Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Fifty Three: The Delegation

"My lord, I don't think it's wise for me to be here."

Nova spoke the words as if outside of herself; it seemed a miracle she could make herself understood, considering the racing white noise occupying her thoughts.

Harkenn glanced at her from his tense post at the hearth. His face contorted as if to snap at her, but whatever was on her face must have been bad enough to give even Faellian pause. He turned back to the flames, scowling.

"I'm not having them playing their sinister little mind tricks on me without my knowledge," he said tartly, by which he meant that her hopes of escape were dashed. If she hadn't felt numb from head to toe with shock and fear, she thought she might have given into weeping, like she hadn't done for so many years. Her heart lifted a little and then sank again at his next words, "I've sent for Nerahardt. If I don't trust his judgement I'll expect yours. Aside from that, pretend to be a brick in the wall for all I care."

They won't see me as a brick in the wall. But to the lord she might as well have been, for all the good saying that aloud would do her.

She sat back in her chair, fingers tangled in the chain bolted to the collar around her neck. Her stumps dug into the chair's back, reminding her harshly of how stunted and scarred they were. She wondered if she would recognise anyone in the contingent, and couldn't decide whether it would be worse if she did or didn't. They would surely all know who she was. Harkenn had not made it a secret when he took the Caelumese ruler's niece as a slave.

When the news had arrived that a Caelumese contingent had arrived from the Barrens, she had stared at the soldier who announced it until he fidgeted, seeming more discomfited by her disbelieving stare than by the lord's raging. After ten years, the idea that others of her kind were so close seemed incomprehensible. Jeorge had been enough of a shock, but there was only one of him, and he was in and out frequently enough that the idea no longer concerned her overly much. Two dozen, at the soldier's count, though; that was potentially catastrophic. No Caelumese contingent had set foot in Shadow's Reach since the Annexe War. Faced so baldly with her past, the war didn't feel like it was that long ago after all.

Harkenn was clearly feeling the tension, too. He paced up and down once. He muttered, "Maybe I shouldn't have sent the Whisperer away."

Nova concurred. Sending Nika away had been a very poor decision on the lord's part, in her mind. Not quite as bad as forcing her to come face to face with the arrivals, but altogether unwise; while Nika wasn't Yddris, he had still been taught by him. He was unlikely to be completely useless, and he certainly had better manners than his former teacher.

"Too late now," the lord said, slightly louder. "I won't have him stumbling into the middle of the meeting."

Nova said nothing; not that anything she could say would be welcome or heeded anyway. Tension sang in every nerve as she stared hard at the door, not sure what she was wishing would happen – that they would disappear, or not see her at all. Neither would happen.

She still jumped when the knock came, despite watching the door. A grey-faced maid opened it after a pause and bowed with clasped hands.

"The Caelumese representatives, my lord." She ducked to the side to allow three people through, eyes on the ground. It was probably a sound strategy, but Nova couldn't make herself look down, transfixed by a welling feeling of horror. The three who stepped inside were unknown to her, but they wore the braided hairstyles of members of the court, even their plainer travel clothing opulent with embroidery. The way they moved, the way they looked around as they entered, as if assessing status and relative advantage, was an image she knew well even if the faces were unfamiliar. Two of them ignored her presence entirely, bowing just low enough to the lord to prevent offence while making their views clear. The third, a woman who wore the thick braid of an imperial judge, met Nova's eye as if by accident. A questing of aura tickled the edges of Nova's awareness, and the woman's eyes widened with surprise even before she'd had a chance to slam up her defences; a titan effort, after years of not needing them. Using them on Jeorge had seemed a pointless waste of energy, but now she locked them so tightly she could barely perceive the visitors' auras in turn. She had no desire to know these people.