I like, never write Ramora bits in first person, so enjoy.
If it never rained again I would be a happy woman.
Glowering at the grey drizzle that seemed infinite, I scrubbed harder at the wooden shaft with my nails, the dull red stains mocking my frustration with a permanence that was suffocating. Idiot. I cursed the lieutenant, and his whispering friend. Who used an arrow as a dagger anyway? Nevermind that it had been done, a testament to my rigorous standards, and a boon to the carpenter who carved each arrow by hand. I paid him handsomely to do it, that was sure.
This one had been through the rounds of the smiths’ apprentices twice now, and while I knew them to be tireless workers, no amount of determination was going to lift this stain, it seemed. Sighing in disgust, I fling the arrow into the fireplace, where it clatters against the marble of the hearth before immediately catching flame.
Matteo would simply owe me, a debt not payable by common means. However, that was a matter for times not pressed by an upcoming banquet.
Adoven Malgaer was en route, bringing with him a tentative ally from Emelle. Avanna had paled at the news of such an affiliation. No one had managed to get Emelle involved in talks of politics, and it had been only Lord Malgaer who’d convinced them to trade with the Dryadic ports.
‘If we come to agreement, it would be the first time in history that Emelian interests have joined with an Ealedorian cause.’
Or so the letter said. I didn’t care for writing. Writing lied, writing deceived. I was not a gullible sort, not now, after so long. The bow above my bed declared it, the calluses on my hands, the rigor with which I pursued the threats against Rhenia. I would decide for myself if this island ruler had any business with us, and if so, we would break bread. If not.. I turned the arrowhead over in my palm, the serrated edges scraping my skin.
We would see how this meeting went.
2087
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