by Frost Kay
“I wasn’t spoken for then, neither am I now.”
The older man arched an eyebrow as the room went completely silent.
Sage shrugged and shot Gavriel a real smile before spinning around to face the room again, her cloak sweeping the floor. “Let’s not dawdle. Please hand over your demands.”
Mason and the older gentleman stepped forward and each handed her a scroll. She glanced at the scrolls, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. This determined their futures. Sage lifted her head and handed each gentleman the opposite side’s proper scroll. There. It was done.
She copied the smile her mum used when she was proud of her children. “Now, that wasn’t so hard was it? We will meet in six days at a location of my choosing. Once negotiations begin, they will not end until an agreement is made. Think wisely, gentlemen. As for today, if I find out that anyone was followed,” she looked pointedly at Sam, who flashed her an innocent smile. “There will be consequences.” She jerked her chin toward Zachael. “If you think he is dangerous, you don’t want to see me angry.”
She turned to her former comrades. “That goes for you as well. No threats, no tricks, no violence. If I catch wind of any of shenanigans, I have a friend who is fond of tying a barrel to one’s boots and dropping that individual off the dock to see how long he can hold his breath. Understood?” she barked.
The group of men straightened under her unflinching regard.
“I have things to attend to. Good day.”
Sage spun, taking a few steps, sprinted to an older chair, using it to vault herself up and into the beams. She pulled herself up and looked down at the curious faces below her. She allowed a grin touch her face. “Be safe, gentlemen,” Sage imparted as she escaped through the hatch up onto the roof. She ran sure-footedly across the roof and leapt to the next roof, rolling out of her landing. She popped up and sprinted across. They wouldn’t be able to follow her this way. Only six more days until the future of Aermia would be decided. Hopefully, they wouldn’t all kill each other.
Not likely.
Chapter Eight
Tehl
He gaped at the trapdoor like a fool. She had catapulted herself off a chair and into the rafters, then disappeared. Sage somehow still surprised him.
“What a woman,” Sam muttered. “Did you see how she twisted her body and pulled herself up? Imagine what she could do…”
“If you value your life, you will not finish that thought,” warned the giant across from them. His glacial eyes stared daggers at Tehl’s brother but that was not the person his brother needed to worry about. It was the golden eyes that had locked onto Sam with such malice it had him elbowing his brother in the side.
Sam glanced first to him and then to Rafe. His brother’s smile dropped to a scowl. “Your minds are filled with filth. Before you so rudely cut me off, I was going to say imagine what she could do for the Elite.”
Tehl schooled his face. He was sure that wasn’t what Sam would have said. What made him wary was that Rafe’s amber eyes still hadn’t moved from his brother. Stars above, they didn’t need any fights. He shuffled to the side, blocking his brother. Tehl crossed his arms as aggressive eyes snapped to his face. “Do we have a problem?” he asked, feigning boredom. Rafe could try to intimidate him all he wanted, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything.
Rafe blinked and then relaxed. “No, we do not.”
“We will see you in six days then.”
Tehl nodded, signaling that it was time to leave. Zachael, Garreth, William, and Gavriel circled Sam and himself. They quickly parted ways with the rebels and quietly chatted about inconsequential things on the way back home. He itched to know what was held in the scroll, but it would have to wait until they arrived.
***
“What do you mean they want representation on the council?” Jaren barked.
The bickering and arguing had started as soon as the demands were read:
1. Money sent to the families who’d lost their loved ones or homes to the Scythians.
2. Any service provided by a rebellion member would receive compensation.
3. Lower taxes.
4. Restoration on the Mort wall.
5. No seizure of rebellion weapons and assets.
6. A rebellion member has the choice to accept an assignment or decline without punishment.
7. All previous unlawful acts pardoned.
8. Equal representation of the rebellion on the council.
“It means exactly what the letter says, Jaren.” William retorted.
Jaren threw his hand in the air. “This is ridiculous! Why are we negotiating with them?” He leaned forward in his chair with a gleam in his eye that Tehl didn’t care for. “We have access to something they care about.” He paused. “The rebel woman.”
The whole table of men stared at him.
“We do,” Gavriel said, carefully, his violet eyes shuttered.
“She is a bargaining piece. If we captured her, we would force their hand. Not to mention we’d have knowledge of their main base.”
“It’s not a bad idea, in theory, but the consequences would be heavy,” Jeb, the strategist, inserted.
Tehl kept the bored expression on his face, waving away Jaren’s idea. “It’s an option, but the whole point of this treaty is to avoid bloodshed. No doubt if we pursued this course many lives would be lost. The matter is closed. The rebel woman won’t be harmed or touched.” His voice rang through the room. Some looked ready to argue. Time to change the subject. “Which of these are reasonable to you?”
“Home reconstruction and monies for the families is doable,” Lelbiel answered. “I can check with Demari, but I’m certain we can afford it.”
“Good.” Tehl thought so too. “Next.”
“Compensation for the rebel members,” Garreth added. “We’re paid a wage for our service to the Crown. It’s logical for them to receive it as well.” The blond man hesitated a moment. “I think they also should have a say in assignments. They aren’t part of the Guard or Elite. The rebels aren’t soldiers. They are not bound like we are.”
