Page 82 of A Courage of the Chosen

Brodie and Rach are among the few that know what we’re planning, and have been strategically placing themselves nearby when I’m speaking with one of the council members, to eavesdrop, and then share their insights after the conversation has finished. Or, in Brodie’s case, to poke fun at the way I handled it.

“Three down, two to go,” Rach adds encouragingly.

Callahan agreed to be the one to speak with Hector. I couldn’t bring myself to lie to him like that when he’s been nothing but supportive since he saw Tavish’s true nature.

Which leaves only Lady Navin and Lord Fettis.

“I don’t even know how to approach it,” I groan, tipping my head back.

“Play to their egos. They’ve got the biggest ones in that room. Kiss their arses a little and they’ll eat it up.” Brodie shrugs, like it’s really that simple.

Lord Fettis passes us then, arm in arm with a short Seelie that looks as unimpressed as he does.

Rach nudges me forward with her elbow. “No time like the present.”

“Eugh.” I roll my shoulders, plastering on a half-smile.

“Lord Fettis.” I near them on quick feet. “Would you like to join me for a drink?”

His wife dips into a curtsey and politely excuses herself, but doesn’t go far. A member of staff materializes with a tray of drinks, from which Lord Fettis takes a tumbler with an inch of whiskey in the bottom, and I grab a water. I’ve had three wines already, and the effects of it are blurring my edges. Edges that I need sharp.

“What is it?”

My neck prickles at his curt tone, and the fact he still isn’t accepting my title in the way the others have.

“I know you don’t like me, or truly believe what I have to say. But that’s why your opinion matters to me. You hold me to different standards than everyone else.”

His eyes light up. “Well, that is the role of the council. To hold the monarch to account.”

Okay, so we’re just ignoring the fact he let Raghnall get away with what he did for a century? Got it.

“Of course. There’s still a lot for me to learn, but I’m confident I can be the kind of ruler you all respect. Which is why I wanted to discuss a private matter with you, and only you.”

Lord Fettis shuffles closer, bringing the stench of alcohol with him.

“I’m intending on sending more supplies out. Along the Dalveen. What risks does it pose?”

The route is to the North, and a hot spot for Brollachan attacks. A fact which he should advise me of, if he’s someone I can trust. But it is the fastest way to the northernmost villages in Elfayne.

“Well, we stopped sending guard patrols along it because men kept going missing. It’s rife with Dorche.”

One point to Lord Fettis.

“But the convoys are being targeted either way. Seems sensible to try alternate routes. Although, it’s a waste of effort and resources to continue this folly. My advice is to cease sending them altogether, and focus our time and energy where it’s needed.”

Minus one point to Lord Fettis. Break even.

“And while I understand your perspective, I refuse to do nothing while my people suffer. We can help them, so we should.”

Lord Fettis harrumphs, unimpressed. “So you’ll send them on the Dalveen then?”

“Yes. They will leave at first light.”

“Very well.”

A heavy presence steps into the space at my back. If I didn’t recognize the tingle in my chest, the narrowing of Lord Fettis’s eyes would tell me exactly who it is.

“I shall leave you to your evening.” He dips his head, the smallest gesture he can possibly get away with.