"I'm sorry. My area of expertise is only in commerce and business, not entry papers," he said.
"I know, and I thank you for your help so far. I'll let you know if I think of anything else."
We shook hands and exchanged parting wishes (me about his wife, he about my father) before he left my office, leaving me alone to meditate in silence. But my quiet was short-lived, as there was a soft knock on the door. Dixon poked his head in, and I beckoned him inside.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Collins, but my request has been denied. I've been trying all morning, but they aren't giving papers to enter in Herin to anyone from Kylae."
I'd assumed that would be the case, but combined with the news from Mendel this morning, it left a nervous tension in my stomach.
"Thank you, Dixon," I said with a terse nod. "I appreciate your diligence on this."
"Anything else I can help you with?"
"No. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"
The door to my office closed, and I spun in my chair, glaring at the city bathed in morning light. I hadn't slept well for a third night in a row, and I was starting to feel it in the base of my skull. More to the point, Herin's refusal to let me into their country boded poorly for our chances at peace. After all, as far as they knew, I was a private citizen. Entry into Herin and Jervan had always been allowed, if not heavily encouraged.
I stood and began to pace.
With their denial of my entry papers, it seemed to me that they were very clearly preparing for some action against Kylae. And that meant it was imperative that I find my way into the country before things escalated beyond salvaging.
I put my hands on my hips and considered all the doors closed to me in the past. I'd either opened them with my father's demanding nature or my mother's charms. Neither would serve me in this instance.
But there was a third option: using my extensive network of well-connected peers. My connections in Herin, however, were few and far between. Most of those I'd attended school with were Kylaen-born, remaining in Norose instead of finding their fortunes elsewhere. The wealthy, however, tended to stick together, no matter which country they ended up in.
I returned to my desk and found a small, leather-bound notebook with phone numbers and contact information from years gone by. There were hundreds of names in this book, many of whom I couldn't remember where or when I'd met. There was a chance I wouldn't be able to connect to them, or that these numbers were too old to still work, or that the people on the other end wouldn't be able to help at all.
But as I dialed the first number, I knew I had to try.
Rhys
I did not want to leave Kylae, but Kader and my mother convinced me it was a smart course of action. The airwaves were still dominated by images of Theo, breathless accountings of Galian's status, and calls for prayer. There hadn't been a true riot in over a day. Perhaps Mondra's political spin was working.
So, at first light, I boarded a Kylaen military plane and headed to my colony.
Although I knew every major city in Rave, I'd never set foot there. So, when I wasn't discussing strategy with Kader (whose wife had allowed him to accompany me on the promise that I'd jump in front of an attacker for him), I spent most of the flight with my nose pressed against the window, marveling at the geographic differences between Kylae and Rave. Even in the dead of summer, Kylae was still green and lush, dotted with cities and farmlands. Rave was brown, dusty, and what cities I saw were low and sparse. The airfield we landed in was near fifty years old, accentuated by a peeling Kylaen lion symbol on the hangar.
The Kylaen soldiers we met with were reverent, bowing to me and offering their condolences on my father. Strictly speaking, this was a classified mission, and based on the briefings I received on the way into Veres, it was probably safer for me to get in and out quickly.
"In fact, we really don't think you should've come at all." Colonel Ferenc was middle-aged, with a straw-colored mustache that barely moved as he spoke. He glanced to my left where Kader sat, and pure disdain dripped off him. "But your man here was insistent."
Kader bared his teeth in a warning smile, but I steered the conversation into talk of about the good colonel's supplies and other priorities.
As far as he knew, Rave was my final stop, so it behooved me to keep the conversation light on my plans. Kader and his team had arranged for me to fly all the way to Herin from Rave to have a private meeting with Prime Minister Bouckley. I was surprised at how quickly it had come together, but Kader assured me arranging the meeting would be the easy part. Bouckley was tough-as-nails, and my father had grievously offended her pride with his war declaration.
But before I left, I needed to put in an appearance with this idiot left in charge of Rave, even if it was only known to those soldiers I met along the way.
From the air, Rave had seemed brown and dried up, and it didn't look much better on the ground. Unlike Jervan, which preserved antiquities with the fervor of a collector, Rave seemed antiquated because they had no other choice.
I swallowed as we passed a large neighborhood that had been destroyed by fire. Kader's whole body tensed, and I knew this must've been the slums. My father had attacked this part of the capital city a week before to root out the Raven rebels, and in the process had killed one of our team, Sayuri Johar.
"What are we doing about this?" I asked Colonel Ferenc.
"Doing?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "What's to be done?"
"Rebuild it," I said. "Get the people food, water. Medical attention, if they need it."
"That's not our job."
I glared at him. "It is now."
"Sire, I don't think—"
"Are you disobeying a direct order from your king?" Kader asked.
"With all due respect, he's not king yet," Ferenc replied hotly. "He has no idea what we're doing here."
Olivia's words about respect being earned came back to me. "Then educate me. Write me a status report and send it over every day. I want to know how many Ravens you fed, clothed, and aided. Names and addresses." I smiled. "After all, I'm not yet king. I need intelligent officers such as yourself to guide me."
