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Drake tapped his fingers on the armrest, like a spider walking slowly in place. “With your permission for this counter-rebellion, the opposing forces and the ones who have not yet decided whose side they are on, are more likely to surrender to us peacefully. You can reduce the casualties. Give us your royal signature and thumbprint showing you support us.”
“That simple?”
“For now. There is another matter I will discuss but it can wait. Do you agree?”
“The alternatives?”
His hand ceased to drum. Drake regarded her intently. Perhaps he was not used to a female bargaining with him?
“Exile from the kingdom or imprisonment. Though some of my people would argue for your death, I would not allow it.”
Agree and have fewer dead among her people. Say no and... yeah, those bad things.
She’d come to ask for this anyway. It could be worse. Far worse. There was no time for slow and deliberate discussion, or contemplation.
She shut her eyes a moment then answered. “I agree.”
“Good.” Drake clapped his hands together. “Aegis?”
It was surprising how quickly they organized a document for her to sign and thumbprint, as well as a small voice message to record. Running off copies of each would be a simple matter.
They sat her at the table, placed the paper before her, having shifted aside the glass of water and small meal of fruit and meat she’d been given while the document was written.
She signed, pressed her thumb down, and recorded a message. It made her feel as if she were the traitor. If Vass won, this would be her death warrant.
The general hurried out with the document and recording, and she pushed away from the table, rising to her feet.
Again, Drake deposited himself into his throne chair. He’d shared the small meal with her and though she’d ignored him, he’d been a brooding presence.
“Soon I must join this little war; however, there is the other part of our agreement. A more personal one.”
This sounded ominous.
“I need a more personal assurance that you will obey me, and since you are considered the hereditary leader of Dywin, there can be only one solution. When this is done, I will rule through you and I will be, eventually, declared your consort.”
Half the words in that were anathema.
Obey.
I will rule through you.
“Consort?” she muttered. Did that mean mating with him? “But I am human and royalty. You are mauleon.”
“Exactly,” he purred. “Deny me now and imprisonment is your only option. I will not exile you.”
“There would be no...” She swallowed, firmed her voice. “No mating allowed.”
“You will need to learn that some decisions are mine, not yours.”
Said so calmly and deliberately, and he meant to corner her. Panic wriggled about, deep within her chest, wanting to get out. Panic would scramble her brain and this needed clear thought.
No panicking. So easy to think it, harder to do.
Prison or allow Drake to be called her consort? There was always wriggle room in contracts—she recalled that from lessons. Especially if, as it seemed, this would not be recorded in writing.
Pin him down to facts. Before she ran away? If only that were possible.
“How soon would that need to be announced?”
