Chapter 1 #2
Orion seemed as shocked as I was, but he caught my eye with a reassuring nod before he followed my mate into the hall. I could only assume it meant that he would try to talk to his skiá.
Helena gave a heavy sigh, rubbing at her temples for a moment before she straightened and looked at me.
“Amira, he is… terrified. He is not thinking clearly,” she attempted to defend her king, but I did not bother to reply to her. Helena challenged him when she felt it was necessary to do so, but I was under no delusions about whose side she was ultimately obligated to take.
Resisting the urge to bang obnoxiously on the barrier Riordan had erected with all my fury, I turned away from Helena and Ares. Some time apart was probably in order anyway so we could both cool down.
I returned to the walk-in closet, which was nearly as big as the bedchamber. Sofia was inside, just as I left her, in an armchair next to the full-length mirror. She was making an alteration to the gold cloak that clipped to the shoulders of the dress I was wearing.
Ever since Riordan ordered me to take his place on the King’s Council, Sofia had made a shift in my style.
All of the colours, silhouettes, and materials that she chose were more dramatic and mature.
The golden and forest-green dress she’d selected that morning was a perfect example.
The stiff collar was tall and regal, the sleeves layered over the shoulders to appear like pauldrons, and the corset bodice was reinforced to mimic armour.
Sofia insisted clothes could also be used like weapons, and I understood the intent was to make me seem more authoritative and powerful during uncertain times. But as I stepped in front of the mirror, I could not help but miss my more feminine silks and pastel colours.
Sofia had closed the door to the bedroom to give us some measure of privacy when Orion gave me the letter from Nell. But I could tell from her raised brows that she had heard Riordan raise his voice to me.
“Oh, Amira,” she cooed in sympathy when tears began to suddenly well in my eyes.
“I will be fine,” I insisted as I dabbed delicately at my face to avoid smudging my eyeliner. “I have a council meeting this afternoon to focus on.”
Sofia nodded as she walked behind me, her concerned gaze flicking to me in our reflection as she clipped the gold cape to my shoulders.
“You will make him grovel tonight.”
I made a scoffing noise, thinking she must be teasing, but her brows merely rose expectantly.
“You really want me to make your king grovel?”
“I want you to make your mate grovel,” she insisted.
“Riordan might make a conscious effort to be kind and compassionate, but he is still the man he was born to be. And if you are not strong enough to stand against him as an equal, then he will take command of you as effortlessly as he commands everything else. Not with a malicious intent, but simply because ruling over lesser creatures is what he was made for. So if you wish to be more than his loyal subject, then you cannot be a lesser creature.”
The room was silent while I absorbed her words with my eyes on the letter from Nell that was still in my hand.
My mind wandered to the night when I’d told Orion that only he could decide his worth.
And I wondered whether a mortal witch could decide she was not only worthy of the Griffin King, but that she could be his equal too.
“What about Balor? Has anyone made any progress yet on encouraging him to speak?” asked Castor Doukas.
The Oligarch of árgos had been slowly growing into more and more of an anomaly to me since I first met him.
He had a long history with my mate who had refused Castor’s daughter for a mate and then rejected his son for his skiá in favour of Orion.
Ares had let it slip one night that Riordan always suspected Castor was the one behind the attempt on Orion’s life, so I was inclined to hate him on principle.
But the Oligarch had made it easy since he was not shy about expressing his distaste for me either.
Since coming to the Vale, however, I seemed to have gradually won his respect. I was still unsure why exactly, but I had the feeling it had something to do with my relief programs in the Rookery. He seemed to take an interest in them and was always asking about my progress.
“Riordan finished repairs on the Vale this morning and intends to interrogate Balor today,” I answered. It was all I could report since Riordan had stormed out of the room before I could ask Orion if the King of the Spring Court had deigned to speak to him yet.
“And we still do not know whether Rian was even able to survive… whatever it was that the Sylvan did to him?” verified Isaura Kontos, the Oligarch of Thíva.
