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They didn't call it a hostage exchange. But that's what it undoubtedly was. Everyone knew it, especially the hostages.
Not that they were being called that. But that's still how Wylan caught himself thinking of himself during the hours leading up to the banquet.
" Relax little petel." Nina says from where she'd thrown herself on his bed without invitation.
Wylan concentrates on buttoning up his coat and not responding to her. Because if he talked, he knew the walls he'd built up would collapse and he'd start crying. That would be so embarrassing.
Still his hands shook.
The clothes their people favored were loose and flowy, and always so comfortable. Intended for the eternal spring-summer-autumn of the main areas of the court. There were areas on the edges of the realm where snow fell, but Wylan had never ventured there.
But up in what some would call "the real world" and what Wylan called "the not-safe place where I never wanted to go" it was currently winter, and he would get strange looks for wearing the clothes of the fae. So he'd been brought confusing clothes that would keep him warm and help blend in.
If only he could figure out how they worked.
"Do you need some help there?" Nina says.
He bristles at the question. A yes or no question, considered impolite among the people who could not lie. There was no twisting your way subtly around truly answering this, not that Wylan had ever been particularly good at that game. A sign Nina had been spending a lot of time in the realm of the mortal.
Not as much time as I will soon be, he thinks, then banishes the thought. Or tries, at least. "Yes."
For once his friend is quiet as she teaches him how to do up the long green overcoat he'd been given, and the matching converse shoes. He'd at least figured out the strange blue pants, which Nina inform him are called jeans. They're apparently pretty popular.
When it's done, Wylan tries to pull away but Nina grips his shoulders with unexpected strength.
"Wylan. Listen to me. I am so very sorry that this is happening to you, and you know that if it were possible, I would have switched out names in a heartbeat."
Switch their names, meaning her name drawn first from the basket that awful day of the raffle, and his second. So that she would go to the above world to live amongst the Shadowhunter's as a sign of peace and he would stay here and be in charge of the warrior the fae court was receiving in kind.
"But no magic I possess can make that possible," She continues, "and so I will help you best I can. I know you never wanted to venture to the mortal world, have no interests that are not here, but I have. I know people who can help you if you need it and can't get in contact with me."
That wasn't one of the rules laid down in negotiations, but it was implied. Once Wylan left he would not be able to return home without Shadowhunter permission until the treaty ended in five mortal years. All the stories he'd heard told him that outcome was not very likely.
"You're headed to New York City. The leader of the vampire clan there is Inej Ghafa. She's good people. And the warlock known as Dirtyhands. He's great too, if a bit prickly. You can trust them, but no others. Especially not any of the angel children. You understand?"
There's a desperate note in her normally carefree voice that has him nodding. "Don't trust anyone but Inej the vampire and uh. Dirtyhands."
"Kaz, really. Don't call him Dirtyhands to his face. I'll try and visit if I can."
Bells ring far off, signaling the banquet about to begin. Nina relaxes and smiles as if nothing at all was ever wrong. "That's our cue."
The place where the feast was to take place was a clearing in the woods. Or perhaps it was a room. Matthias could not tell the difference at this point. So far all the Seelie lands seemed to be a confusing mix of outside and inside.
The table where they were led was longer than any he'd ever seen, made of a hard dark wood under the twisting vines and flowers that might or might not be in vases. Matthias was surprised it hadn't yet collapsed under the weight of the multitude of plates and platters and cups. Under the weight of the sheer amount of food set out.
The king's court is already assembled when they arrive. Their guide bows to the head of the table, where the newly crowned Nikolai Lantsov sat, then disappears into the trees around the table once his king nods in dismissal.
Then Lantsov turns his attention to them, spreading his arms and smiling. "Shadowhunter's, welcome to my realm and to the feast arranged in honor of our new deal. Ten of you came here today, and ten will leave in your party."
But not the same ten, Matthias thinks. Not exactly.
The fae sit on the king's right, and the Shadowhunter's are directed to sit on his left. To his Majesty's immediate left Jarl Brum sits as their leader, Matthias next to him.
Across from him sits a male. Not a man, definitely, though he could pass as a human man dressed as he is in mundane clothes. The point of his ears and the fluid way he lifts his glass to him mouth give him away.
The other hostage, presumably. He's the only fae dressed in clothes not appropriate for the warmth of the lands. And he's obviously frightened, hand shaking as he sets back down the cup.
A trick, to put you at ease. Brum's voice echoes in his head. Not his real voice of course because that would be magic. Just the memory of his voice, his lectures the past few months as Matthias prepared for this post. They will all look young and nonthreatening but these creatures are worse than the demon's we hunt. Demon's at least do not deceive you, do not live to twist and trick.
The conversation is stilted, only Brum taking to the king, and the Shadowhunter's sitting still and quiet as instructed. The fae talk amongst themselves in hushed whispers and looks and nods. The wind sighs through the branches of trees, and the wind chimes sing. Birds cry far off.
Finally the food is consumed, mostly by the fae. Matthias and his companions pick at the feast and eat very little, drink even less. Brum gives a speech about cooperation and peace, but anyone who knows him can see right through his fake smile.
Anyone who knows him doesn't have to see through his smile to know that Brum believes nothing of what he's saying, and that he had objected to this alliance from the beginning, but had been overruled.
Even the Inquisitor could not fight the majority of the Clave and the Consol forever.
After Brum, the king stands and gives his own speech, thanking the fae hostage for his sacrifice. Matthias learns two things from this speech.
The other hostage's name is Wylan, and Lantsov is the most talented person when it comes to lying but not really lying Matthias has ever met. Not that he's met many non Shadowhunter people, and Shadowhunter's were very upfront people in general. But still. It's impressive.
The king smiles through the whole thing, including the send off. He sounds happy to make this alliance and not like it's a power play to secure his place on the throne and keep his people happy and ease their fears of war with the Shadowhunter's.
Nine Shadowhunter's and one Seelie courtier follow the guide (who reappears from the foliage) back to the mortal world. Matthias stays seated.
"Well, Matthias Helavar, I hope you enjoy your time here. Welcome to the Seelie Court." With these words, a smile, wink, and dramatic sweep of his long cloak and the king is gone. He disappears into the woods with his guards trailing behind.