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There was Able Ockley, the most dangerous duelist in the city. He was lost in conversation with Ethel Shiverian—she and her sister had practically invented the levitation magic that was keeping them all afloat right now in the Heights. Not to mention a hundred other spells. Balmerick’s headmaster—Priory Woods—looked red-faced and drunk, though that did not stop the grand emissary from sweeping over to pour more wine in her cup. Other members of the ruling houses were present: the Graylantians, the Proctors, and the Winterses. At the head of the table, the viceroy sat like a golden seal confirming their power. All of them chatted amicably as servants glided ghostlike in the background.
Theo guided Ren to where the other Broods were sitting. Landwin sat in gilded silence. His wife—Marquette—always seemed positioned slightly behind him, even when seated next to each other at the table. She kept her hair short, beautifully shaved on one side, and appeared to be uninterested in the conversations around them.
Ren’s attention was drawn by obnoxious laughter to the eldest son and heir to their house: Thugar Brood. She’d learned that his great vice was the flesh, which meant he rarely took notice of Ren. He kept himself in prime physical condition, nothing wasted, and his wife looked like she’d walked right out of a drunk’s fantasy. Ren thought if a single thread of her dress unraveled, she might come pouring out onto the table.
Beside them sat Tessa Brood. The girl waited, straight-backed with her hands folded neatly in front of her. Ren thought she was the most dangerous of the group. Quiet and intelligent. Tessa was a famous singer who had earned a permanent role in the city’s finest acting troupe. Ren had initially believed it the result of nepotism. Most of their positions were the result of nepotism. But then she’d heard Tessa sing. Her voice was threaded through with gold. It might have been more moving if she hadn’t heard Tessa use that same voice to skewer servants for even the slightest errors. She was tilted ever so slightly toward her mother, quietly commenting on something.
Theo and Ren took the two remaining seats. She felt a blush creep down her neck as their movement became some unspoken, final piece to the puzzle. As they sat—completing the table—the other conversations in the room fell quiet. Servants tucked away neatly into the corners of the room, nearly blending in with the wallpaper behind them.
The viceroy stood, tapping his glass with a spoon.
Delvean fairy tales were full of bumbling kings. They failed to do their duties and any number of wizards would arrive to save the day. The viceroy didn’t fit into those old stories. His ability with magic had been unrivaled at Balmerick—Ren knew some of his records there had endured the test of time. That felt like an important foundation for the man who existed as the primary check on the influence and power of the five major houses. His gray hair was thick and long, brushed back artfully. He had high cheekbones and a narrow jaw, covered over by a neat gray beard. He’d risen through the government—a second son from one of the minor houses—and Ren marveled at his calm as he addressed the wealthiest members of their society.
“Good evening,” he began. “I have several announcements that deserve your undivided attention—and then we will get back to the business of growing fat and happy. First, we’ve negotiated a new position with Ravinia. The recent sanctions against the freeport have been lifted. All of you may resume whatever trading you pretended to cease over the past three months. Everything can be out in the open again. Business as usual.”
There were a few nods, a few raised glasses.
“Next, I would ask Theo Brood to stand.”
A shiver ran down Ren’s spine. It felt like her name had been called too. She watched as her bond-mate took his feet. There was a lesson for her there, written in his posture. Power in the way he lifted his chin, set his shoulders, and stood before the closest thing they had to a king.
“As many of you know, the defense of our city—and its interests—is paramount. For all the petty rivalries that exist between the great houses, we have always been unified by that common interest. If war knocks on our door, we all answer. If a plague comes, we all share the antidote. It has always been this way between us. In peace, the best are allowed to thrive and survive. But in times of trial, the city’s livelihood is our greatest priority. Kathor comes first.
“As such, we take any appointment to the city’s defenses very seriously. It is no small task to be one of the shields that stands between Kathor and its enemies. After all, there are many who would take joy in seeing us fall. Any person appointed to such a role walks out into the world bearing our seal on behalf of our people. Theo Brood, do you think yourself worthy of such a calling?”
Ren could sense the emotions that question stirred in him. This was a moment that he’d patiently approached for many years. Now that it was here, he showed no signs of nervousness.
“I am ready and willing. My worth will be proven in time, Viceroy.”
She saw the viceroy’s eyes flick briefly to the right. When Ren followed his gaze, she caught the most subtle of nods from Landwin Brood. A silent confirmation between them. Then the viceroy’s attention swung back to Theo.
“Well spoken,” the viceroy said. “It is my honor then, on behalf of House Brood, to approve you as the next watcher of the valley. I am sure you’re familiar with this position. After all, a Brood has held the post—or a version of it—for nearly a century.…”
Ren might have missed what had happened if she didn’t feel pain sear a path across their bond. Her stomach turned and it took all her self-control to not react to that sudden rush of emotion. Theo’s pain dripped into her. His disappointment flooded her mind. She finally saw the error. He was not being named warden. The viceroy had used some other term.
“… the watcher might be a family title—and the mountain castle might belong to the Broods—but it also acts as a functional piece in the armor that Kathor wears. Thus, it falls to me to give final approval for the man or woman who should claim one of the most time-honored posts in our city’s long history.…”
She noted the others’ reactions just as Theo’s emotions honed into a fine-pointed shame. All around the table, smiles like daggers. The worst were offered by his own family. Thugar looked like he was barely keeping himself from laughing. His sister wore a condemning smirk. His mother’s eyes were downcast. Landwin Brood did not bother with the effort it took to smile. He simply watched his son take in the weight of what was happening. Ren could not help admiring the way Theo kept his face neutral. Even as the entire table enjoyed some joke at his expense, he stood his ground and pretended indifference. Ren felt a fierce sense of loyalty to him at that moment. Completely separate from their bond. Her fingers itched to reach for her wand and wipe the smiles off their faces. She’d never heard of that specific title, but the expressions around the table made it clear: this was no desirable fate.
“… you will take a few days, gather your possessions, and make your way to Nostra. You go with the full commendation of this city, the full support of your house, as well as the faith of your people. Everyone, raise a glass to Kathor’s newest watcher of the valley.”
A raucous cheer rang out, followed by the clinking of glasses. Those sounds could not fully hide the curious whispers around the room. Theo didn’t react the way Ren might have. He simply bowed his head, rather than thundering angrily out of the room. She felt that pitted dread in his stomach begin to roil. It was burning a path toward something Ren found far more useful: anger.
Theo took his seat and refused to look at any of his other family members. She waited to ask him until the servants hustled out the first course, distracting those seated nearby.
“What just happened, Theo? Where is Nostra?”
She had a vague inkling of an idea. A memory from some corner of a map.
“Exile,” he whispered back. “My father has exiled me.”
As a plate appeared in front of her, Ren heard the unspoken words at the end of that sentence. Words Theo would never say aloud, because he cared too much for her, even if they were true.
My father has exiled me… because of you.
Ren didn’t understand all the implications. She lacked context. Was it a true exile? Something else? For a while, the two of them sat there in silence, hating Landwin Brood in equal measure. They ate their food without a word, chewing like it was their only duty left in the world.
Topics that normally would have fascinated Ren made their way around the table. Magical theory and state secrets, all of it tangled with the light tinkling of silverware and glasses and laughter. Landwin Brood caught Ren’s eye as the entrées were served. He raised his glass, ever so slightly. A clear taunt. She’d imagined her bond with Theo would open an entirely new world. A rush of resources and power and influence. Her chance to begin setting an empire on fire.
