“Enough!” Thorn roared.
For all that she’d known what she was trying to do, she hadn’t truly expected it to work. Her voice was a thunderbolt, reverberating through the room; even the proud fey clutched their heads. All eyes turned back to her.
Thorn strode over to Cadrel, still trapped in his frigid prison. Even his empty eyes were wide.
“You want a kiss,” Thorn said. She glanced at the others. “You don’t want me to do it. So it seems this discussion is all about me. You.” She looked at Cadrel. “What exactly are you offering?”
“Three questions I will give you, and the answers told truthfully.” Eyebrows raised innocently over hollow sockets. “All for a single kiss, one memory for an old man to take with him to his grave.”
The Lord of Emerald Lights began to speak again, and Thorn silenced him with a piercing glare. “Now,” she said, looking at Tira. “Setting aside the fact that this little tragedy isn’t my problem. Why are you so concerned about me giving my old friend here a last kiss before Lord Syraen freezes his toes off?”
“Because this tragedy isn’t your problem,” Syraen hissed.
“He’s told you what is in his heart, nonetheless,” Tira said. “And what we all fear. You are not sworn to us. You cannot take such a risk with no gain.”
“Such a risk?” Thorn said. “It’s not my first kiss.”
“Fool of a girl,” Tira hissed. Her voice was filled with exhaustion. “Have you learned nothing? Have you never heard the tale of the princess sent to slumber for a thousand years, of the maiden turned to glass by my father’s touch? You walk in the world of stories now. This one harvests nightmares. There’s no knowing what he truly has in store for you.”
Thorn glanced at the imprisoned spy. “Is that it, Cadrel? Are you a lady-killer?”
His shoulders were bound in ice, but he managed a convincing shrug with his eyebrows. “I cannot promise your safety, my dear. That’s what gives spice to the story, isn’t it? I will hold to my promise: one kiss before you or I leave this room, and you will have three answers. As to whether you will survive the experience… there’s only one way for either of us to find out.”
He craned his neck forward, pursing his lips. An instant later, the ice was all around him, his head completely encased in the frigid prison.
“I have lost enough today,” Syraen said. “No more.”
Thorn turned to face him. “You’re afraid, is that it?”
The eladrin rose to his full height, glaring down at her. “Beware, woman. In this moment I owe you nothing.”
It’s the stories, Steel whispered. But Thorn understood.
“That’s right. You owe me nothing. And you’re terrified that I’ll do you a favor.”
“You’re learning.” It was the gnome who sat across the way. “This is our world and our way. Weakened as we are, we cannot shoulder an unknown debt.”
“Fine,” Thorn said, thoughts racing. A part of her wanted to walk away. Her task had been to escort Drix to the Tree, and she’d done that. Stories of the Mourning, the theft of the stone-none of that affected Breland.
Still, there was the mystery of it. Cadrel had been advising Oargev for years, and yet Cadrel’s deception had been designed to make the fey blame Cyre for the assault. Cadrel and Shan Doresh might be striking at the eladrin, but who else was getting caught in the crossfire? What might she learn by following through? Was she really afraid of a kiss?
She wanted to unravel the plot. Cadrel had almost pulled off the theft in her shadow. She wanted to know why. And if she could find some benefit for Breland, all the better.
“I can help you,” Thorn said. “So let’s talk terms. Mine are simple enough. I’m here as a representative of Breland. If I do this, you’ll open your gates to my people and accept ambassadors from the court.”
“Impossible,” Tira said, and the others nodded in agreement. “Look at the chaos you alone have brought with your arrival. We want nothing to do with your kings and your wars.”
“Just as well, I suppose,” Thorn said. “We don’t have much interest in yours. So I suppose I’ll be on my way.”
“Wait.” The eladrin woman raised a hand. “We cannot make promises to your king or to your kingdom. It is you who will take the risk on our behalf.” She looked at the other fey. “So what say you, ghaele all? Will you pay for her services?”
Thorn thought about a sharp reply, but she was curious to see where Tira was going. The entire situation had a dreamlike quality to it. Cadrel’s betrayal, Cazalan Dal, all of it… it was almost like listening to a story, and she was curious to see what would happen next.
One by one, the lords and ladies nodded.
Tira turned to Thorn. “Very well. We make this offer to you, not to your king, not to your country. Help us in this matter, with these questions and where it may lead. Help us and we shall each pay you in our own coin.” She looked at the others.
The gnome set a pendant on the table, a silver chain set with a stone that shimmered and shifted like the colors of his robe. “Within the walls of my citadel, we value words more highly than gold,” he said. “And I believe you are one who relies on her wits as well as her blade. Wear this and you shall understand any words you hear spoken. And any who hear you will understand you, as if you speak the tongue they both know and expect from you.”
The stone holds a strong divinatory aura, Steel said. It seems plausible. I’ve heard that House Sivis already has such a thing.
Thorn nodded. “Impressive,” she said. “And still, something I could buy myself if I had a little more coin. Not exactly a stone of immortality.”
“We cannot offer what we have already lost.” It was the ice lord, blue light gleaming in his eyes. “Nor would we, as it was that foolish action that has brought this dilemma upon us. You mock us, girl, and still I offer my blessing.” He removed a silver brooch from his cloak and set it on the table. “I offer protection. Wear my sigil and the cold will not touch you. You will never feel the chill of winter, never suffer discomfort or harm from the frost.”
Confirmed, Steel said. Elemental protection.
Again, it might be a useful trinket for her, but she hadn’t come there on a treasure hunt. How did any of that serve Breland? “A generous gift, to be sure,” Thorn said. She looked at the next eladrin.
Emerald lights spun around Lord Joridal, reflected in the gold of his robes. “I brought no jewels or treasures,” he said. “But my gift is one that transcends mere gold or silver. I offer you comfort. Aid us in this matter, and I will place my mark upon you. You will find that old friends cross your path sooner than expected, and new ones come to your door.”
That seems difficult to quantify, Steel murmured. It’s an intriguing idea, but he may simply be covering for the fact that he has nothing to offer.
Thorn was inclined to agree, but there was no need to embarrass the man; she’d gathered his spire was under assault, and it was hardly surprising that he had little to offer. She looked to the Rose Queen.
“Mine is the City of Rose and Thorn,” the woman said. “I will not open my gates to your kingdom. But should you serve us in this and live to tell of it, you will be welcomed with any you should bring.”
Well, that’s something, Steel said. Only one… still, a personal invitation, and a welcome.
Yes, Thorn thought. The other gifts were intriguing, yet left her nothing of great interest to take back to Zane. But that last… at least it opened the door for future exploration.
Only Lady Tira was left. “Perhaps it was my hand that set this tragedy in motion,” she said. “And so I must offer the greatest gift of all. I know you do not believe in what we seek to do. You do not believe that we can save your land by saving Marudrix. And so I make my offer to you. Aid us in this matter, and I will tell you the truth.”