Ferenc said nothing, but I saw the distaste in the downturn of his mouth.
When the car stopped, I cleared my throat. "Get out of my car."
"W-what?"
"You heard me," I said, lifting my chin at him. "Get out of my car. I want to speak to Kader alone."
"But we're in the middle of the slums!" he said. "We're miles from any Kylaen airbase—"
"Then perhaps the Ravens will teach you something about helping a fellow man when he's down on his luck," I said, daring him to contradict me. "Get out. Prince's orders."
Even if Ferenc had wanted to argue, Kader straightened next to me, promising that if I couldn't convince him with a direct order, Kader would with brute force. So, with a whimper and a scowl, Ferenc left the car, and we continued driving toward the Raven presidential palace.
"That was pretty...king-like," Kader said after a moment.
"Grieg king-like or good king-like?"
"You king-like," he replied with a smile. "I think you're gonna do just fine, Rhys."
The Raven presidential palace was actually quite a sight to behold. Iron gates surrounded a large governmental complex; my history lessons had taught me that this whole area used to be military barracks and the provincial governor's mansion. The old trees certainly seemed ancient enough with large branches hanging over the paved road. A dry fountain sat in front of the pink-tinted house, with carved columns and other intricacies that seemed quite Kylaen in nature.
No guards stood at attention, but based on the number of Kylaen soldiers stationed around the perimeter, I suspected no one was really getting inside.
I stepped out of the car, gazing around the place I'd only seen in dated photos, and taking it all in.
"Well?" Kader asked, standing on the other side of the car.
"Let's go," I said, adjusting my jacket and climbing the st
airs.
Inside, the mansion seemed almost barren. Outlines could be seen on the walls where paintings used to hang. Upon closer inspection, one of the plaques remained underneath, telling the story of a Raven war hero.
"How long do you think Bayard waited after the announcement to gut the place?" I asked Kader, who snorted as he glanced up at the ceiling.
"Glad he's gone."
The memory of Gally's wedding came back and I forced down my disgust.
Like the rest of the compound, the mansion was empty. No guards, no aides. Nobody. I was starting to doubt if Cannon was even there, until we walked into the unguarded presidential suite and found him seated at the desk.
His head was in his hands, ignoring the stacks of papers around him and the two Kylaens who'd just walked into his office.
"Well, I knew things were bad," I said, breaking the silence.
He looked up, eyes widening, and then stood so fast he knocked his chair over.
"You! I mean, Your Highness, I mean—"
"Calm down. Don't wet yourself," I said with a snort.
His upper lip twitched, but remained impassive. "No one informed me you were coming, Your Highness."
"Who would?" I asked, glancing around. "Where's your staff?"
"Your father decided the Kylaens would be better stewards of our government," he said through clenched teeth.
"So why are you here?" I asked.
"Because...well..." Cannon slumped into his chair. "Because I suppose I'm in charge now." There was some familiarity in his shock, almost like looking in a mirror. "The country's in a tailspin. We've got people dying in the slums from the bombing. The Kylaens have taken over every airbase in the country, and our airmen don't have anywhere to go. There's a food shortage, blood shortage, and..." He shook his head then glared at me. "This is your country now. Fix it."
"Trust me, I've got my own problems," I said, removing a bag of food so I could sit down on the chair across from him. "What do you hear of your friends in Herin and Jervan?"
"Our friends?" Cannon snorted. "Refused to even take Bayard's call after that plane fiasco."
"You remember who you put in that plane, right?" I asked, eyeing him. "My sister-in-law."
Cannon swallowed, and shifted uncomfortably. There wasn't a response he could give that would redeem him in my eyes. However, my forgiveness wasn't what we were there to discuss.
"I'm not here to shoot the shit with you," I said, leaning back on the chair. "I'm headed to Herin to prevent them from invading us. You're simply a cover story."
"So you aren't going to help Rave?"
"How about I give her independence. Would that help you?"
"Oh, please God, no."
I turned to him; he stood, holding a stack of papers in his hands, his eyes wide with fear. "They'll...they'll tear me apart."
"Maybe that won't be so terrible," I said with a small shrug. "You are an asshole."
Kader coughed behind me, and I tempered my anger.
"Here's the thing: I'm giving Rave her independence as soon as both our countries are stable, so you'd better get used to the idea. My advice: start reaching out to the rebels. Offer them a seat at the table."
His jaw fell open. "You can't be serious. They killed Bayard! They'd sooner string me up in the town square than talk to me." He straightened. "And how could you possibly suggest that when Anson's the one who killed your father?"
"Because sometimes you have to hold your nose and deal with people you don't like in order to get anything accomplished. You can't win over the Ravens with brute force—trust me, we've been trying that for fifty years. You need to reach out to the factions, bring them together, and figure out a way to move forward peacefully."
"They never will."
"Well, then you'd better pick out your coffin," I said, turning to walk out the door.
"Wait! This is your country! You can't just...let us tear each other apart." He wrung his hands. "Send Kallistrate over here. She's a hero to these people. She could calm them down. She could lead them—"
"Unfortunately, Theo is unavailable right now." And if my brother never recovered, she might never be available again. "Besides, we've already asked enough of her and Galian. So it's on you. Invite them over for tea or something. Hash it out."
