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“And how long will that last?” Brielle crossed one leg over the other, the leather of her boots creaking slightly. “You said it yourself—Curses are intelligent. How many days, weeks, months, until it fully adapts to Fey biology? How many of us will get sick? How many will die? My nephew may be a prick, but he’s a prick with a point. Humans can’t wield magic. They’re notenough to hold a city, and war leaves little room for morality. It’s not an easy decision, I know. Especially given your personal stake.” A glance at Taly. “But answer me truthfully—is there any good to be gained by segregating the populations?”

“We don’t have enough information to begin making generalizations,” Ivain answered shrewdly.

“What about Lord Kalahad?” someone else called out. Another noble. This time, a man from Agno. “What he said about him—is it true? Is he dying? Is that why Arylaan isn’t with us tonight?”

Indeed, there were no members of the bloodline beneath the banner of House Arylaan—only those who had been given leave to sit in on Kalahad’s behalf.

“Yes,” Ivain answered soberly. “It is true what you’ve heard. Kalahad was…isstill very ill. But he is stable. Doing well from what the healers tell me.” Aiden nodded from his seat. “The Tempris harpy has auniquetoxin, and the Shaking Fever seems to respond to the same treatments. So far, we’re hopeful, but we will need more earth mages and resources going forward.”

“And what are you doing about the spies?” that same man from Agno asked. “We could pledge you mages and medicine, but whoever did this clearly had access to the city. How do we know something worse won’t happen next time?”

“You don’t. I wish I could say differently, but I can’t. The city is too crowded, too porous, too easy to vanish inside, and our enemy has already demonstrated their willingness to stoop to practices both stark and horrible. What I can say is this: we are strongerunited. We have the resources and the mage-power to hold this city indefinitely—to keep the people inside comfortable. But only if we worktogether. I’m not unaware of where my surplus goes.”

Ivain leveled a pointed look at each of the noble Houses. “And I can sympathize with the desire to ensure the survival ofyour own families. The people you love and trust—they come before and in spite of everyone else. But I ask you this: where will you be when the rest of us are dead? How long will you survive when there is no one left to grow your food and defend your walls?”

Beside Brielle, a man with a shock of white hair, dark skin, and pale violet eyes whispered in her ear. She said to Ivain, “I’m sure many of us in this room would rest easier at night if we knew more of your plans. What you’ve done and what you’re doing to keep us safe.”

Ivain splayed his hands. “By all means, I am ready for more to join me at the table. But with spies in our midst… surely you can understand why I have chosen to keep in my inner circle only those I can trust without question.”

“And what would earn your trust?” Brielle asked.

“Action. Pretty words mean nothing without it.”

Brielle considered him for a moment. No one else spoke. All eyes were on her.

Then she sighed, low and theatrical. “Oh, what the hell,” she muttered. “You’re a good man, Castaro. Everyone here knows it, even that idiot.” She jerked a thumb at a seething Ainsley, then rose, smoothing a hand over her coat. “House Bontu pledges to Fairmont their friendship. We will fight with you, giving of what we have to ensure these people safely to their next end.”

And with that, she plucked the cigar from her ear and made her way down the stairs, ignoring the whispers of her House and those who tried to call out to her as she strode onto the stage.

“In time,” she said, coming to stand in front of Ivain, “I hope we can cultivate that trust. And while, old friend, I would love to stay and hear the rest of what I’m sure is a lovely speech, you know how I feel about politics. Let the others fight it out amongst themselves. I’ve done what I came here to do, and nowI’m going to have a smoke with that ill-tempered cunt you have the misfortune of calling family.”

Surprisingly, Sarina chuckled. “Love you too, Bri.”

Brielle just waved for her to follow as she strutted for the exit. “Get your bony ass out of that chair.”

Sarina obeyed, smirking. “House Tira,” she said like a pool player calling their pocket. “They’ll be the first to fall in line.”

Then the disgraced daughter of Fairmont swaggered across the stage, the sparkling ebony train of her gown trailing dramatically behind her, smug in the certainty of her triumph.

“Let the real show begin,” Skye said, squeezing Taly’s hand as all around them the noble Houses whispered furiously, treaties and alliances under review.

Sarina had already set up the pieces to fall. Now came the fun part.

Chapter 59

Brielle had already commandeered a seat at the bar, ousting two other patrons and warding off other interested parties with a shameless boot slung across the stool beside her. Sarina elbowed her way through the people crowding inside the wide double doors, thrown open to the night despite the light rain falling. The conversation in the room was subdued, every eye trained on the magical screens floating above the bar and the live feed from the town hall.

Brielle watched the nearest screen where the representative from Tira tripped through his pledge of loyalty, holding out a cigar as Sarina approached.

“It’s not a party unless Sarina Castaro threatens to set someone on fire. And here I thought that country life had softened you,” Brielle said, making a show of swinging her leg off the stool and back onto the brass footrest that ran the length of the bar. “Nice to know that simpering little fool that barged into my sitting room the other day was just another play.”

Sarina slid onto the stool and snapped her fingers, flames rippling to life. She pinched the end of the cigar Brielle held out until the paper began to smolder. “Please,” she said with a sly smile. “You like it when I grovel.”

One corner of Brielle’s red-painted mouth lifted as if to sayyes, she did.

“And besides,” Sarina went on, checking her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Wild hair, black lips, with coal smudged across her brow and around her eyes like a mask of ashen feathers. Eliza had outdone herself. “You know I never minded a little groveling if it got me what I wanted. Which I did,mind you. Though you certainly let your nephew run wild long enough before stepping in.”

“I almost didn’t.” Still staring at the screens, Brielle took a long drag from the cigar. “Your brother’s a good man—a good leader. But I won’t lie. Some petty part of me wanted to see you fail tonight and didn’t care if the city suffered for it.”