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Creon’s gaze was a brand in the corner of my eye, all that predator focus aimed at whatever he’d found in the whirlpool of my feelings. But he remained suspiciously silent as the others nodded and muttered words of agreement – not the moment to challenge me and dig into my motives, not with four others around who did not have the faintest idea of what had truly happened at the Fireborn Palace.

Instead, all he said was, ‘You’ll have to write to them for permission to enter. I suppose the alves will be able to deliver a letter to the gate?’

That devastatingly swift mind again, already three steps into the plan while I was still coming to grips with the prospect of this journey. I glanced at Tared, who nodded, and then back at Creon, who aimed his gaze at the colourful arrangements on the map without another word. Only his hands moved in his lap, out of view from the others around the table—

Sure about this?

My heart gave a little twinge. ‘Yes.’

To everyone else, that little word would be nothing but my agreement with the necessity of letter-writing … but the way Creon’s wings loosened a fraction behind his back told me he knew exactly what question I’d responded to. His quick nod was an assurance, even with his eyes focused elsewhere. ‘We probably shouldn’t wait too long, then. I have no idea how long they’ll need to respond.’

‘I’m happy to assist writing that letter,’ Lyn hurriedly said. ‘If you need any help explaining to them who you are and what you’re capable of—’

‘No! No, none of that.’ I let out a joyless laugh, sagging back in my chair. ‘Telling them what I can do would be the worst way to go about this. Theyhatefae and magic, remember? If I waltz in and introduce myself as Emelin Thenessa of Agenor’s house, godsworn and unbound, every self-respecting human will slam that door in my face and run.’

She looked a little crestfallen.

‘The lot of you understand humans the way wolves understand sheep,’ I added, wrapping my arms around myself. ‘Nothing you can say will sound at all reassuring to them. Just let me think. I’ll come up with something and have that letter ready tomorrow morning, alright?’

‘As you wish.’ Tared’s quick smile wasn’t entirely free of worry, and it faded as he met Creon’s eyes. ‘I suppose we can leave any additional safety measures to you?’

An outstretched hand if I’d ever seen one. Creon’s nod was curt yet resolute, not a word to reassure any anxious family members that I truly was in good hands … but the tightness at his jaw suggested that a hundred god-built walls wouldn’t be enough to keep him out if I was truly in danger.

Even Agenor didn’t object.

‘Excellent,’ Lyn said with a brave attempt at cheeriness. ‘Let’s try to get a few hours of sleep before dawn, then.’

I wrote my letter at Creon’s desk in the end, in the smoky, blue-grey glow of his faelights, surrounded by piles of astronomy books and the occasional hurried charcoal sketch of the night sky. Phyron’sTreatiseslay in my lap, Agenor’s old copy with my mother’s notes in the margins. Reading her words somehow made it a hundred times easier to remember what it was like to be human – short-lived and vulnerable, but so very angry all the same.

Once I closed my eyes and thought of Cathra, the letter frankly wrote itself.

It was brief. It was simple. It was so full of truth, too, that I only allowed Creon to read it before I folded it shut, sealed it, and shoved it beneath Tared’s bedroom door – a little piece of my soul I wasn’t sure I could share with anyone but those it was meant for.

To the city consuls –

My mother first told me about the White City when I was five winters old and starving. I dreamed of travelling north for fifteen years, until I learned of my fae ancestry and understood I would never be allowed to set foot within your walls.

Faekind took many things from me, but my future is the one I mourn most.

As I’m writing this letter, I’m preparing to fight a war on behalf of every human crushed beneath the heel of the empire – a war I’m not fully sure I’ll win. Your support and assistance could tip the scales. It would mean the world to me to work with you, and while I know it will never be possible for me to live in the city, I would be honoured and grateful to be allowed to visit you for a few days and plead my case.

I’m well aware my fae blood would make this a breach of your laws. I can only hope my equally human blood may persuade you to make one temporary exception; I’ll gladly comply with every safety requirement you consider necessary.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Yours,

Emelin of Cathra

Chapter 15

I woke early thenext morning and didn’t manage to go back to sleep, no matter how temptingly soft wings and strong arms whispered at me to close my eyes and tuck myself back into Creon’s embrace. The restless guilt tingling in my limbs wouldn’t allow me to – the simple, undeniable fact that I could already have solved most of our troubles and simply … hadn't.

For the sake of scruples.

For the sake of my own already blemished conscience.

Such a wafer-thin excuse, flimsy to the point of silliness. Really, it was madness, betting the future of the world on my rather volatile sense of morality. If the consuls of the White City didn’t write back …