31. Syrus #2
“Except this could very well earn us enemies. You heard the demon: he’s managed to upset all of the other lords, and by the sounds of it, the ephilium too,” a woman replies. Her point is echoed by a round of agreement, though it’s not quite as loud as Jaxon’s support was earlier.
“That is what the Concords and collateral are for,” Thadeus says firmly.
“None of the supernaturals—demon or ephilium—can hurt this city without risking the wellbeing of their own realms. The opposition never misses an opportunity to remind me that the battles that rage out on the plains—that keep our citizens locked inside these walls but for a precious few armistice days—have grown in frequency over the last few years.”
More jeers from the gallery follow this statement.
“Well, I want to make it clear that this concerns me too. Deeply,” Strickland’s voice takes on a new sincerity, and the opposing voices grow quiet. “Every time I hear the bells ringing at the gates, I think that there must be something I can do to stop it.”
Even without being in the room, I can feel the gravity of those words and picture the chamber held in Strickland’s hand. This is the side of the man that got him elected leader, I suspect.
“The Lord of Malice’s offer presents an important opportunity. If we help bring harmony back to Infernum, it could give us the leverage to curb the ferocity of these battles. For that reason, I have decided to grant him the sanctuary he seeks.”
I give Leah a nod as the Assembly gives a mixed reaction to this announcement. “We’ve convinced him,” I say quietly.
“And the residency limit? Assemblyman Strickland, no winger is supposed to remain in Pax for more than three days without returning to their realm.”
“I haven’t forgotten, Mr. Jaxon.”
Damn it. The rule isn’t usually enforced—it’s too difficult to police. But for a demon lord on the run, it clearly can’t be ignored.
When they call us back in shortly after, I’m braced to make a new argument. Three days is definitely not enough time for the lords to cool off—but Strickland beats me to the punch.
“Lord Syrus,” he says, his hazel eyes looking triumphant. “As chief assemblyman, I have the power to grant anyone a grace period of residency in Pax for thirty days.”
There are protests from the gallery about Strickland overriding the Assembly, but they eventually hush.
“However, after that time has elapsed, it will fall to the Assembly to vote on whether to extend your sanctuary any longer. With the greatest respect, I advise you to settle your affairs with your fellow lords before then, or be prepared to convince my vocal opponents here to vote in your favor.”
I lift my head, letting my horns catch the sunlight streaming through the window depicting the Mantle.
“Thank you, Mr. Strickland. I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive.”
Leah
I never worried much about politics back when I lived in Strata.
My father liked to talk about it sometimes, bragging about endless debates he’d have with his friends at his gentleman’s club.
To me all politicians were good for was lining their and their friends’ pockets while many of the people I valued, people like Hodges and Martha, had to fight to get by.
Some people said Strickland was different.
He didn’t come from a wealthy or titled family—he worked his way up in society before being elected chief assemblyman a few years ago.
My father and his cronies didn’t think he was right for the job, but I’m more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He did, after all, give Syrus what he asked for.
There were other people I recognized in the chamber—at least by name.
Jaxon is a big opponent of Strickland’s faction, his supporters always distributing dull pamphlets about his poor economic policies.
Lady Roseingrave, an independent, is a legend among Pax’s socialites—wealthy by inheritance and never once married, which provided much scandalized gossip for my stepmother to sink her teeth into.
The fact that Ada disapproves of her would be enough on its own to make me like Lady Roseingrave, even if she hadn’t spoken up for Syrus.
So I can’t help but feel a little frisson of excitement when she stops us in the hall, descending on us with a waft of subtle perfume and a pat of her coiffed, raven-black hair.
“Lord Syrus.” She reaches out and places a delicate hand on his arm. Her nails are glossy like the inside of a shell, and her dark eyes are fixed on Syrus, never once glancing at me. Abruptly, my excitement dwindles, and something angrier smolders in my belly.
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’re joining us for a sojourn in Pax—however brief.” Her thumb moves a little across his bicep as she makes the word sojourn sound smooth and suggestive. I decide that in fact I want to break her fingers.
“You must allow me to host you sometime. I throw the best parties.” She smiles wide, her lovely white teeth glittering, and I move my hands behind my back so that no one sees them balled into fists.
“That’s very kind of you, Lady Roseingrave,” Syrus says neutrally, and I feel a little spike of triumph in my chest when he doesn’t return the smile. “My schedule will, of course, depend on my progress with Infernum. That must be my priority.”
“Of course,” she agrees, giving his arm a squeeze before releasing him.
“Thadeus,” she says to Strickland, and I notice he does offer her a smile, warm and pleased.
“Orealia,” he responds. “Always a pleasure.”
Then she glides away, perfect and elegant. When I notice Syrus looks to me instead of watching her go, certain murderous urges start to fade from my mind.