Azazel_E

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“Over here, Lou.”

As promised, Marcella is waiting for us in the hotel’s dining room. We aren’t the only ones making use of the room and several gazes turn to us as we walk toward the large table in the back. I look at the crowd, taking note of the different customers. My eyes that have mingled amongst nobility all my life have no trouble separating the fake wealth of accomplished hunters and successful merchants from the blue bloods.

Their reactions are what give them away. The nobles watch us with discerning gazes, wondering who we are to be sitting with the Guiness in charge of the golden family’s ventures in the city. The merchants avert their gazes and glance at us discretely, well-acquainted with the art of subtlety. The wealthy hunters leer at us without concern, sure of their strength and position. Something I can hardly fault them for. I’m sure Alana, Yulia, Talia, and I make for quite the sight. Jac declined the dinner invitation, too self-conscious to sit with a Guiness on short notice I bet, and I told the succubi to stay behind. Junior knew better than to try coming.

Marcella welcomes us with a bright smile as we fill out the table reserved for us. It doesn’t take long for a serving girl to bring us drinks, mugs of water. “The hotel prepares a simple meal every night but if you have a taste for something particular, our chefs can hopefully accommodate you. We also have a variety of drinks available.”

“I’m fine with whatever,” I say, unwilling to think about it deeply when the food will be subpar at best, my tastes too accustomed to a succubus’ cooking. The others share similar sentiments and our hostess waves off the serving girl. Her stormy eyes flick over our group before settling on me.

“I see Kierra isn’t joining us. Is everything alright?”

“Fine. She’s simply handling some business back at the estate. I’m more concerned about the person missing from your side of the table.”

“You’re referring to Maxine? She’s out of the city on business.”

“Business?”

The merchant’s sensual lips turn up in a charming smirk. “It surprised me as well, but my sister seemed quite convinced of an opportunity when she departed. I hope it works out for her. First times are always so awkward.”

I clear my throat as I mentally shake off the images conjured by her tone. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

The smirk turns into a pout. “Not satisfied with one Guiness daughter?”

“Just concerned for a friend.”

“Are we not friends?” Marcella leans forward and my eyes unconsciously flick down to her ample chest. “I was hurt to hear I hadn’t been invited to your party, Lou.”

“You wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that.”

“Hey.” I wouldn’t say Alana looks angry, but she certainly isn’t happy. Marcella is unfazed, smile brightening as she faces my annoyed knight. “You said you know something about the hunters?” Her words are innocuous but anyone with any social graces can hear the underlying message; quit flirting and make yourself useful.

I suppose that’s another rejection. I glance at Talia, wondering if the merchant will manage three for three. She seems to have a talent for pissing off my lovers.

Marcella sighs dramatically. “I prefer to mix business with pleasure, but you are my guests. I will abide by your desires.” Her expression sobers. “Opinions have been shifting rapidly. Immediately after the March, the guilds were ready to go to war. Hunters with connections to Victory, led by a man named Slaid, worked tirelessly to convince the different leaders that negotiating was the best option. It took a lot of heated arguments and a few brawls, but they finally understood that denying the March would incite war. However, the recent news of the campaign has emboldened them.”

“What recent news?” Yulia asks as she leans forward. Allen, who is nodding off while cuddled up to her, startles, either from the movement or the urgency in her voice. The rest of us are similarly interested, though Talia’s expression doesn’t show as much.

“You do not know? I see.” For the first time, Marcella appears hesitant. “It…” She trails off as the serving girl returns with more cups, mugs and glasses filled with juice and wine. Marcella takes one of the glasses and waits until the girl finishes her work before continuing.

“My information is scant at best, you all should know well how hard it is to get information out of the fort, but there have been several reports of strange weather patterns. Apparently, the spring storms came early, much earlier than ever before.”

Both James daughters suck in a sharp breath. Neither is happy to receive the news. In fact, Yulia is clearly horrified, eyes wide with fear as she clutches her son tightly.

“Did my—did the Northern Devil return?” Yulia asks in a hesitant voice.

“I haven’t received news of his death or any other field commander. I would say that bodes well but for the last week, I haven’t received any word from the north. Nothing at all.”

“No news is good news, right?” I ask in a weak attempt to ease the tension over the table. It doesn’t help. Saints damn it all, we need to go back to Victory, don’t we? “We can check on the fort.”

“…no,” Alana says. Her sister bites her lip but holds her opinion. “Victory has survived the worst the north has thrown at it for five centuries. Experienced healers would be appreciated but they have plenty of their own. Anyone who made it back will be fine and those who didn’t couldn’t be helped by the saints themselves. But it would be good if we could send a messenger to the north to make sure our family is safe.”

“That could be arranged,” Marcella says. “So long as there is a way for you to prove that the messenger is there on your behalf. I doubt they will be welcomed otherwise.”

“I will handle it,” Yulia says quickly. Her concern is clearly eating at her, but she hasn’t suggested returning home. While I admire her dedication, I don’t understand it. There is nothing that could keep me from running to my lovers if I thought they could be in trouble. Nothing. A reaction that could be called emotional, but Yulia’s calm feels cold to me. Perhaps there is some northern snow in her veins.

“If the storms caught the armies unaware, there would have been heavy casualties,” Alana says. “The hunters from the north would know that. They might convince the guilds that Victory doesn’t have the numbers to march on the city, taking the need for negotiations off the table.”

“A foolish thought,” her sister continues. “Even if there were only ten Moons that could fight, they would march and they would fight to their last breath. They couldn’t overwhelm the city, but they would do significant damage. More importantly, the north doesn’t forget. Even if they don’t march immediately, they will in the future. Generation after generation, until the debt is paid. Quest will burn, whether it takes a week, a month, or a century.”

Marcella takes a long drink from her glass and her brows are furrowed when she puts it down. “The hunters don’t care about a year from now. They only care that a young noblewoman that has killed many of their own is coming back with intentions of robbing them blind. Lou’s criminal status isn’t helping. They feel…insulted. I doubt I need to explain how much powerful people value their pride and image.”

No, she doesn’t. “I think I need to make something clear,” I say, voice carefully neutral. “Our attempts at negotiation are my attempts to live a more virtuous life. It is a mercy. We don’t need the north’s knights to get our way. That is merely a threat they can properly conceive. Let me make this clear. If the hunters don’t satisfy the conditions of the March, I will decimate this city.”

I have to. As cruel as it may seem, it’ll save more lives in the end. “So, if you are as vested in Quest’s prosperity as you claim, you will convince the hunters not to do something stupid and as soon as possible.” The longer this drags on, the greater the chance that someone will make a mess of things.

The merchant smiles at me. “I will do everything I can to aide you.”