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Right.

Tared.

I should have known I couldn’t storm off like I had and expect him to sit on his thumbs for two hours, waiting for me to reemerge in gods knew what state. Consulting Lyn had likely been the compromise between his concern and his promise not to come between Creon and me – and with her history with the elders, could I really blame her for wanting to make sure nothing terrible had befallen me inside the Fireborn Palace?

‘I’m fine,’ I said, my voice hollow. ‘It’s only that they were about as unpleasant as you warned me they would be. And I’m … tired, I suppose.’

Already?she should be saying.We have been fighting this war for centuries, you whiny little child, and do you hear any of us complaining about tiredness?

But this was Lyn; of course she didn’t say any such thing. ‘We were planning to discuss our strategy for the meeting tonight, but I don’t think you absolutelyneedto be there? We can just tell you what we came up with later today, if you prefer.’

The meeting.

The Alliance’s council of war.

Where we would have to present at least a suggestion of a strategy, something to give the gathered kings and queens the impression we could win the war – which meant we would need to tell them what role I would play in that war, too. As tempting as it was to stay here and let Creon have his way with me, did I really want to leave it to Agenor to tell me in a couple of hours how I was supposed to make my way to the Mother and end her?

I was making my own choices, damn it. A few hours of oblivion weren’t worth turning myself into a pawn without agency.

Creon was already moving, rolling himself away from me, holding out a hand to help me up. I grabbed it with a long-suffering groan and allowed him to haul my aching, yearning body from the blankets despite every fibre screaming at me to stay exactly where I was.

‘Be with you in a few minutes!’ I yelled at the door.

Lyn’s reply sounded grateful and worried at the same time. Her small footsteps tottered off into the distance, back to the living room, where Tared would no doubt be waiting.

I sagged against Creon’s chest, not sure if I wanted to curse or apologise.

‘It’s alright, Em,’ he muttered, lips against the crown of my head. ‘There’ll be quieter moments later.’

Later. Always later. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to calm down – but gods help me, how long could the future keep inserting itself into the present before the progress of time started blurring into itself?

‘Come,’ Creon added, a little firmer now, as if he was reading my thoughts and had decided he’d had enough of the wallowing. A little nudge against my shoulder was enough to put me back on my feet. ‘Time to get to work, cactus. Think of it this way – we can’t get our cats if we die on the battlefield.’

Like a soap bubble, the spell of dread popped within me. I pulled the remaining golden pins from my hair, dragged myshoulders straight, and said with grave and solemn dignity, ‘An excellent point, Your Highness. To war, then?’

‘To war.’ He swept a dramatic gesture at the door. ‘For Irythion Thenes.’

‘And Likothea the Younger,’ I added, following him outside, bursting out laughing when he did.

For an unimaginable moment, even the prospect of battle almost seemed enjoyable.

Chapter 13

They started arriving justafter dinner, the rulers of our allies above the earth – grim faces and stiff shoulders as they were faded into the grand hall in the heart of the Underground, where the chalk map on the floor was now finished and surrounded by a large circle of chairs. Lanterns and alf lights twinkled in the shadowy darkness above our heads. Along the smooth walls, the little balconies were packed with Underground inhabitants following the spectacle from a distance; on the floor below, only a few handfuls of us had gathered to welcome the newcomers.

The alves came first, about a dozen of them, all tall and blond and armed to the teeth. Some of them greeted Tared and Valdora with what seemed like genuine warmth, while others appearedto struggle to get even the iciest of greetings over their lips – alf politics I didn’t want to spend too much thought on. They were here, at least. As long as they agreed to fight the Mother with us, they could throw as many tantrums as they liked in private.

The others started trickling in soon after, brought in by Underground alves fading back and forth across the archipelago. Helenka was one of the first nymph queens to arrive, dressed in royal, glittering green. She and her colleagues looked much like dew-covered flowers between the earthy colours of the alves and the stark black in which most of the vampires arrived, all lace and leather and the occasional velvet cloak; the groups mingled reluctantly, most of the attendees clearly preferring the company of their own people, even at this gathering intended to solidify our mutual commitment.

The phoenixes showed up last. Just two of them – Khailan and Drusa.

Lyn was suddenly extraordinarily busy chatting with two stern-looking vampire kings on the other side of the hall.

I couldn’t help holding my breath as the gazes of the two elders swept around the company and found me, every muscle in my body prepared for roars of anger and vehement accusations. But Khailan merely gave me a stiff nod, and Drusa’s watery smile was clearly an attempt at politeness – they still hadn’t realised what had happened, then.

And how could they, if they had no idea such a thing as smooth magic even existed?

I still couldn’t get my heartbeat to settle.