Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords #3)(58)

I saunter into the middle of the room, making sure no one is reminded of the Tatuma sitting there a couple of sectors ago. The harness catches the eye of the men closest to me and I give them a teasing wave. Last time I sat here, I was dressed in Kedrick’s oversized trousers and coat. I doubt anyone is remembering the Tatuma Olina.

“Where’s me mate?” I ask, picking at my teeth. Humor sprints across the king’s face. I swear he almost laughs, coughing several times behind his hand before facing me with a flushed face. I bite down on an escaping giggle.

“Your friend is on his way,” he says tersely. “Please take a seat.”

I deliberate my choices and walk around to take Blaine’s chair.

There are a few gasps from the council.

“I meant the chair in the middle,” Jovan says drily. I raise my hands in innocence, but don’t move, instead kicking my feet on top of the table.

“My King,” Blaine starts. Jovan silences him and the greasy man selects a seat directly beside me while I grin at his humiliation and bat my eyelashes his way. Actually, this is a good opportunity.

“Ain’t I seen you at the pit fights before?” I ask Blaine. My word as Frost means nothing in here—not against an advisor.

“You are mistaken,” Blaine sneers.

“Naw, I don’t think so.” I say. “But I can see why you wouldn’t want anyone to know.” I give an exaggerated tilt of the head to the rest of the room. I glance at Jovan and he looks away, jaw ticking. Blaine remains silent. I’m pleased to see his lips are white with fury.

I glance up as Blizzard is shoved into the room. The door slams shut behind him. He scowls around the room, sunk down in a defensive position.

“Blizzard,” I call. He whips his head around.

“Uh, Frost?” he stammers. I smile and move to fake greet my friend.

“I’ve missed you,” I say. He pulls me in for a hug and I whisper hurriedly, keeping my voice low. “Crystal is in my place. Don’t look at her. And I’m sorry, I meant to ask you first.” His eyebrows pinch at my words. He’ll understand them momentarily.

“Blizzard,” Jovan greets, voice hard. I glance at him and see he’s glaring at where my hand rests on Blizzard’s shoulder.

The pit fighter nods at Jovan as I drag the new Outer Ring’s representative to my empty seat. I place him there and lean against Blaine’s neighboring seat. He shuffles away to the other side and I don’t bother hiding my grin.

Jovan turns to me. “Frost, you’ve been chosen by the Outer Rings to bring their concerns and requests to me formally, and without violence,” he states.

“I have some stuff you may find interesting, but he’s the real one you wanna talk to about the bad things,” I jerk my thumb at Blizzard and he stiffens.

I continue. “This one’s right in the thick of it. Handing out food, all nice like. Helping out the orphans and the beat-up whores. He’s the one stopping the thugs from slitting old women’s gullets.” Jovan’s eye twitches before he musters the control to turn to my friend. Blizzard stares at me in shock. I watch as his eyes narrow in accusation. I shrug my apology at him for now. I’m going to owe him big. The silence grows painful as the advisors and Jovan wait for him to speak.

“Just ask him a question,” I say. “You’ll see.”

Jovan gives me a loaded look before facing Blizzard once more. “In your opinion, what are the main problems faced by my subjects in the Outer Rings?” Jovan asks.

Blizzard’s eyes show steel. “There are many, my King. Where do ya want me to start?”

I wait for the fighter to explode. He just needs the right provocation. Jovan’s eyes flash at his response. I catch myself leaning forward and tip my head back and close my eyes in bored Frost fashion.

“I do not think there can be that many,” Jovan growls.

I grin and open one eye to watch as Blizzard’s face turn white with rage. It then turns red, and lastly, it turns purple.

Then, he loses it.

*

Blizzard stabs the roast potato on his plate with too much force, bending the knife backwards as we all sit and gawk. I sneak a glance at Crystal sitting up at the throne table. Is that what I usually look like? Small and mysterious. I’d be afraid to approach someone looking like that too.

I hope Jovan and Olandon are looking after her. Probably just Jovan, judging by the scowl on my brother’s face. He’s not very happy with what I’m wearing. He’d nearly given me away when he first caught sight of the harness. The delegates present here tonight haven’t stopped laughing at him, entertained by my subterfuge and Olandon’s clear disapproval.

“Where’s Zona?” I ask.

Shard gives me a pointed look. “Oh,” I say, looking in Blaine’s direction.

A hard vegetable flies off Blizzard’s plate and disappears under a neighboring table. The occupants glare his way until he turns the full force of his scowl on them.

They find things to do.

“Blizzard,” I say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in that position. It’s been on my mind for a while after watching you with the sick and poor in the Outer Rings. But it should’ve been your decision.”

He’d been appointed the Minister of the People, a previously unheard of position. Jovan’s move was clever, bordering on genius, but I felt for my friend. The king hadn’t exactly given him a choice about it. I dip my head. “I apologize most sincerely.”