Zachael eyed Garreth, then bowed his head in agreement. “I agree, we do not want unwilling men. That only leads to danger, confusion, and, possibly, dissention.”
“Two down. What else?” Tehl asked.
“I don’t think they all should be pardoned just because their leaders made a treaty with us,” William stated. “I believe in actions speaking louder than words. Hard work deserves rewards, so they must work with us, help us; only then will they receive pardon. ”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Tehl liked that idea. No charity. You work for your privileges.
“The restoration of the Mort Wall is not possible.” Jeb looked around the table. “The time, labor, and assets it would take to fix it are unreasonable. A project on that scale isn’t possible. It would take years. The Mort Wall is more memorial than protection anyway. Not to mention it would put our laborers near the Scythians. We would knowingly put them in danger and possibly even lose them to their raids.”
Tehl thought about the Mort Wall. It had been built after the last war with Scythia, hundreds of years ago, after the Nagalians’ genocide. Shortly thereafter, a deadly plague spread throughout the Scythian people with rumors that it had something to do with their questionable use of science but little more was known. What they did know was that the wall went up to keep the Scythians out, and all the danger they presented. But now it was mostly rubble.
“It’s a waste of time and resources,” Sam put in. “I say we veto that one.”
“Agreed.” Tehl looked at Jaren, who was examining the wood grain of the table. “What of the taxes, Jaren?”
“We can’t lower them.” Jaren winced. “I wish we could, but there isn’t a way. The taxes are levied based on what a household can pay, not everyone pays the same thing. We are not out of line. It been a rough couple of years for everyone.” Jaren slumped into his chair looking like he’d aged ten years.
“Thank you, Jaren, moving on.”
“The weapons,” Zachael spoke up. “We need them. It would save money if we were spared the necessity of forging more by using the rebellion’s weapons. We’d be that much closer to being prepared for a Scythian attack.”
“That could kill two birds with one stone,” Lelbiel commented.
“All right.” Tehl swept the table looking for someone brave enough to bring up the final point, representation on their council.
Gavriel stood and placed his hands behind his back. “I think that having their men on our council would round us out and give us a fresh perspective. Many of us don’t live among the people or make a living in the city. The only information we receive is secondhand. It could prove to be both informative and helpful to us to know what the people are thinking.”
“Once a traitor, always a traitor,” Jaren muttered.
Lelbiel nodded in agreement.
All eyes turned to him in question. Tehl didn’t like the idea of Rafe having a seat of power because his motives were still questionable. The men in the room all had their flaws, but they were trustworthy. Out of all the rebellion’s demands, this one seemed like it would be their most important, it would no doubt be non-negotiable. His personal feelings aside, it would actually be a smart move. No one from the rebellion could cry foul because they would have representation and therefore be a part of the decisions. Tehl didn’t like it, but he would do it for the people of Aermia. And they could no doubt work around it, should the need arise.
Tehl cracked his neck and straightened in his chair. “We will grant them this request in exchange for their weapons. I also would prefer not to have them on our council but it matters not what I want, but what is best for Aermia.” He met each man’s eyes. “We are bound by duty.” Solemn nods followed his statement.
“And if they choose women?” William proposed, a sly glint in his eyes.
“Perhaps you don’t recall in your old age, William, but my mother was part of this council. We wouldn’t dream of treating the fairer sex any differently than one of you.” Sam’s teeth gleamed white against his tan face.
William sat back, satisfied, while the rest of his council seemed to ponder the last statement. Tehl knew what old William was thinking. No doubt Sage would be among those chosen. He would never be rid of her unless she resigned. That thought perked him up as she would no doubt detest being so near him. She was bound to disappear after a short while. That was what she was best at.
Lelbiel pulled the smaller letter Sage had slipped to Garreth and examined it. Lelbiel’s eyes narrowed, pinching at the corner before he smiled. “It seems that the lady liaison didn’t restrict the number of men this time to six. You can bring your full council, and an addition of four Elite. It’s interesting that she wouldn’t allow you to bring protection the first time but now she will allow it. I wonder what that means?”
Zachael snickered. “It means she expects violence. She is warning us to prepare for the negotiation.”
“Indeed,” Sam mused at his side.
Tehl stood, staring at the room. “Unless something comes up in the next six days, we have no reason to meet. If you need me, request an audience.” With his dismissal, chairs screeched across the floor as his advisors stood and bowed. One by one they left the room.
That had been easier than he thought. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Sam frowning, and a faint wrinkle appeared in between his golden blond eyebrows. “Something on your mind?”
Sam peered at him, blue eyes full of calculation. “Sage allowed us four Elite and your full council. She expects mischief.” His brother blew out a frustrated breath. “I hate not knowing the location. I can’t scout or place any sneaks.”
Tehl’s mouth twitched from the effort to keep a smile from his face. “I believe that is the reason she did it this way,” he deadpanned.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Stop making fun of me, this is serious. Your life is going to be in danger.”
That sobered him. “We need to be prepared then.”
