The Prince and Havis appear at the top, and I collide right into her.
There’s a moment of awkward nothing before the Prince says, “I saw you both from the window. God knows who else did.”
Aurelia goes a bit pale. “Does Mother know?”
“I told her you were out on Ivory. She’s been busy enough that she believes the story.”
“She’d like to see you now, though,” Havis says. “Shall we go to her parlour?”
Aurelia darkens beside me, the glorious little storm that Havis brings out. I’m fairly certain she knows this man views her as an apple. “I’m showing the Lieutenant to his quarters,” she says.
It’s a nice excuse, but also unhelpful, because it puts me into the “sporting” category again.
The look on the Prince’s face suggests the same. “I’ll show him the way. And you can go with the Ambassador to see Mother as you should.”
Yes, this is definitely an ambush.
Aurelia and I look at each other, a silent exchange of “Good luck,” then climb the stairs and pick our poison. She and Havis disappear one way, the Prince hurrying me off the other. A bit of fear finally quickens inside. We’re alone and hostility radiates from him like pulsing flak. I feel very unarmed.
“You’re having a pleasant stay?” he asks, once we’re alone.
“I am.”
He grunts, either approval or annoyance, and stops. I’m forced to do the same. “Your father as well?” he asks.
Blood careens to a halt in my veins. The truth finally spoken. But I yank my mask into place and we size each other up. Time to play by his rules.
“You’ll have to ask him that,” I reply casually.
He steps close. “I’m sure my mother would love to know the truth about you.”
He thinks she doesn’t know? Then he’s in over his head. “Perhaps.”
“Why are you showing such interest in my sister?”
“You can see her pretty face plain as me. Why do you think?”
He growls, breath hot on my face. “If you touch her, there will be hell to pay.”
“Then why don’t you tell her who I am?”
“Why don’t you?”
His question bites more than I’d like. I shove it aside. “I’m under direct orders not to reveal myself to anyone, under any circumstance. Things are tense in Thurn. And we’ve already had one member of our family made an unjust target.”
“Convenient,” he says.
“Necessary,” I say.
We’re still nose to nose in the empty hallway, tempers smoking.
But he starts walking again. I follow warily.
When we reach the entrance to our Safire floor, he gestures. “Here you are, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you. I don’t know how I’d have made it without the help.”
He gives a sour glare, then blanches.
I turn just in time to see Garrick disappear around a corner with a brunette on his lips.
The singing girl.
For a moment, the Prince looks ready to hunt them both down, the blackest kind of fury in his gaze, but I’m the only one within reach. The highest target there is. “Hell to pay,” he says, seizing my arm tight enough to leave another bruise, “do you understand?”
I nod and he departs. My heart continues stammering away. I don’t like being afraid of him, but he knows. He’s aware there’s a larger game afoot, and if he hasn’t told anyone else by now, then maybe he’s actually smart enough to know what moves to make. Damn him. I liked it better when he was an idiot. I don’t think he’ll rat me out to Aurelia. He’s too much like Kalt—hiding behind his pride, happy to have important secrets. But Havis? Sinora? I thought for sure they’d tell her. Now I wonder if they see the truth I’m beginning to see—that even if they told her who I was, my real name, she wouldn’t hate me. She has no reason to. In fact, she might even try to get closer, earnest in her interest, and they can’t afford that. She’d only ask too many questions. They can’t make her despise me without opening up a darker, hidden truth, and for all her noble talk about fate and acceptance, Aurelia’s got a fire that refuses to be written off. Maybe that’s why no one shares the things they should.
Or even the things they shouldn’t.
Guilt creeps into my throat again, dry and scratchy.
Murder.
Why did she have to tell me that?
AURELIA
When Havis and I reach Mother’s parlour, the sun has fully set and the halls are deepening to midnight blue in the low light. She’s posted guards outside her doors for the duration of the Safire visit, and they give us both a strange look, a touch nervous.
This makes me suspicious, and I turn to Havis. “Why does she want to see me?”
He blinks a moment, like he’s considering a lie, then tosses it aside. “She doesn’t. But I need you to call on her for me. She’s in meeting with the General and I dare not interrupt. For you, she’d be more forgiving.”
“No,” I say. “I won’t.”
“Then I’ll be sure to explain how I found the Lieutenant cornering you in an unseemly way. He might not wriggle out of that one as easily as he did spying.”
Fury burns away my reluctance. I knock on the door lightly, and nothing happens. Havis reaches over and raps on the wood with a fist. The guards nearly perspire.
“If she’s angry,” I say, “I’m blaming this on you.”
“She won’t be angry.”
Stars, how does he survive life with such smug conviction?
A maid-servant opens the door, peering at us like a twitching bird.
“The Princess needs to see her mother,” Havis says for me. “Now.”
She nods, overwhelmed by the blunt order, and allows me into the room. We cross the parlour to Mother’s private drawing room, but she hesitates with knuckles to the closed door, eyes on the Resyan rug beneath her feet, unwilling to proceed further.
