Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords #3)(77)

Just one peek.

Jovan grips the bottom of my veil and leans down to whisper in my ear.

“This is how it should be, Lina. You’ll see.”





Chapter Seventeen


I sit awkwardly in the uproar of the room. Papers litter the ground. Chairs lay upturned where they’ve been flung back to the wall as shouting men erupt out of their seats to argue their point. It’s one of those moments where you realize how much has changed.

I’ve just allowed the king of Glacium to show my face to a whole room full of his advisors.

At least five minutes have passed now. Even Jovan hasn’t been able to quiet them. Instead, he sits next to me, a wry half-smile on his face. Ashawn doesn’t bother to hide his grin, winking at me whenever I catch his eye. I don’t know how they can be so calm. My heart is threatening to beat out of my chest. Jak stands one meter from me, staring with his mouth open. It’s very disconcerting.

“The Tatuma is Frost!” I hear for the twentieth time. I hope this room is soundproofed.

“So the Tatuma’s dead?” someone asks. I sigh and lean my head back against the seat.

“What are you thinking?” Jovan asks.

I shrug one shoulder, folding my arms. “They handled civil war with less noise.” I feel the warmth of his breath as he chuckles softly. I glare at him. “And if you’re really asking whether I’m angry at you, I’m still deciding.”

Jovan accepts this with a nod.

“This is how you were able to bring the Outer Rings and assembly together to fight Blaine?” Roscoe asks. The volume ebbs at his questions.

“So you are the Tatuma?” Jak asks. He’s finally closed his mouth.

I raise an eyebrow. “Yes, Jak.”

“But … you have blue eyes!” Drummond splutters. His face is pale. I wonder if he’s going to faint.

“Yes,” I say. With another glare at the king, I leap into a quick version of the events of the last few sectors. It’s easier, now I’ve done it a couple of times. I tell them of my mother’s likely affair, how I ran to the Outer Rings and the Ire, and how I’ve managed to continue the facade since returning to the castle. They stare at me as I finish; that will teach me to want silence. I force my spine straight as they gawk.

“I have known of this from the beginning,” Jovan addresses them. I give him my own wry look. He made it sound a whole lot nicer than it was. The king ripped off my veil shortly after my arrival in the Third Sector. Most of the advisors have something to say about this, clearly angered by his secrecy. I can’t blame them. This is huge news. Some of the biggest in our collective history. The Tatuma is mixed? It changes everything—I know that best of all.

“Do all Solati women fight like you?” Ashawn asks.

“Those with the aptitude,” I answer. “We certainly do not rely so heavily on males on Osolis. Your own women could be fierce fighters if you allowed them.” That idea is quickly shot down. I content myself by thinking of the women training to fight in Alzona’s barracks.

“One thing at a time,” Jovan whispers in my ear. His smile blinds me when I glance up at him. For a second, my mind can’t seem to grasp how attractive I find the king of Glacium. The fatal feeling he causes baffles me. I quickly school my features. That’s all we need, for the advisors to notice the infatuation between us.

Jovan straightens and loses his smile. The king of Glacium is back. Menace creeps into the air around him, growing with every step as he pins each man in the room with his penetrating stare. He looks every advisor in the face for several moments. Obviously searching for something within each of them, though I’m not sure what. “Despite the bloodied history between Solati and Bruma, the Tatuma has done nothing but help this world since her arrival. Believe me when I say I have never met anyone more focused on doing what is right, rather than what is expected. This drive pushed her to the Outer Rings to search for my brother’s murderer.”

The familiar sense of failure stabs me.

“It compelled her to save those in the Dome at the risk of her own life.” He stalks around the meeting room. “One of those men she saved is to become my advisor. She has the ability to see potential in those around her, regardless of their station. She has the ability to see evil and deceit in men who breathe the same air as you and I. The Tatuma of Osolis has saved our world.”

“Jovan,” I say, cheeks warm from his praise. He doesn’t acknowledge my comment.

“The Tatuma is held high in my esteem. I trust her with my life and the life of my family.” He gestures at Ashawn. “We have done little to earn her trust. I want to show her what the word of a Bruma means. If news of her secret gets out, I will find who did it by any means possible,” he says with factual calm. “And that person will die a painful death.”

He turns and I gasp at the blazing vividness of his eyes.

“She will not be harmed,” he says.

*

“You’ve shown the advisors,” Olandon says at dinner. It only took him two minutes to discover the cause of the shift in dynamics. Likely because Drummond and Roscoe haven’t stopped staring at me since the meeting.

“I did,” I say.

“No she didn’t,” Jovan calls from two seats down. “I did.”