Of course.”
He sighed, steepling his fingers on the table, revealing the deep scar along his forearm he'd received in the last war. “With that said, I believe the idea of a union with Thalyrius matters now more than ever.”
Marriage.
Fucking bastard. Every discussion we'd had over the last few months had ended with him trying to slip in constant prompts for marriage.
“Last time we spoke, you didn't give me a real answer.” His smile was too sharp, too easy—the smile of a male who thought he held all the cards.
“I did.”
“You told me to go fuck myself.” His brows snapped together. “That was not an answer.”
But I still meant every word. “Marriage is not the only viable solution to this mess. If I find the rebellion's leader, that should fix everything.” So would finding the ring, which I hoped to do first. “What kind of kingdom are we if we can't contain a bunch of rebels?”
“Wolfe, even you can agree that these Fae are not simply a bunch of rebels.
The last piece of leverage we have is control over the sea trade routes.
Doing everything you've suggested to protect the people and a marriage bond with Thalyrius ensures that protection.
We'd have control over the majority of the seas in the world. The rebels would have no other choice than to bend the knee or die if Thalyrius stops trade with them. Please tell me you understand that.”
“Of course, I can. But that's just a temporary solution. You don't know how long it may work for, and the problem of entitlement to the throne would still remain. Others would still challenge the Nightblade family’s right to rule.”
“It wouldn't be as problematic as you think. There are also those loyal to both Galaythia and Thalyrius who would welcome such a union. It makes perfect sense in every way.”
“I won't be forced to do anything I don't want to do,” I said through gritted teeth, my voice deadly quiet.
The fire popped just then and my shadows flickered with the flames, writhing across the vaulted ceiling high above us like living things.
Some people wore their hearts on their sleeves. I chose wrath, and I'd never been one to control it, even before the curse transformed me into something darker.
Dreynthor's gaze flicked to the gathering mass of darkness around me, but instead of showing fear like most would, he smiled. The bastard smiled because he knew that no matter what powers I had at my disposal, he was still the one holding my leash.
“We all need to do things we don't want to do at times. Even by force,” he said, his voice smooth and certain.
“What in the hells is that supposed to mean?” I kept my tone sharp and clipped, though rage was building in my chest like a storm.
“It means I hold the power here. You need to remember that. In a situation like this where our people are dying, you fight with everything you've got, with no exception.”
“You make it sound like a union with Thalyrius is only about our people. As if you don't stand to gain substantially from Thalyrius' wealth and legacy if I decide to marry one of their princesses.”
The shadow of worry snuck into his eyes, but it was only there for a moment. Long enough for me to take it as a small victory and see that I could still rattle him when I wanted to.
“Personal benefits are small things when you look at the bigger picture.”
“Do not speak to me as though I'm a fool.” I could see straight through him like glass.
“If I married a princess of Thalyrius it would break the inheritance cycle we've always lived by. Marrying her would transfer bloodline loyalty to Thalyrius. Our throne would weaken with every child born of their name and Galaythia would never have a king.”
“I’m fully aware of that.”