Hall, and Ryon sprang forward. “Hey, come on! Really?”
They paused. “You know she likes a few minutes between meetings.”
“And you know it’s urgent,” Ryon said.
The azure masks exchanged a glance and held the doors. Ryon thanked them and slipped through.
The Great Hall was so much larger than it needed to be, but at least it lived up to its name. Dozens of steps skirted around a dais that bowed before a throne of ancient dragon bone. High ceilings towered overhead and hung several chandeliers of fire basins, decorated with antlers. Ryon spotted the chieftess sitting at the head of the long table on the side, where servants rushed to withdraw remainders of venison, egg, berry, and croissant breakfast.
“Strength and humility,” Ryon greeted. He dipped to one knee and bowed low.
Rustling of fabric and the scratching of wood indicated that the chieftess had risen from her chair. “Rise, pale mask. Show me your face.”
Ryon felt his dagger move in its sheath. He slowly rose and noticed a distortion of light to his right. He used wide, obvious gestures to untie his mask’s ribbon behind his head so as not to threaten Brooke’s invisible guards.
“Sorry to disturb you so soon after a meeting,” Ryon said. He removed his mask and squinted at the feminine face under the headdress of twin d’hakka stingers, trace cat saber-fangs, xavi claws, and angel-bird feathers. A crystalline stone sat in the center.
It wasn’t Brooke.
Ryon stared for an extra second just to make sure. “She used a handmaiden to meet with the Malaano princess?”
The handmaiden’s regal expression dropped into exhaustion. “This was the third meeting. We think the princess is overeager for diplomatic discussion.” She glanced at the closed exit and lifted the headdress as another handmaiden moved to assist her. “Good to see you well, Ryon.”
Ryon nodded and made eye contact with the azure mask he thought must be the head of her guard. “I need to speak with Brooke.”
The air shimmered in Ryon’s peripheral vision. “It’s not a good time,” another mask said as he blurred into existence.
“It’s urgent.”
The mask looked at the handmaiden, who spoke. “I’ll ask.” She set the headdress on the throne and disappeared down the hall.
Ryon grabbed a joyberry from a servant’s platter and popped it into his mouth. Regardless of how overeager Princess Vylia was, wasn’t it risky to have a handmaiden meet with her instead? And it wasn’t like the princess was a security threat. Well, maybe one of her guards could be, but not at the third meeting, right?
“Idryon!”
Ryon hardly recognized Brooke as she entered from the secret chamber behind the scroll cases. Without her headdress or battle leathers, she looked more like a normal thirty-year-old woman, except her messy brown braids were beginning to gray earlier than they should. Her sharp eyes—the same dark shade as her hair—were puffy and rimmed with red.
“Chieftess.” Ryon bowed. “Strength and hum—”
Her firm hug squeezed the air out of him. “Thank the creator you’re alive. I feared the worst.” Brooke pulled back and examined him. “Where were you? Were you injured?” Her gaze snagged on the hole in his armor. “You’d better have a good reason.”
“Several.” Ryon was grateful when she released him from the hug, feeling the attention of her guards weighing heavy on him. He’d never seen her hug any of them. Or anyone else besides her uncle, for that matter. But then again, he’d never seen her looking like she’d just got done crying, either.
“I was injured,” he said, “but mostly healed up now.”
“Good.” Brooke pointed at an empty space in the room, then gestured to the exit. “Dimbae, thank you. You and your men are dismissed until the Darkwood arrive next week.”
Four men slipped from the flows of light, fading into existence in each corner of the room. The largest, a bald man the size of a bull, spoke in a deep timbre behind a blue mask. “That is a long time, Chieftess.”
“Then use it well.” Brooke sat at the head of the table with a huff. “I will not be accepting any more audiences until then. Stop by the treasury and take five hundred rupero, each of you, along with as much syn as you need. The princess’ long meetings tested your limits, and you all did well.”
The four men bowed in tandem. “Thank you,” Dimbae said, and they all vanished once again.
Ryon cleared his throat as Brooke waved at an attendant, who returned to the table with a tray of untouched foods. She snatched a pastry