Luther’s skin brushed against my cuts, soft and warm. He felt the rough scabs before he saw them. As soon as we touched, he looked down, eyes wide. 

Franco was standing behind me, and I prayed that he couldn’t see Luther’s shock. To distract the Duke, I turned around and gave him my best confident smile. Franco smiled back. 

Then, I nodded at King Luther and, emboldened by this successful first contact, I dared say, “There is much I have to tell you. I beg you not to let your surprise show.”

As we all took our places, waiting for King Hughes to come, Luther examined me, steely eyed, carefully considering what I had just said. I did my best to hold his gaze for what felt like an eternity, until the court intendant hit the cold ground with his staff. The noise echoed through the room, signalling King Hughes’ entrance. 

We turned towards the door behind his throne. The cavernous great hall was mostly empty, with the exception of Franco and I, Luther and Gallen, the court intendant, and a few of King Hughes’ advisors. 

I watched as King Hughes took his seat, his heavy velvet robe crumpling at his feet. There had always been an unnerving childishness about our king. Despite his salt and pepper hair, and the deep lines that a lifetime of responsibilities had carved along his cheeks, he remained youthful. I suspected that he was only a few years older than Franco. One minute he could be bad-tempered, and the next buoyant. As a result, the court was always buzzing with tension. 

“I thank you for coming all the way to our court,” Hughes started, as Luther and Gallen bowed to greet him. 

As was my habit, I stood a few steps in front of the throne, to the left of King Hughes. Franco, Thornland’s Secretary of State, sat on a simple stool next to him. 

King Hughes allowed a pause, and I translated what he had said into Shadowtongue. My mind was racing. I needed to find an opening, the right time to sneak in the words I had rehearsed in front of my mirror, my cry for help. 

“I am here to broker a truce,” Luther stated with poise. “The situation has gotten out of hand. We will not allow these pillages to continue.” 

As I continued my interpretation, I was once again reminded that what the demons were doing to Thornland, Thornland had reciprocated a hundredfold. Voke was as much our victim as we were theirs, despite what Franco wanted me to believe.

Once Luther was done stating Voke’s position on the pillages, the court intendant started enumerating the recent events, followed by the agreements Voke had breached over the past few months. There was my chance. Never would they realize that I was listing something else. Luther and Gallen didn’t need to reply to this monotony of information. This was purely designed to remind everyone present that the demons had misbehaved. 

I stood tall, forcing myself to ground my feet on the floor. My voice dropped a few octaves whenever I spoke Shadowtongue, and I hoped that the difference would prevent King Hughes and Duke Franco from hearing the tremble in my tone. 

“King Luther,” I started. “I stand before you today, pleading for your help.” 

Luther shifted his weight but remained impassive. 

“For over a decade now, I have been a prisoner of this man.” As I said that, I subtly tilted my head back in Franco’s direction. As predicted, my braid loosened, revealing my ragged hair. 

“Tatiana.” Franco rebuked me immediately. 

Without losing countenance, I glanced back at him, muttered a simple “sorry” and quickly tied my hair back up. King Hughes was too bored to even notice. 

When I turned to face Luther again, the look that flashed on his face made my gesture worth it: I could tell that he was moved. I mustered up the courage to continue. 

“I am half-demon and half-human.” I explained to Luther. “I was taken from Voke to Thornland when I was six years old, and raised by a human family to become an interpreter. They use me as a puppet, and I fear that if I don’t escape their grasp soon, I will die. You saw my arms, the abuse they inflicted on me...” 

I gasped. The court intendant was done listing Thornland’s grievances against Voke, but I had continued my plea to King Luther. 

For an excruciating pause, I feared that everyone had noticed that I wasn’t translating at all. But Luther’s voice rose above the silence, warm and steady. It was his turn to list the grievances Voke had against Thornland. I muffled a sigh of relief and mechanically translated his remarks to King Hughes. 

Suddenly, Luther slipped his answer into his speech, the same way I had done for him. For a quick beat, I stumbled in my interpretation. I flashed a look at Franco: he glared at me. I knew I was going to be in trouble, but I wasn’t sure he understood the extent of what was going on. 

“Tatiana.” Luther said, his voice calm. “I can’t ignore the distress you are displaying. You are a demon and as such, you have a place in my kingdom. But how can we trust someone who was raised amongst humans? How can we know this isn’t a ploy to sneak a spy into our capital?”

He was making a fair point, one that I had mulled over for several hours. The man that stood before me wouldn’t be swayed easily, I thought, but he was fair. 

Over the hour that the meeting between King Luther and King Hughes lasted, Luther and I continued to have our own, secret conversation. I informed him of my in-depth knowledge of Thornland’s politics, of the strategic documents I had stolen that prove Thornland is planning to attack Voke a year from now, of how I was begging for an opportunity to put it all in the service of Voke.

Eventually, the kings agreed on a truce regarding the pillages. Both sides were to stop harassing each other, lest they wanted the events to escalate to a war. Hughes stated a few words of politeness to close the meeting. King Luther still hadn’t given me his answer, and it was his turn to speak. 

“Gallen will meet you tomorrow at sunset, in the Ceres Grove, as you ask,” he agreed, all the while looking at King Hughes. “If you have the documents you mention, he will help you flee Thornland.” 

All the adrenaline of the previous days ebbed away, and I feared that I would collapse in front of everyone, relieved and exhausted. I suddenly saw in Luther’s eyes how feeble I must have looked, because his entire demeanor softened immediately. Still, I managed to pretend to translate Luther’s parting words to Hughes. 

After bowing to our king, Luther flashed a knowing glance towards me and exited. One more day until freedom. A faint smile curled the corners of my lips. I was overjoyed. 

But as soon as I crossed Franco’s cold glare, I knew my happiness would be short-lived. I was going to pay for my behavior.