I wave my hand. “I don’t care what they think of my questioning. I don’t give a damn what relations are like. They’re only here so Nemesia has access to the Velmaran archives.” As I aerstep away, I find myself questioning the truth of that statement. Do I care what the Velmarans think of me?

They’re seated at the dining table and startle when I appear. I hold a finger up to my mouth to tell them to be quiet. Gathering aether around me, I will the air to distort our voices just slightly so the guards outside the doors can’t make out our words.

Fionn stands, anger and fear in his eyes. “What the hell are you playing at, witch?” he hisses. “Why have we been arrested, or detained, or whatever the hell you call this?” I don’t flinch at the insult, not after three hundred years of those barbs, but it still stings.

Hawthorne puts his hand on Fionn’s shoulder, forcing him to sit. “What I think Fionn means, Your Majesty, is that we’re confused about what’s going on. Please, enlighten us.” Hawthorne looks at me, the smallest hint of uncertainty in his olive eyes. Silene also looks unsure, her bubbly aura dampened. I sigh.

“I’m sorry. I swear, this was not part of my plan. I didn’t expect Carex to take such quick action. I knew it was a possibility he would suspect you, but he’s been trying to grab more power on the Council as of late, and I believe this is somewhat political in nature. Though I cannot fault him for his actions or suspicions. He is, after all, correct about your involvement.”

“What happens now?” Hawthorne asks.

“I’ve convinced most of the Council that you’re innocent. They believe I’ve come here to question you. Meaning, torture you for information.” They visibly tense, so I quickly add, “Which is just a ruse, obviously.” I can’t help the small pang of disappointment that they so readily believed I had turned on them. But it doesn’t matter, because I will have to turn on them at some point, even if it’s not today.

Hawthorne smiles, always the one to project confidence for the others. “Then I guess we need to put on a bit of a show for those guards out there.”

They take about fifteen minutes to really trust that I don’t actually intend to torture them, but once they see it’s all for show, they lighten up. We spend another hour stifling our giggles as we make nonsense noises. Hawthorne, Fionn, and Silene moan in mock pain, and I say the most outrageous things I can think of in a firm voice, knowing the guards can’t hear the actual words we speak, just the tone.