She’s buttoned into that uniform she hates. Mare isn’t, having forgone the stiff, scarlet uniform for purple velvet. It’s the color she wore as Mareena Titanos. Her sister must have chosen her clothes for her, since Mare doesn’t have much taste or talent for fashion. If not for the circumstances, I would laugh at the thought of Gisa scolding Mare into dressing appropriately, and forcing her into the jacket.
I blush at the thought of getting her out of it.
Focus, my mind screams, and heat flares around me.
“Could you not?” Julian mutters through clenched teeth. The corner of his mouth twitches, betraying amusement.
“Sorry,” I mutter back.
One of the Scarlet Guard Command generals speaks up for her delegation, responding to Davidson. “Of course, Premier,” she says, her voice carrying. I recognize her as General Swan. The Scarlet Guard still insists on code names, even now. “And we’re grateful to your country for hosting us.”
Not that there was really another option, I think to myself. The Scarlet Guard has territory but no central government of their own, and the Nortan States are still rebuilding. And of course, holding meetings on democracy in a king’s former palace might send the wrong message. Trading one king for another, and all that.
“The delegation of the Nortan States concurs,” Ada says, raising her chin to the premier.
Uncle Julian leans in next to her, speaking to the room. “We’re happy to be here, and to see firsthand what a former Silver kingdom can look like.”
My grandmother has little taste for pleasantries. She purses her lips next to me but holds her tongue. I can’t say I disagree with her impatience. We should be getting down to business, not blowing smoke at one another.
Premier Davidson pushes on at a glacial pace. He gestures to the papers in front of him, with matching sets all over the room. “You should all have your agendas, as agreed upon in our prior communications.”
I nearly roll my eyes. Who could forget the prior communications, a largely useless back-and-forth of posturing within the alliance? There were arguments about everything from timing to seating arrangements. In fact, the only position they could all agree upon was a need to summarize progress across their delegations. And even in that, the Scarlet Guard was less than happy to oblige. They play things too close to the chest for my taste. Though I can’t blame them for their hesitation. I know what Silver betrayal looks like up close. But their obfuscating certainly makes everything all the more complicated.
“Would the delegation for the Scarlet Guard like to go first?” Davidson says, extending a hand toward their table. His lips curve into his inscrutable smile. “What can you say regarding your progress in the east?”
Farley leans forward, her face tight. She’s annoyed too. “Progress is being made,” she says, speaking for the Guard. The other generals look on, satisfied.
The rest of us wait expectantly for a real explanation, but she settles back into her chair, her mouth pursed shut. Next to her, Mare bites her lip, eyes downcast. She’s fighting the urge to laugh.
I grit my teeth. Farley . . .
Davidson merely blinks, unfazed. “Would you care to elaborate, General?”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Not in an open forum.”
“This is hardly an open forum,” my grandmother says, bracing her hands on the table. She half stands, ready to fight. Just in case, I put a hand out, grabbing the edge of her silk clothing beneath the table. She’s an old woman, yes, but I’ll pull her back if I need to. On my other side, Julian stiffens, his posture going rigid.
Nanabel pushes on, her voice even. “How can we hope to accomplish anything if you refuse to share any information whatsoever? Our delegations are handpicked, each one of us dedicated to this alliance and our nations.”
Across the floor, the Scarlet Guard remain resolute and in solidarity. General Swan and the others don’t flinch beneath the glare of a former queen and powerful oblivion. Farley even manages to respond without speaking. Her eyes flicker, just for a moment, to the other Silver nobles at our table. They turn to stone beneath her gaze, eagerly meeting her challenge. And I wonder if it isn’t just Nanabel I should worry about. Breaking up a fight between Diana Farley and a former Silver lord is not high on my list of things to accomplish today.
Farley’s meaning is crystal clear. She doubts the Silvers in our delegation, the nobles who would have executed her only