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Taly followed the sound of the voice to the woman reclining beneath the banner of House Bontu.

She sat with a lazy kind of grace, one of the few noblewomen who had opted for a fine brocaded tailcoat similar in cut and style to the men’s suits.

Her hair was a black, silken sheet, her eyes the same color of cinnamon as Ainsley’s, her light brown skin smooth and flawless save for a dusting of freckles over full, round cheeks.

Taly liked her immediately, though that might’ve had more to do with the unlit cigar idly perched between two fingers.

The woman said, still laughing, “I haven’t had this much fun since… oh, what was it?” She turned to the box next to hers, where a small group of willowy, black-eyed Highborns looked similarly amused. “You know, when Silas called the duel…”

“And ended the day with chicken feathers growing out of his ass.” The woman from House Agno smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. “That was the Gildarian Peace Summit, I believe.”

From the corner of her eye, Taly saw Sarina smile smugly, as if a plan was finally coming to fruition.

Ainsley grumbled, “I’m glad you find this amusing, Brielle.” He had finally settled himself back in his throne, lounging with enough arrogance to cover the state of his wounded pride.

“If I were you, Ainsley, I would stop speaking,” Brielle shot back.

“Before Castaro lets the human take your balls too.” She looked to Ivain, gesturing with the cigar to where Taly sat with Skye’s hand on her knee.

“Good work with that one. A woman needs a sharp tongue. Especially considering how much these Fey cocks like to strut around.”

Oh, Taly definitely liked her.

Brielle tucked the cigar behind an ear lined with gold rings. “Castaro, before my nephew decided to make an ass of himself, I believe you were telling us what you intend to do about this nasty Curse business. Hopefully without having to subjugate an entire subset of your population.”

“Indeed,” Ivain said and stepped forward.

“There will be shortages going forward—food, water, medical supplies. But rest assured, they are temporary. We have already made great strides in figuring out the nature of this beast. This will not be another Wasting Plague, nor another Blood Fever. A Curse is intelligent—and that makes it wildly unpredictable. But take away that unpredictability…”

He held aloft the Eye, multifaceted and gleaming. The runes were dull, the magic inside it diffused.

“We already have the Eye,” he announced to a new round of murmurs.

A glance at Taly informed them who had found it, and she bit back a sigh as the legend of her heroism grew to even greater heights.

“We have already determined the method of transmission, and the rate of infection is dropping in the mortal population.”

“And the Fey?” Brielle pressed. “You have the Eye; you’ve cut this thing off at the knees—great. But is it still spreading? Fey were a secondary host. Taking away the transmission method won’t matter if it’s already taken root.”

Ivain sighed. “Yes, the Curse is still spreading among Fey. But if caught early, symptoms remain mild. We’re watching for any shift.”

“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 not enough 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… is still very ill. But he is stable.

Doing well from what the healers tell me.

” Aiden nodded from his seat. “The Tempris harpy has a unique toxin, 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 stronger united .

We have the resources and the mage-power to hold this city indefinitely—to keep the people inside comfortable.

But only if we work together . 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 of your 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 now I’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.