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Still, I’m curious. Many demis are capable of using more brain capacity than commons. There are plenty of intelligent commons, but the best of them rarely do as well as the best of us, academically or otherwise.
I wonder if theyarereferring to my friend Daria. She was smart enough to earn a scholarship here. Maybe she’s the one who got the better of him. I dismiss the thought. To my knowledge, the Devar king studies business and economics, or something equally boring. Daria’s into applied sciences, with an elective in alchemy. They shouldn’t share many courses.
“Who are you again?” Zale asks, except it’s not a question, it’s a challenge.
Who am I to dare question him, or even talk to him?
"She's no one, Devar."
I shoot Reiks another glare.
He is right, though. I'm no one. The weak Frejr. The futurehealer,in a clan of warrior witches. Seven hells, today I’m his secretary.
I still want to tear his smirk off for dismissing me so easily.
Selina frowns. “Aren’t you one of my Frejr cousins?”
I incline my head. “Yes.”
Zale sighs and shrugs with complete disinterest. I suppose that if I’m not lowly enough to crush under his boot, I’m irrelevant.
“All right, shall we?” Reiks’s voice cuts off further banter. “I want to discuss relief efforts in the undercity first.”
Zale grimaces in distaste. “The undercity doesn’t take aid. They’re too proud for that.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t help,” Selina scolds him. “Funneling funds into it might be the difference between life and death for some street kid in the winter.”
I’m surprised again when this gathering turns out to be exactly what I first assumed, rather than a hangout between friends: a strategy meeting about the fate of the realms between our next leaders.
Not the big picture, the wars, the challenges to their respective crowns, the rebels their parents deal with. The little things they can control.
“No onediesbecause of the winter.”
“You’re such a self-centered idiot.” Rovan shakes his head in disbelief. “Hundreds of homeless kids freeze every year. Just because you aren’t affected by the cold doesn’t mean the rest of the world is immune. Look at the royal reports for once.”
Zale’s lip curls, but he says nothing.
Dismissive of the thinly veiled animosity, Reiks clears his throat. “I propose a simple plan of action. We put funds together, and we spend it in the undercity. It’s not just drugs and gambling down there. They have plenty of artisans—tailors, painters, sculptors, glass blowers, people of that ilk. We can become their clients. An influx of money into their class ought to trickle through the undercity.”
“And earn us a knife in the back as a reward,” Zale mutters.
He’s the spoilsport of the group, I decide. In this case, he also happens to be right. Even with a disguise, those five would be spotted and targeted within seconds of entering the undercity.
The clinic where I work on Strejadays is located downtown, at the edge of the undercity, and even that area is fairly dangerous. My family pays a couple of guards for my protection when I travel to and from my internship.
“We could send servants,” the Dorathian suggests.
“And getthemkilled instead. Great plan.”
“How about purchasing things on the globe?” I purposely look at Reiks as I speak, rather than letting Zale pin me with another glare that clearly saysshut up. “Most artists will load pictures of their work on the global network nowadays, to gain a following. You could contact some from the area and offer payment on delivery. You’ll just need to rent somewhere neutral and have a servant facilitate the transaction. That would limit the chances of stabbings.”
Reiks shoots me a look I can’t read before inclining his head. “All right, all in favor?”
Everyone agrees—even Zale gives a reluctant nod.
“We’ll just need to decide on the budget.”
I’m stunned to realize Reiks is the leader of the royal pride. The others look to him for guidance, though he isn’t the principal player in the room. That honor befalls Zale. Reiks, as a future king, comes second.
