Free Battle: The House War: Book Five by Michelle West

magic, mention it briefly.”
    “It’s the Common. There’s going to be trace amounts of magic everywhere.”
    His silence was both loud and dismissive.
    “The magi have been here. The Kings and the Queens will attend. If there’s anything the
Astari
missed in their sweep, I’m not going to find it while casually strolling by.”
    They do not see as you see.
    No. Most days, they see better
. It was going to be that kind of a day.
    * * *
    The banner went as far as the second tier of the dais erected in the center of the circular road. It was, to Jewel’s eyes, a marvel of almost instant architecture, and she could see the faint glow of magical protections and enforcements—at least that’s what she assumed the soft blend of orange and green meant. This was not the Hall of The Ten. While Terafin presence was considered a political necessity, the internal politics of the House were considered beneath external notice; there were four large chairs, two to either side of the banner’s pole. Jewel was clearly meant to take one, and it was not uncommon for a domicis to stand behind the occupied throne. There was—if they were careful, and honestly, how likely was that—room for Night and Snow at the foot of those chairs; if they weren’t careful, however, they were likely to hit the backs of the Kalakar chairs, which had been placed in front of House Terafin’s.
    The House Council had arrived, and they were congregated in a loose group; they appeared, as she approached, to be conversing—but it was the type of conversation in which little was actually said. They were waiting for Jewel, and conversation banked as she approached. Teller and Finch were there; so was Jarven. When she met his eyes, he raised a white brow and offered a smile that was slight and entirely without hesitation.
    She nodded in turn and moved on. “Gabriel.”
    “Terafin.”
    “Elonne, Marrick, join us.” She lifted her hands, signed an apology to Teller and Finch, wishing as she did that she could speak to them the way she could speak to the Winter King. She glanced once again at Jarven; he wasn’t watching her. He was watching Rymark and Haerrad. His expression was genial, friendly—but Jewel had quickly come to understand that that was Jarven’s version of Haval’s sudden, neutral mask. The realization also made completely clear that Haval dispensed with the pretense of facial expression as a courtesy to her, a signal that she focus her concentration and attention on his words, or the history that formed their context.
    That Jarven watched the two Council members she had chosen to leave on the ground wasn’t a surprise. Harraed and Rymark might consider the choice a slight; she’d bet on it. But she was also aware that they had abstained in the Council vote that had placed her in charge, and she couldn’t, at this point, slight Elonne or Marrick; as declared allies—if cautious ones—they deserved some acknowledgment. The House Council was not, by any means, settled. It might have been more stable if not for the assassination attempts; those attempts made clear that the assignation of the title alone was not enough to lay the war to rest. Best to show public appreciation for public support; those who were quiet might be moved to reconsider their silence.
    No call had yet been made for her resignation—but House history, which existed in the admittedly biased form of the journals of previous House rulers, made clear that resignation, in all but one isolated case, was a synonym for death. Death, on the other hand, had been tried. While it was possible Elonne was still in the hunt, Jewel doubted it. Jarven seemed to doubt it as well; although he’d briefly glanced at Elonne, his attention seemed reserved for Haerrad and Rymark.
    Jarven noticed that she was watching him, and winked. It was annoying.
    She could, of course, afford to slight Teller and Finch, the two people she would have chosen had she been able to make that choice