Valka
The wolves terms for the truce was outrageous enough that I didn't need to break through Rafe's mind to know they weren't betting on the truce.
The round table was large enough to fit a party of thirty, the surface laid out flatly with delicacies and snacks of every kind but no one ate. No one drank. No one trusted the other enough to relax. No one trusted the unsheathed swords and arrows nocked in wait for whoever was foolish enough to trigger the violence brimming in the hall.
Our party was a smaller one, still. Valerian, Evadne, Trenton and me sit at one of the three pointed corners of the table. Lilith's away with Cyrus's captain of guard, looking amongst the imprisoned weapon's dealers to find who had traded one with her.
