Chapter 67: A Throne of Ash, A Table of Spite
While Corvin continued to wreak devastation across the blood scorched wastes of Nefrath, bringing ruin to the Archdemon of Wrath’s domain, far to the northeast, past the edges of the Shatterwake Gulf, beyond the ever churning mists of the Veilborn Expanse, and nestled at the southern edge of the human continent of Argyll an entirely different storm was brewing. Not one of flame or lightning, but one of elven indignation and pent up fury.
Valyne was fuming.
Storming down the eastern corridor of Raven’s Nest Castle, her silver trimmed robe flaring behind her like a banner of frustration, she was muttering a mix of curses, grievances, and threats that would make a Voidborn blush. She’d had enough. This whole diplomatic babysitting assignment had gone from mildly irritating to insultingly absurd. Somehow, through no formal process whatsoever, she had become the acting liaison to both the Synod and Aurelian emissaries because, of course, the feather headed Duke was no where to be found.
She gritted her teeth. "If he doesn’t return by tomorrow, I swear I’m holding a summit in my nightgown just to spite him. And I’ll borrow the red one."
A raven on a high perch tilted its glossy black head. With a silent pulse, the bird relayed her exact words across leagues of space and silence.
Far away, amid the ash stained cliffs of Nefrath, Corvin received the message with a raised brow and a smirk that could fracture the composure of highborn matrons. With the ease of a thought, he commanded one of his covenant bound maids to deliver a reply.
Back at Raven’s Nest, just as Valyne reached the door to her room, sanctuary, sanity, and hopefully wine. A maid appeared in her path. With a bow and an unreadable smile, she said, "Master will not be able to return tomorrow, Magistra. However, he asks you kindly to remember your promise and keep it for the private lessons on Space magic. He will be most delighted to see and comment how the red nightgown will look, on or off you."
Valyne froze.
Then blinked.
Then blinked again.
Her ears went red first, then her cheeks, and she spun around so fast her braid whipped her own face. She marched into her room with the posture of a general, closed the door with ominous calm, and then hurled herself onto the bed like a felled tree.
"WHY. WHY. WHY does he hear everything?!"