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The first stood, short but broad, and removed his helmet to better face the assembled company. The knight was black-skinned, darker than Andry and his mother, with velvety brown eyes beneath thick brows.

“I am Sir Gamon of Kin Debes,” the knight said, putting a gauntleted fist to his breastplate. The eagle screamed across his chest, worked in white steel. “These are my cousins, Sir Enais and Lady Farra.”

Still kneeling, both Kasans raised their helmets. Enais was lighter-skinned and tall, all limbs, while Farra could have been Gamon’s twin.

“We come at the behest of our queen, who extends a hand in friendship and alliance,” he said, bowing again. Then he turned on a booted heel, his warm eyes roving. “To you, and to Corayne an-Amarat. The Realm’s Hope.”

While her fingers tightened on the hilt of the Spindleblade, Corayne flushed, her cheeks going warm.

“Thank you,” she forced out, her voice embarrassingly small. It barely echoed in the cavernous chamber.

“I must also acknowledge you, Andry Trelland,” Sir Gamon added, his gaze shifting to the seat beside her.

A low gasp escaped Andry’s lips and he sat a bit straighter, blinking fiercely.

Sir Gamon quirked a half smile. “Your mother is well.”

Without thinking, Corayne reached out to take Andry by the hand, squeezing hard. He fell slack against his seat, unable to speak. He could only nod his thanks across the hall, which Sir Gamon accepted dutifully.

On the throne, Isibel curled her lip.

“Perhaps I am mistaken in my understanding of the mortal kingdoms.” Her voice took on a sharp edge, demanding attention. “But I was under the impression that the lands of Kasa and Ibal were vast, with sprawling cities. And grand armies.”

The accusation shot through the chamber like an arrow. It made the hairs on Corayne’s neck stand on end. Scowling, she dropped Andry’s hand.

“More will come,” she blurted out, before anyone could think to say something more damning. “These are simply the first.”

Across the hall, Isadere gave a curt nod, their eyes tight with frustration.

“More will come,” they said in agreement. “But there are many miles from our shores to your city. And the Long Sea is rife with dangers, thanks to our enemy.”

Beside Isadere, Sibrez’s face darkened. He was quicker to anger than his sibling, and Corayne prayed he kept in line.

“We lost a good many ships on the crossing,” the Heir added bitterly.

On the dais, Valnir’s eyes gleamed. “You will lose more than that in the days ahead. Steel yourself to it.”

Corayne wanted to scream and sink into the floor. Judging by thesudden clench of Andry’s fist, his knuckles bony beneath brown skin, he shared the sentiment.

Helmet still tucked under his arm, Gamon gave a weary, withering shake of his head. He glanced through the Elders again.

“PerhapsIam mistaken in my understanding of immortals,” he said neatly. “But is one of your warriors not worth a hundred of our own? A hundred of Erida’s soldiers? If not more?”

Silence echoed, and Isadere took it as an invitation. Gold cloak sweeping, they marched to Gamon’s side, presenting a united front. Anger spotted on the Heir’s golden cheeks.

“You three are the monarchs of your enclaves,” Isadere growled, eyeing each in turn. Dyrian drew back in his seat, the young lord going pale. “Three rulers. Where areyourarmies, my lords and lady?”

The Heir’s teeth snapped together.

“And where wereyouwhen all this began?”

Doing nothing, their heads buried, Corayne thought, feeling the same rage she saw on Isadere’s face.

Isibel only turned her head away, to look anywhere but at the gathered faces watching her.

“I will not be questioned by a mortal,” she said stiffly.

Murmurs rippled through the hall, whispered in languages the Elders did not know. But Corayne did. She gritted her teeth, hoping Isibel would not drive away their only allies against the oncoming storm.