I do the knocking myself.
After a long moment, it opens. Mother’s face quickly switches from annoyance to surprise. “Aurelia, what are you doing here?”
Behind her, General Dakar is seated at the small table, no sign of Uncle or Admiral Malek. It’s only the two of them and a half-eaten meal.
I swallow, a tremor of uncertainty rippling. “Ambassador Havis would like to speak with you.”
Agitation shadows her face, her hand on the knob of the door, but the General appears unhurried. “Go on, Your Majesty,” he says. “I’ll wait.”
Her eyes dance to me.
Dakar smiles. “And I’d enjoy a chance to become better acquainted with your daughter.”
Now my palms are sweating. The prospect of being two feet from the General of Savient, alone, is more than I bargained for.
Mother seems to feel the same way, shifting on her feet in hesitation, but she nods. “Very well. I’ll return shortly.”
The maid-servant hurries after her to open the main door, and I attempt to compose myself. My brain runs through a hasty checklist of politics not to be mentioned—Karkev, Thurn, the Nahir.
“Please, sit down,” he says, gesturing to the seat my mother abandoned. “Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I settle before him as he pours tea from the pot, an unexpected thing to see the General do, and I feel like a curious child pretending not to stare. His harsh face, littered with lines, speaks to a life lived on the edge of something awful, yet I can’t help but notice he might have been quite handsome once upon a time. There’s an elegance to his long nose and strong jaw.
He sets the pot down and studies me. I glance away.
“You look…,” he begins, then stops. “Well, you look like your mother, Princess.”
It’s an odd time for that observation, because I feel as far from Mother as a muddy stick from a star. I’m still covered in dust, hair a mess—and wearing pants, no less.
“Thank you,” I say, though.
“And we’ll have to make
plans for the air demonstration you requested.”
I glance into his face fully, now, out of surprise. “The air demonstration?”
“Of course. Your compliment the day we met isn’t forgotten. I wouldn’t wish to disappoint you.”
He sounds much kinder about it now than he did on the steps. Perhaps here, away from public view, he can afford to be more generous. “We’d be most honoured, General.”
“I’d offer one this week, but you can’t have a proper demonstration with only two planes. We’ll need to bring more.”
“I suppose so,” I say, though I really don’t know any better. Two planes would be exciting enough for me, and perhaps for most of Etania. And it would be particularly exciting if Athan Erelis were to be flying one of them.
He continues to watch me, hand resting on his cup.
“It’s truly wonderful of you to visit Etania,” I say. “We’re very grateful for your willingness. They say there’s no other place like Savient in all the world.”
He nods.
I want to go further, to fill the silence, but I only know about Savient from the papers—things about his aeroplanes and monstrous battleships and the fact his eldest son is said to be more ingenious than all the Landorian colonels combined. These things sound too formal and detached, things he certainly hears everywhere he goes. Things he’ll only nod at me about.
But since I now know Athan’s perspective of things, perhaps that’s the best place to start. “No one understands yet, General, but truly, I don’t think leadership can be learned only in a palace. You’ve been through such terrible things, and you bring the experience and wisdom that most of us long for.”
He raises a hand. “Princess, I’m not a man who enjoys flattery. I prefer honesty, from everyone.”
“Oh.” I pause. “Well, I did mean it. I believe you’ll settle the South and make the world a better place.” I swallow, awkwardly. “For us … and for them.”
I’m not sure exactly what I intend with the last point, but if others in Savient believe, as Athan does, that the people in Thurn are unhappy for good reason, then I’m willing to show my acknowledgment of it.
Interest flickers on his face, and he offers me a bowl of summer cherries.
“My favourite,” I say, taking one.
“I have those in my family who feel the same. My youngest son could eat them with every meal. And my daughter.” He smiles. “You remind me of her, in fact. Not in appearance, but you possess similar charm.”
“You have a daughter?”
“I have four children. Does this surprise you?”
“No,” I say, but it certainly does.
I only know of the brilliant eldest son, since he’s mentioned in the papers a lot—mostly for his battles, but also because he was photographed at the opera with the King of Landore’s most beautiful daughter. But what would Dakar’s girl be like? I picture her as tall, with perfect posture and no smile. Maybe handy with a gun. I wonder if she’s happy. She must be, to have such an impressive father at her side.
Then I remember the news from this spring.
“I’m sorry about your wife,” I say carefully. “It was tragic.”
His smile lessens. “It’s kind of you to offer your sympathies.”
“I hope you can bring her justice.”
“I will.”
It feels like I’ve taken a misstep, touched on something tender. I backpedal and say, “Your daughter’s very fortunate to have such a brave man for her father.”
He tilts his head. “Why do you say that?”
Here we go, treading feelings still fresh and new, but at least they’re honest and certainly he’ll appreciate that. “I loved my father, but he wasn’t a warrior,” I say, sifting through the thoughts I had on the way down the mountain. “That’s why he died.”
“You believe that?”
