"And then it ends," he said.
"And then it ends," she said.
He opened his eyes.
Looked at her.
Covered her hand with his.
"You have to co back," he said.
"Always," she said.
***
Vessa drafted the response that evening.
Formal. Precise. The language of soone who had spent years learning to use the Conclave’s own systems against it.
Accepted. Two representatives. Nad date and location per the charter provision.
Eve signed it.
Damian signed it.
And they sent it back through the courier.
***
She found Silas in the library.
He was at the table with the folder.....not reading it. Just sitting with it. His hand flat on the cover.
He looked up when she ca in.
She sat across from him.
They looked at each other.
"You’re afraid," he said.
Not asking. Stating.
"Yes," she said.
"Good," he said.
She looked at him.
"Not afraid ans you’re not taking it seriously," he said. "Afraid and going anyway is the right combination." He paused. "It’s always been the right combination with you."
She held his gaze.
"What if he says sothing I’m not ready for," she said.
"Then you’ll handle it," he said. "The way you’ve handled everything else." He paused. "You’re not the woman who walked into that Court three months ago anymore."
"No," she said.
"That woman was capable," he said. "You’re sothing else now." He held her gaze. "You know what you are. You know what you’re doing. And you know why." He paused. "That’s not nothing."
She looked at the folder under his hand.
"He signed it," she said. Quietly. Just the two of them. "My na. Before I was born."
"Yes," Silas said.
"And I’m going to sit across from him anyway."
"Yes," Silas said.
"Does that make ...."
"Strong," Silas said. Before she could finish. Flat. Certain. "It makes you strong." He held her gaze. "Don’t let anyone tell you different. Don’t let him tell you different."
She held the words.
Reached across the table.
He took her hand.
Held it.
The library was quiet around them. The old books. The high shelves. The lamp doing its low steady work.
"I’ll be here," he said. "When you get back."
"I know," she said.
"I’m always here," he said.
"I know Silas," she said. "That’s the thing I count on most."
He looked at her.
She squeezed his hand.
Let go.
Stood up.
"Get so sleep," she said.
"You too," he said.
She almost smiled, she walked out and went to find Damian.
***
He was already in bed when she got to his room.
Not asleep. On his back looking at the ceiling.
She got in beside him.
He turned toward her imdiately.
His arm ca around her. Her face against his chest. The warmth of him.....the specific Damian warmth that was different from Damon’s and different from Silas’s.
"Tell you’re ready," he said.
"I’m ready," she said.
"Tell again."
She tilted her head up.
Looked at him.
"I’m ready Damian," she said. "I’ve been ready since the archive table at two in the morning." She held his gaze. "This is just the last room."
He looked at her.
His hand in her hair.
"The last room," he said.
"And then it’s done," she said. "And we figure out what cos after."
He held her gaze for a long mont.
Then he pulled her back in.
She put her face against his chest.
Felt his heartbeat.
Steady. Even. The heartbeat of a man who had been carrying the Blackwood na since he was nineteen and had never once put it down.
"Sleep," he said.
"Working on it," she said.
Eventually sleep took over and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
Outside the estate was quiet.
The last room was waiting.
And she was ready for it.
*****
THE LAST ROOM
Eve’s POV
The arbitration chamber was in the east wing of the Conclave building, down a corridor Eve had never walked before. The walls were older here, the stone darker, the air colder in a way that had nothing to do with temperature. Damian walked beside her, his hand not touching hers but close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the steady presence that had beco as necessary as breathing.
They reached the door and stopped. Heavy wood. No markings. No plaques. Just a door that had stood in this hallway for longer than Eve had been alive and would stand here long after she was gone.
Damian looked at her.
She nodded.
He opened the door.
The room was smaller than she expected. Round table in the center. Four chairs. Two candles burning low on opposite ends of the table. No windows. No decorations. Nothing except the table and the chairs and the man sitting in one of them.
Malachai looked older.
Not physically....he was the sa man she had seen at the hearings, at the archive table, across every formal space they had shared. But sothing in his posture had changed. The weight he carried was visible now in a way it had not been before. He sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him, his shoulders straight but not rigid, his face calm but not perford.
He looked up when they entered.
His eyes went to Eve first, held there for a long mont, then moved to Damian.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
His voice was quieter than she rembered. Still controlled. Still precise. But the sharpness was gone. The thing underneath the control was different now.
Eve crossed to the table and sat down across from him. Damian took the chair beside her, his presence a wall between her and everything else in the room. The door closed behind them with a soft click and the sound echoed in the small space like a gunshot.
Malachai looked at Eve.
"I am not going to contest anything," he said.
The words landed in the silence and stayed there.
Eve held his gaze and said nothing.
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