The first official day of the Summit was not going well.
Unless I considered a bunch of pontificating old bastards arguing over the best way to kill me “well.”
Though perhaps this was how they always went. It was difficult to say, but there was a great deal of shouting and interrupting, and not a small amount of clamoring for my death.
So, all in all, just another typical day in Socair.
I still didn’t understand why they required my presence in the tent when I wasn’t allowed to speak up or defend myself. Iiro gave implicit instructions that I was only permitted to respectfully answer direct questions, and to keep my features neutral.
Apparently, my face was too expressive…
Seven more days of this was going to be torture.
We had been sitting at the semi-circle shaped table for well over three hours going over the different versions of the same conversation again and again. I watched the dust dance within the beams of light streaming in from the opening in the tent above us, trying to keep my expression under control.
And given the nonsense they were spewing out, I was rather proud that I hadn’t made a single face, yet.
“All those who died because of her parents being reckless and giving no thought to anyone but themselves, and here she is, the very same,” Sir Nils, the duke from Wolf who had threatened me last night, said. “Let us just be done with her.”
“And start a war with Lochlann?” Mila’s father, Sir Arès, protested.
“What can Lochlann do to us here, through a single mountain pass, when every man we have is trained and we will have the advantage of familiar lands.” This from the one who had proposed an arrangement, Sir Mikhail.
Interesting. I shot him a pleasantly befuddled smirk, which he promptly ignored.
“Perhaps they couldn’t win, but surely none of us would volunteer to be the sacrificial lamb before they are eliminated.” Arès looked pointedly at Evander, who was too busy glaring between Theo and Iiro to notice.
“They would not make it through the pass with Clan Bear there, and we would lend our forces,” the leader of Bison chimed in.
Sir Timofey of Clan Eagle spoke in Socairan, and I had no way of knowing which side he was speaking for.
“Regardless,” Lord Evander finally spoke up from the chair closest to my left. “It would be at great cost to us, gaining us nothing in return. Why bother killing her when we can ransom her instead? Lochlann has both goods and money.”
“You want to send her home unharmed after what her family did to yours?” Sir Nils sounded offended at the prospect.
“That is precisely why I want to leverage this situation,” he answered in a bored tone. “Haven’t we all suffered enough at the hands of them?”
Sir Mikhail scoffed. “This is why your father should have come himself. He has never been so soft he would shy away from war, or vengeance.”
Lord Evander’s features turned to ice. “My father couldn’t be bothered with these trivialities, and frankly, I don’t blame him. Surely eight days is excessive for a single girl.”
“Not just any girl,” Mikhail shot back.
And so on it went.
When two of the lords started arguing in Socairan, the expressions getting crueler and more heated, I turned to Theo with a questioning look. He gave the barest shake of his head, and his features could have been carved from marble for all they gave away.
Was that good? Bad?
“Don’t worry, Princess.” Evander shot me a cruel smirk as he leaned toward me, keeping his voice just above a whisper. “They’re only debating whether to send your limbs back to your family one by one or just a vial of ashes.”
My fingers suddenly felt numb, but I forced my features into amusement. “Surely that first option would get rather expensive, what with all the costs associated with that many messengers,” I murmured under my breath. “Not to mention time-consuming. And honestly, who’s going to volunteer to travel six weeks or more with a rapidly decaying limb?”
The lord from Clan Bear blinked, his lips parting in surprise.
“And the ashes, well, those could belong to anyone or anything,” I went on just as quietly. “Honestly, I expected more from a nation of barbarians. Do feel free to tell me if something more interesting comes up, though.”.
I wasn’t about to let the arseling know how much his words had bothered me. To even imagine such a thing happening to my parents because of me…well, it was unthinkable.
I ignored him after that, focusing my attention back on the rest of the table. The clan leaders continued to discuss my fate in two languages, forcing me to wonder, was it better to have your gruesome death painstakingly spelled out for you or to be kept in the dark?
Decisions, decisions.
