Thrones of Fire and Darkness

Chapter Three

We had been examining each other far too long, each being assessing the other. I looked to Rhys, who had also finished his layout of the land, and he cleared his throat. "Welcome, all, to Velaris, the City of Starlight. It is undergoing many reparations from the War and recent attacks, but it's citizens are more than pleased to hear of your presence tonight. Thank you all for coming." It was Thesan, ever polite, that said in return, "Thank you for having us here." There was silence, and then Beron spoke. "With all due respect," he said, his teeth flashing on the word 'respect' and his tone letting us know that he had no respect for us whatsoever, "May we please get to the point? Not only is milady hungry, but we have other things to do than get past courtesy." I bit my tongue as Rhys answered smoothly, "Of course." He motioned to the table for everyone to sit as he spoke down the bond. Don't let him get a rise out of you. That's what he wants. I sighed. I know.

Once everyone was seated and comfortable, the food began coming in. Platter after platter of steaming vegetables, juicy steaks, mounds of potatoes, and other delectable food items came whisking in, carried by the magic of the room. Rhys and I took servings from everything, trying a piece of each item. A test of strength, of honor, to test the food you serve to allies for poison, to test your hospitality for trickery. I had no doubt the High Lords were already testing it for any taint. Once we had finished, everyone began to help themselves, sitting in a stony yet content silence. Tarquin was the first to break it, saying, "Highest compliments to your chef." He was breaking apart a lobster as neatly as possible using his magic, Cresseida doing the same using her silverware. Efficient and yet easygoing. That was the sense their court always had given me. Thesan and Kallias murmured their agreement, digging into their own plates (steak and potatoes for the former, and charred salmon with beets for the latter), and Rhys smiled at them. "I will let Nuala, Cerridwen, and the other talented chefs know that you enjoyed their dishes."

I looked across the table and made eye contact with Beron. He had been eyeing his plate with disgust and not a small amount of contempt, the same contempt he reserved for me, Rhys, Mor... basically all things Night Court. Still bitter, always consumed in hatred. But what else did I expect? He sneered at me, pushing his food around with a fork. "No crafty plans this time, High Lady?" He practically spat the title out. The light from the chandelier glinted on his hand, and the large, obsidian ring he was wearing flashed towards my eyes, distracting me from the insult. Thesan asked politely, "New ring, I see. Any occasion?" Beron just smirked. "No, no reason." As he looked back to me, I could have sworn his russet eyes turned onyx for a split second. Then I blinked, and that dark taint was gone. But that ring... it felt wrong.

Uneasy, I shifted in my seat as Beron pushed his plate forward and his chair back. "What are we here to discuss?" Tarquin interjected, "We aren't here to discuss anything, Beron. We're here to enjoy a dinner and each other's company." At this, both Beron and Tamlin snorted, the latter covering it up with a cough. Rhys shot him a stony look. "What Tarquin said was true," he said, inclining his head towards the High Lord of Summer. "However, I would also like to discuss the finer details of the treaty while all of you are present." Tamlin said, bored, "We have already done that countless times." I said smoothly, "And yet, it still has not been finalized, has it." A rhetorical question, but Helion grinned and said, "No, I suppose it has not." Tamlin's fingers drummed on the table, his claws barely protruding from his knuckles, the only sign of his annoyance. And on his finger, there too was a ring. A small one, emerald green, studded with the same shade of obsidian as Beron's.

Rhys. Those rings don't feel right. I said down the bond. A moment of silence, then, I know. Try and use your power to feel it out. Not the minds, just the object in question. And be careful, he added. I nodded almost discernibly, and he leaned back in his chair, satisfied. I sent out the smallest tendril of power, letting it move tentatively across the length of the table towards the High Lord of Autumn. I lowered my vision into the magic realm, a new trick I learned recently. And as I glanced towards that dark ring, my eyes wreathed in magic....