I bite my lip. This isn’t territory I should go into, yet it’s the truth, because I’m certain the General of Savient would never allow himself to be murdered. It would have happened by now. My father, however, didn’t think about such things. He painted pictures and ignored the whispers, as Mother said, and fate took him. I wish that thought wasn’t in my head, but it is.
People like my mother and the General don’t wait for fate.
They play a step ahead.
I’m silent and the General finally says, “I know nothing about the circumstances of your loss, but I do know that being a warrior isn’t what matters in the end. What matters is playing your cards better than the rest—and with the right side.” He leans closer, chair creaking. “Take that from one who’s spent his life cheating death.”
His face is still hard, all intense certainty—I’m not sure he knows how to look pleasant—but his words only affirm what Mother said to me in secret, and I’m beginning to see why the two of them get along well.
“Do you really intend on giving me an air demonstration, General?”
“I never lie, Princess.”
“Then might I make a request?”
He’s still leaning forward. “Whatever you’d like.”
“I’d love if you brought Lieutenant Erelis and Officer Hajari. Between you and me, I find them both quite charming. They’re good ambassadors for you. You might even give them a promotion.”
His brief smile appears. “Princess, promotions are given for acts of valour, not social graces.”
“I’m sure they’ll manage those too.”
“Indeed.” He appears satisfied. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Heels click on the parlour floor, coming near, and he leans back in his seat.
Mother appears in the doorway. “I apologize, General, for the delay.” She looks between us, expression clouding. “But it’s taken care of now.”
“Nothing to apologize for, Your Majesty,” he says.
And then he looks across at me, like we have an honest understanding.
* * *
The General leaves not long after, and Mother orders me into her bedroom the moment he’s gone. She closes the door firmly. “What did he talk about with you?” she asks. There’s new tension in her face, along her shoulders.
Havis has managed to ruin her day—or perhaps it was me.
“He told me about his daughter. He said I reminded him of her. And he offered me an air demonstration, but I doubt that will happen. I’m sure he’s too busy.”
“Hm.” She studies me a long moment, then strides to her vanity, searching for something. “He seemed in a good mood when he left.”
“And what did you talk about with him, Mother?”
I know it’s bold, but the General has that lingering effect.
She stops searching. “Me?”
The quick reply, almost off guard, makes me even more curious. I want to see what she’ll say. She’s the only person in Etania to entertain a private audience with the General—other than me now, apparently.
A strange look crosses her face, something I can’t read, and she says, “There were things that needed to be discussed away from the official record. Not every state agreement is meant for the papers.”
Stories upon stories that never appear in ink. It seems the world is full of them now.
“Is he pleased with us?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“And Ambassador Havis?”
“Ah, he’s requested a return to Resya on urgent family business.”
“He interrupted your meeting for that?”
Mother turns with a sharp look. “Mind yourself, Aurelia. His mother’s quite ill.” She runs a brush through her hair, tossing it over her shoulder. “It seems the General might have found new supporters in Classit and beyond,” she continues. “He wishes to tour the Heights and has requested that I accompany him. He’ll return in ten days to retrieve the rest of his contingent here.”
“You’re going with him?” I ask, stunned.
“To mediate the discussions. He needs a local ally. These small kingdoms are stil
l cautious about entering negotiations with a man such as him, and I’ve proven it can be done.”
“Then who will oversee things while you’re gone?”
She rarely leaves, and the idea of the palace without her is a bit frightening. She’s the gravity that keeps life in tune.
She allows a smile. “Have you such little faith in your brother?”
My eyes widen.
“Reni can manage ten days on his own. It’s time for him to assume these responsibilities.” She pauses. “Though you will let me know what business he entertains?”
The question, again, is so casual it almost blends to nothing, but it carries too much weight, something like betrayal. Like spying.
“I’ll try,” I say, “but he doesn’t let me anywhere near his business.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want him to feel mistrusted, yet…”
She doesn’t say it aloud, but she knows what Reni did to Athan, since Uncle was quick to pass it along as an amusing tale—the Prince putting the Safire in their place—and she admonished Reni strongly for it. She wasn’t happy. Now she draws me to her, pushing the windblown hair from my face, and I feel again like a muddy little stick.
“I trust you can be a welcoming host to the Safire while I’m gone?”
“Always,” I say.
“Soon things will be as they should. I’ve done an impressive thing bringing the General to our side, and everyone will see it in time. They’ll applaud me. They will.”
“They will,” I agree.
She has no choice but to be right.
ATHAN
At midnight, a fist sounds on the door.
I know before opening it I’ll find Garrick on the other side. I went looking for him earlier in the evening, suspicious, but Ollie was outside their room, telling me some story about Garrick being sick and how he couldn’t be disturbed, and that’s when I knew what was up.
Ollie’s a faithful wingman on the ground, too.
“Get dressed,” Garrick says, glaring at me when I open the door. “You’re on watch until dawn.”
Dark of the West (Glass Alliance) Page 21