They’d shoved an orb of burning Light magic into his fucking chest. I could still hear the way he had screamed as beams of the Light burst through his skin in a thousand bloody rays.
Helena and Ares were both convinced that the Autumn Prince was dead, claiming that nothing could have survived such a prolonged exposure to Light magic.
Especially not a Shadow-wielder like Rian.
But Riordan wanted proof.
“No confirmation yet, but like I said yesterday, we sent a missive to our new allies in Mionlach in Autumn Court. We will have verification soon,” I reiterated patiently.
Perhaps my least favourite thing about these meetings was how damned repetitive they were. It felt like we’d had some variation of the exact same conversations over and over during the last two days.
“Surely he is dead,” reasoned Isaura, as eager as she was the day before to be able to dismiss the threat of the Autumn Prince.
“One would think, but I am not willing to believe it is true until we have confirmation,” insisted Nyssa Petros, the shrewd Commander of Siracusa.
Nyssa and Dio Matthias were the only people on the council who had been appointed by Riordan when he was the General of Kórinthos.
And they were perhaps the only members that I honestly liked.
Dio was kind and trusted so implicitly by Riordan that he’d been made a personal advisor to the king.
I didn’t find Nyssa as affable as Dio, but she was astute and respectful.
She readily backed my suggestions when she liked them and challenged them constructively when she did not.
Her acceptance of me was appreciated since most of the Imítheos made it clear they did not feel I belonged in that chamber with them.
“If he is alive, we need a weapon to use against him. That dagger Riordan was given by the Sylvan is fine for him alone. But we need a way to defeat that monster!” insisted Stamos Galanis, the Oligarch of Erétria who was now the oldest member of the King’s Council.
He had said the very same thing the day before, and I was not sure if it was because he was that terrified of Rian or if he had already forgotten the conversation.
“I remember. I have not had the chance to discuss that possibility with Riordan. But I am sure he will devote some time to searching for whatever weapon we can find to be used against Rian,” I assured the councillor.
I did not miss it when Dio tilted his head down toward the table to hide a smirk. As the Commander of Erétria, Dio dealt directly with Stamos quite often.
“What of the Spring fey traitors? Any developments?” Castor asked impatiently. He was clearly as ready to be done with this repetitive meeting as I was.
“Orion brought in about half a dozen more last night, but none of them are talking,” I admitted.
“And Orion still has not used those interrogation skills of his that we all hear so much about?” Isaura asked.
“No. I already told you that many of them are women and children who have lost everything—”
“They sought to overthrow their true king in support of a rebel leader who abandoned them here,” she interrupted me dismissively.
My hands clenched in my lap, harsh words on the tip of my tongue in response to her callousness.
“In other news,” said Dio, saving me from making a spectacle of myself by shouting at Isaura.
I turned away from the smirking woman to watch Dio produce a note with an opened seal that I recognized from his City-State of Erétria.
“This came from one of our outposts. A patrol did not return from a routine flight over the River Flats last night. Scouts were dispatched early this morning to search for them, and they saw smoke on the most easterly reach of the Zoí River.”
“Another raid by the Fuath,” I guessed, heart sinking.
“Yes, and this one was extensive. The port at Anatolí is a depot for much of the goods that are sent from árgos. A good deal of fruit, wine, and fish was taken along with the usual grain and legume stores they’ve been pilfering all along the Erétrian Mountains,” answered Dio.
“Not to mention all the livestock,” grumbled Stamos.
I sighed and held out my hand across the table for the missive, which Dio handed over readily.
I was not yet proficient at reading or writing Aeolian, but Riordan liked to lay his own eyes on this sort of information, so I would take it to him later.
Sometimes he could pick up on things, which I would have never thought to consider, just by reading the messages himself.
“Was the patrol located?” Castor wanted to know.
“They… were. Parts of them, at least,” Dio corrected with a wince of apology when Isaura groaned in disgust at the graphic insinuation. “The port was completely burned along with some of the surrounding fields.”
“They burned down the port?” I verified in surprise.
“Yes, along with all the ships docked in the harbour,” Dio advised me significantly.