the one in charge.”
Saílle paused. “I must speak to my advisor for a moment. I request a recess.”
Ginty stood, holding up the scepter. He turned to Névé. “Do you have any objections?”
Névé shook her head.
“Herne, do you mind if the Dark Queen takes a recess?”
Herne shook his head. “That’s fine.”
“Then I call a fifteen-minute recess. We will convene again when the chime sounds. Bear in mind, that in this room or out of it, until we dismiss the meeting, we are all still bound under the Rules of Parley.” Ginty raised the scepter and a low chime emitted from it. He lowered it, then sat down, stretching out with his hands in his pockets.
Saílle and her advisors wasted no time in heading toward the door. They slipped out quietly.
“I wonder what that’s all about,” I said, watching their departure.
“I have no clue,” Herne said. “But I’m sure we’ll find out, in one way or another.”
For lack of anything better to do, I turned to stare at Névé. She was sitting impassively, looking like a china statue. She was lovely, her radiance so stunning it made her difficult to look at. Where Saílle was magnetic and mesmerizing, Névé was radiant. Opposites again, and yet they achieved the same effects.
I glanced over at Viktor, who had pulled out his phone to read. I thought about trying to engage the Light Queen in some chitchat, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well. I finally turned to Herne, who was speaking in low tones with Ginty.
“How much longer?”
Herne grinned at me. “Getting bored?”
“Is it soup yet? Kind of… I’d really like to get out of here so I can get ready for Morgana tonight. I’m nervous.” I smiled, but I knew that my nerves were showing.
“Well, Saílle has fifteen minutes and it’s only been five since she stepped out. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but I have a feeling we’re going to find out.” He paused, then nodded to the door as the knob turned. “Apparently, she didn’t need fifteen minutes.”
I followed his gaze. Saílle entered the room again, her face once more impassive and impossible to read. She caught me looking at her and just smiled, coolly, before returning to her seat. Ginty called the parley back into session and we began again.
“Herne, you had the floor.” The dwarf motioned for Herne to stand.
Herne had barely made it to his feet before Saílle spoke.
“You were requesting the assistance of the Fae militia. I’m willing to give you access to my personal militia.” She smiled, saccharine-sweet, at Névé. “I’m sure the Queen of Light will agree, as well.”
Of course, Névé felt obligated to follow suit in order to keep face. Saílle had played her hand well, and the Queen of Light fell right into it.
“Navane offers you our faction of the militia as well. When we were facing the Iron Plague and the Tuathan Brotherhood, our courts worked under a truce. I suppose,” Névé said, gritting her teeth, “that we should consider another truce, given Typhon’s approach.”
It was Saílle’s turn to glare. I had the feeling the Queen of the Dark Fae hadn’t considered that idea to come into play.
Saílle sighed. “Master McClintlock, would you host a parley for our courts to agree upon conditions for such a truce? And Herne, given you have so much at stake, I assume you’ll grace us with your experience as mediator?” She had a nasty grin on her face and I realized that she had just stuck it to Herne. But it didn’t matter. If we could get the Fae to form a truce for the time being, it would make our job a lot easier.
Herne seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “Of course. Shall we meet tomorrow? No time like the present.”
The two queens agreed to another meeting. Ginty looked disgruntled, but decreed that there would be a second Lughnasadh parley the next morning, early.
Saílle spoke again. “The Court of Dark Fae also wishes to extend its congratulations to Lord Herne and…Lady Ember on your coming nuptials. In fact, I find it quite a coincidence.” Saílle cast her gaze to meet mine.
I froze, staring at her. She had called me lady? And how did she know about our engagement? What the hell was she up to? I never underestimated the Fae Queens in how far they would go to one-up not only each other, but everyone else.
“What’s a coincidence?” I asked.
“Your uncle Sharne is to be married to one of the