Surah, shockingly enough, could not fly. Malin could, albeit with great pain. He insisted on meeting Kausar in the compound for added support should they be walking into a trap of Geza or Mogren’s making. Surah argued that it showed good faith to simply come alone–Malin refused. Also, he made Surah agree to stay in the background, where she could easily run if trouble broke out.

“I can’t fly, but I can fight,” Surah said, voice edged.

Nikolau snorted as Malin replied. “How long has it been since you trained? And you’re weak as well? No. No fighting, Surah. You stay in the back near the exits or you don’t come.”

Early evening was when the Assembly met. It was not a full Assembly tonight, there being no new business on the docket. The hall was at the center of the compound, enclosed though the ceiling went up the entire height of the tower. Balconies circled the hall all the way up, accessible only by wings. Various nobles spoke in twos or threes, more still roaming the tiled floor, waiting for Geza, at the very end, to call order. The mood rippling through the gathered nobles was tense. There was no way for Malin’s presence to go unnoticed…it was one of the reasons why he stayed away from the palace, to avoid aggravating Geza with the stir the unseated Prince’s presence always caused.

Surah slipped away from Malin, preferring to remain in the shadows while the brothers spoke. She disagreed that the conversation should take place in public at all, but Malin thought the public spectacle of it would protect Surah from being accused of treason, or from further assaults. So she made her way slowly to the front of the room where the Ioveanu’s spoke, keeping to the wall, encountering only the occasional honor guard–a mix of males she’d trained with and males from Ciodaru’s reign.

“Lady Surah.”

She started, turning her head at the soft, feminine voice. A female stepped into her line of vision. Young, though no younger than Surah, wings dusted with powdery blue at the tips, an almost lavender cast to her smooth skin. Long hair in braids draped over her shoulder. Silk gown that bared shoulders and showed off silver jewelry. She was lovely, and watched Surah with calm honey-colored eyes.

“I’m Sililu Cernea. The betrothed of Prince Geza.” She paused, grimaced delicately. “The unwanted betrothed.”

Surah froze, staring at her. “Uhhh…Lady Sililu—”

She waved a hand, cutting Surah off. Sililu’s eyes snapped with fire for a split second before fading back to gentle neutrality. “I am well aware I am the last person you wish to speak with right now. But I think we should speak. Both of our futures are at stake.”

Sililu turned her head, looking at Malin and Geza. Surah followed her gaze, gritting her teeth. She could tell from the set of Malin’s shoulders and the narrowed look of Geza’s eyes that the conversation wasn’t going well.

“Oh.”

“Indeed. Come with me.” Quite unexpectedly, Sililu grabbed Surah's hand, dragging her away from the wall with a strength only a gargoyle female would possess–nothing to laugh at, though she looked nearly fragile.

When Surah saw where Sililu was headed, she nearly dug her heels in. But then her inner child wanted to see the expressions on Geza and Malin’s faces, so she decided to go along with it. Geza’s head snapped around when he saw who approached. Surah watched as her half-brother nearly took a step back, eyes trained on his betrothed.

Sililu bowed, not releasing Surah's hand. “Highness, I wanted permission to entertain Lady Surah in my chambers.” She paused, smiling sweetly. “We should get to know each other, don’t you think? We’ll soon be sisters, after all.”

Geza waved a hand, glancing at Surah. He must have seen some of his own panic reflected in Surah's eyes, because his lips twitched and he relaxed. “Of course, Lady Sililu. Lord Malin and I will be in conference for some time–my thanks for seeing to our sister.”

“She is not my sister,” Malin growled.

Geza smirked. “Whatever.”

* * *

She led Surah to the family wing. An honor for Sililu to be housed there, near Geza. The inside of her suite was decorated suitably for a female of high rank. Neutral tones with hints of feminine color here and there. Surah wasn’t all that interested in the decor, however–she wanted to know if there were any guards waiting to ambush her.

Sililu laughed. “Males. All the same, whether they love women or men.” She gestured and they sat on a cream-colored sofa. “I’m aware Geza does not wish to wed me. I’m also aware I’ve been, alternatively, offered to Lord Malin as a bride in return for my father’s support.”

Surah blinked. What happened to small talk?

“We don’t have time for pleasantries,” Sililu said, seeming to have read her mind. “My father will hear that I’m speaking with you, and will interfere.”

“What do you want?”

“I want nothing to do with the line of Ciodaru Ioveanu,” she replied, softly.

Surah stared at her. “What?”

Her mouth tightened. “Their females don’t fare well. Your mother Adagia. Ciodaru’s Consort. And I have no wish to bear children who may be…afflicted.”

Anger stirred. “Malin—”

She raised a hand. “I mean no offense. But it is every female's hope that her children are healthy and strong and able to fly the night skies.”

“So what do you want? For me to convince Malin to say no? Already with you.”

“No, that is not what I want. I want the alliance with Malin. But through you.”

“Excuse me?”

Her gaze was steady. “I will be your handmaiden, Lady Surah. I will bear a child from your mate, and the child will be both yours and mine. To be handmaiden to the former Prince and his consort is not a dishonor, and if I do this, I will have my freedom. I will belong to you and Prince Malin, and you will allow me to live my life as I please.”

Surah felt dizzy. Of all the scenarios she’d considered, this was not one of them. That a woman would be willing to enter that kind of arrangement in order to escape…it was an indictment on gargoyle culture, especially highborn gargoyle culture. Where women were still often, archaically, considered bargaining tools for their families. Though to be fair, young men were also considered tools.

“Lady Sililu.…”

Sililu stood, silk gown swishing as she began to pace. Her wings rustled, restless. “I’m tired of being a pawn,” she snapped. “I want some choice in whom I am to give my womb to. I’ve watched you over the years. You’re kind enough, and not obsessed with tradition or honor like the males are. I want a family, but I want to be free to pursue my own interests.”

“You don’t want love?” she asked softly.

Sililu stilled, looking down. “I don’t expect to find it. And to be part of a home where there is warmth–I think that will be enough. I would live with you and Lord Malin, bear the Heir the faction wants, and be your sister. I would not object to the love between you and the Prince.”

Surah was silent a long moment. She watched the gargoyle, saying nothing. She was assured of Malin’s love, and these kind of arrangements were not unheard of–it would be politically expedient. Her heart twisted. She didn’t want her lover and her brother to fight, she didn’t want Geza’s mistake to cost him his seat. Or his life.

“You could just leave your family,” Surah said. “You can live in the human world–you would have your freedom then.”

Sililu held her eyes. “You know that is a lie. I would be hunted down and the next male they offered me to, as wife, would not be as pleasant as your brother or lover.”

Surah stood, pacing back and forth. “Someone has to be the first. Lavinia—”

“Has forged independence by shedding her own family’s blood.”

Frustrated, she tugged her hair. “Those are rumors.” Sililu just smiled, though her eyes were grave.

“No, they aren’t.” She shocked Surah by lowering herself to her knees, gown spreading gracefully around her. “I beg you, princess. If I fail in this, my father will punish me. And the consequences for the Ioveanu’s will be serious, as well. My father is not one to take an offense without returning it threefold.”

For a moment she hated all gargoyles, and then common sense reasserted itself. There were problems in human culture as well. And even hating things with penises was foolish. Surah sighed. “I’ll have to speak with Malin. It's about more than Geza trying to get out of his responsibilities.”

“By all means. But hurry? Neither of us has much time to waste.”