"I'm not letting them into Platcha. They'll take over. It'll be a coup!"
"First step in any relationship is trust, Cannon," I said. "Tell you what, tell them that if they agree to meet under a ceasefire, then Kylae will agree to give Rave its independence, plus unfettered aid. I'll pull out the military and leave behind..." My sleep-deprived brain came up with a brilliant, possibly idiotic idea. "I'll leave behind a peace-keeping force. But it won't be just Kylaens, it'll be Herinese and Jervanians too. We'll band together to help Rave get on her feet."
"But you said the Herinese..."
"Are trying to invade us, yes," I said, scratching my chin and glancing at Kader, who seemed similarly confused by my declaration. "But thanks to your media relations genius, Mondra, all the countries are talking about is Theo's speech on coming together. What if I posited to the Herinese that they should not only accept our help, but be one of the leaders in helping Rave rebuild?"
"And what's in it for Bouckley?" Kader asked.
"She'll be hailed as a hero," I said with a shrug. "Maybe I'll even get her a photo op with Theo. Bouckley's up for reelection next year, if memory serves. Would be a nice boost to her poll standings."
"She won't go for that," Kader replied. "You'll have to offer her something else."
"I'll think of something," I said with a wave of my hand. "In the meantime, you should get your ass in gear and make overtures to the rebels. I'll leave a letter to be delivered to whomever is in charge of his operation."
"They won't believe you. Kylae's lied—"
"My father lied," I corrected him with no shortage of heat. "I hope they'll give me a chance to prove I'm different. But you've got to earn their trust first. And by the look of things, Cannon, I don't think you've got any other options."
He shook his head. "I don't even know where to start."
"Take off your shirt. That seemed to win people over before," I said before walking out of the office.
SIX
Olivia
I was on the phone for nearly the entire afternoon before I found someone who might be able to help. One of my university friends had dated a boy, Andreu Brondini, who had a Herinese mother, and he'd returned to his mother's country to take a position in the ministry. I'd left a message with his secretary, but after half a day of waiting, my time was running short.
So, with a brashness I'd never had before, I purchased a ticket to Herin and prayed for the best.
When I'd first started working for my father, he often tell me I'd be judged severely, both because of my pretty face and because I'd had been born into my job. Since that day, he'd helped me take advantage of those assumptions to manipulate those who were inferior. But in all his instruction, he'd never prepared me for this sort of disdain—to be hated simply for the country I hailed from.
I felt it the moment I stepped off the plane: the looks of suspicion, the hurried whispering. At first I'd thought it was because they'd recognized me from the tabloids, until I heard the way they said "Kylaen." Truly, Grieg had done a great deal of damage to his country's reputation.
Which was how I came to be sitting in the customs office in Baro with my bag and a letter from the Kylaen prince stashed at my side. They'd interrogated me for several hours, asking me how I could've lost my entry papers. I'd faked a phone call to Dixon to ask him to locate them, all the while calling the friend-of-a-friend and hoping he'd get the message.
I checked my bag for the letter again, and, crossing my ankles, considered my options. There was something to be said for demanding an audience using an authoritative voice, but somehow, I sensed my executive-esque tactic might backfire in this case. Instead, the bright-eyed, sweet young lady would make her
appearance.
Whenever they decided to come back.
I checked my watch and pursed my lips. Two and a half hours I'd been here. Honestly, if I were a Kylaen spy, I wouldn't have been so overt about entering the country.
Finally, the door opened and a cherubic man stood in the doorway, eyeing me up and down. "Well, Nicholl did say you were quite the woman."
"Andreu." I stood and crossed the room, taking his hand gently and shaking it. "I'm very glad to meet you."
"And I'm very surprised you came all the way here without getting confirmation from me first. Pretty tough time to be a Kylaen in Herin." He scoffed. "Even a half-Kylaen like myself."
"That's why I had to come. I'm here to deliver a letter on behalf of Prince Rhys." I pulled out the letter with Rhys' wax seal on it. "This comes from His Highness himself. An apology and a request for a meeting with the Prime Minister."
Andreu took the letter from me and ran his thumb along the impression. "Shame what's happened over there. That poor girl. Do you know her?"
"Theo?" I shook my head. "I met her briefly at her engagement party."
"I just wonder why Galian chose her instead of you?" Andreu said, tapping the edge of the letter against his chin.
I blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"
"Well, it's just that you and he seemed quite the item for a long time." He grinned. "If you read the papers, that is."
"I would wager his affections for her grew when they were stranded on an island for two months together," I said, trying to keep the heat out of my voice. "Obviously, they are very much in love. If you read the papers."
"I pray for his speedy recovery," Andreu said with a solemn nod. "Maybe you and the king? That would be a match the Kylaen newspapers would go crazy for."
I plucked the envelope from his hand. "First, help me get an audience with someone who can deliver this letter to Prime Minister Bouckley, then we'll discuss my love life."
The Complete Madion War Trilogy Page 73