***
The next six days sped by in a flurry of day-to-day activities and training with the Elite every chance he got. Sam was right, he’d gotten soft spending so much time in the palace. Every night he fell into bed, aching and exhausted, but content.
The missive arrived early that morning announcing the time and place of the meeting. When night fell, all of his men were armed to the teeth. They were to meet at a pub between the fishing district and merchant district. Tehl and his twelve men set out in pairs to Sanee, it was less conspicuous that way. Sam paired with Garreth and disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Zachael walked beside him, assessing every person as well as their surroundings for any potential threats to his person. They wound through the city in companionable silence. Zachael didn’t talk for the sake of talking, and Tehl appreciated that about his combat master.
After a while, Tehl at last spotted the pub. It was ordinary, but, after a second look, he noted that the quality of the craftsmanship stood out. It had a thick wooden door framed by two small windows with iron welded in patterns across it.
“Smart,” Zachael commented. “The windows look like art, but they’re built for protection.”
The pair moved up three stone steps and onto the deck. Zachael reached for the door only to have it jerked back from his grip. The light haloed the alluring curves of a woman with shocking silvery white hair.
“Please come in.”
Her smoky voice draped over him. The woman was dressed most unusually with fabric draped here and there to cover her body. Was it one piece? He wanted to roll his eyes, thinking how Sam would love to investigate such a type of dress. The purple scarf wrapped around her head emphasized her shocking magenta eyes. A knowing smirk played along her lips while she watched him gawk at her.
Tehl flashed her an apologetic smile before muttering a speedy, “Thank you.”
A black curse tore his attention from the unusual female he’d been examining. Tehl quickly snagged Zachael’s arm just before he lunged forward.
“Let me go. I’ve a traitor to deal with.” The weapons master snarled quietly.
Tehl scanned the room and stiffened as he spotted the source of Zachael’s anger.
Serge.
The smug bastard was leaning against the bar sipping a brew, watching Zachael with obvious amusement. Tehl wanted to rip the man’s heart out, but he also knew now was not the time. He reeled in his friend, whispering harshly in Zachael’s ear. “Now is not the time, old friend. He will get what he deserves in time.”
Zachael nodded that he heard Tehl but didn’t drop his eyes from the traitor lounging ten feet away. Tehl turned away from Serge when the man waved at them lazily. Two long narrow tables sat in the room with an open space in the middle. Men lounged around the room but there was a definite division between the two groups. Tehl nodded to Rafe when he caught the rebellion leader’s eyes.
Tehl stood behind an empty chair at the odd table, waiting for the meeting to begin. A hush fell over the room as light steps echoed from a hallway intersecting the bar. Sage glided into the room in a pair of skin-tight black leather breeches, a white linen shirt, and a snug green vest, making the most of her every curve. She smiled at the group, stopping in the center of the room, demanding every man’s attention.
She cocked a hip and ran her hand over a dagger sheathed to her arm. Sage looked up from underneath her lashes and spun in a slow circle inspecting the men. Tehl straightened when her gaze ran over him before moving on. The wench was bold, he would give her that.
“As you can see, I am armed.” She gestured to the dagger on her arm and smiled. “But that’s my prerogative being the liaison.” She lifted her chin. “Captain Femi and Hayjen will collect your weapons.”
Protests broke out. She raised her hand, and the room quieted. “This is a peace meeting, you will not need them.” Her face hardened. “If you keep a weapon and use it, there will be
consequences.” Her harsh gaze swept over the room. “Captain Femi knows of some unique ways to punish. I believe one of her favorites is to drop you in leviathan-infested waters and see if you can swim back to shore.”
Utter silence filled the room. Leviathans were nasty creatures. The vicious creatures were similar to dolphins, but that’s where all similarities ended. They had row after row of sharp teeth, and a love of flesh that made any man shudder.
She quirked a grin at Zachael. “That is if she gets to you before me. There is a reason they call me Blade.”
Dark chuckles rumbled through the rebellion’s men causing Sage to smile.
She clapped her hands together. “This is how we will proceed. I will flip a coin, whomever wins gets to start the negotiations. Please pass Captain Femi and Hayjen your weapons and we can proceed.”
The weapons collection was a slow-going process. Every man boasted a sword and daggers. Sam grumbled the entire time while stripping his off beside him. Sage winked at his brother before barking at Madden about a dagger in his boot.
Tehl removed his weapons, this time ignoring the exotic woman. He couldn’t keep his gaze from the green-eyed vixen running the meeting. Despite her bold act, he noted how uncomfortable she was with all the men. Every so often her hands would shake. He pulled his eyes from her as the last person was relieved of their weapons.
Rafe.
Apparently the man carried an entire armory with him.
The giant man, Hayjen, gestured to the wicked looking daggers strapped to both legs. Rafe shook his head, staring straight at Sage. Her face was cool as she strode across the room, stopping in front of the rebellion leader.
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?”
“He won’t hand over his blades,” Hayjen explained.
Tehl leaned forward in his seat along with the rest of the room. How would she deal with the defiant rebellion leader?
Sage peered up at Rafe, tension in her whole body. “You need to hand over your weapons, there are no exceptions.”