by C. L. Polk
I gazed into her eyes and felt the words battering to come out.
“I have to go,” I said, and crossed the bird-covered carpet to the door. I opened it and stood aside. “Thank you for your visit, but I’m going to be late.”
She nodded. “If you want me, you know where to find me.”
Avia walked past me and into reception, soft music from the pianochord weaving through the air. She exited on a glissando and looked back for one last glimpse before the door shut behind her.
NINE
The Strings on her Wrists
Avia’s article worked. Albert Jessup tried to argue, but after a comparison of a full-page advertisement from the month of Leafshed to current costs, the Elected Members in attendance rolled over and pushed my motion through. The meeting dissolved, leaving me and Severin in the chamber alone. He offered me a hand and I took it, rising from the Speaker’s seat with a tremble. We walked through the halls from the chamber of Parliament to my office at Severin’s usual, unhurried pace.
“You were marvelous,” Severin said. “They’re angry. But if you hadn’t skated around them, we’d still be there, listening to why price caps suppress competition.”
I folded my edition of the Star. “They didn’t even notice the bit about the smoke tax.”
“Jessup dominated that session.”
“Jessup dominates too many sessions,” I said. “Do you remember offering me lunch? I am utterly famished—”
The rest of my sentence died on my lips as we rounded the corner leading to my office.
Raymond Blake lowered the afternoon edition of the Star, staring directly at me. He inclined his head sharply, beckoning me over with the tilt of his chin as if I were a food server. Beside me, Severin stiffened, but I reached up to quell his ire by returning the shoulder-squeeze he’d given me.
“I think I’ll be ordering from catering for lunch after all, Your Highness. My apologies.”
I left the Prince behind me to greet my adversary with a smile.
Raymond tucked the newspaper under his arm and strolled through Government House’s chilly halls, careful to stay abreast of my stride. We turned corners, moving past the offices of the Elected to climb stairs framed by a four-panel depiction of the seasons in stained glass, our breath puffing out in front of us.
What could he want? He hadn’t originally waited outside the chambers because of the newspaper, though if he supported me in that regard I would fall down in a faint. He was here for some other reason.
It was Harriet’s turn at the pianochord, and she played a softly layered work that drifted like the snow falling outside the windows. This was the last gasp of the storm, a final reminder of our failure to protect Aeland. I stretched my awareness wide, checking the state of the Cauldron. No storm grew from its fury, but what about the polar front? When would they meet and clash again?
Ray sighed and shook my shoulder. “Grace.”
“Look at it, Ray. Just look.”
“I don’t have to,” he said. “It’s just the same in my garden. You can’t even see the hedge-follies.”
He saw a shroud over the landscape, the softening, anonymous layer. He saw snow. I saw the date, and all the days of winter to come. “It’s only Frostmonth. It’s not even halfway through Frostmonth.”
My voice broke. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. This snow cyclone was only the first. How long did we have before the Cauldron spit out another? A month? A week?
Ray slipped his arm around my shoulder, his voice gentle in my ear. “Grace, put yourself back together. We have a country to run, and we need to get started. Don’t crumble, now. We need you. You have to lead us. Do you want a drink?”
I forced myself back inside the walls encased by books bound in leather, tooled with gold. I took a deep breath tinged by the sweet aroma of resin-coated logs in the black iron fireplace. “I’m fine.”
I broke out of his grasp and crossed the cream carpet. I sorted past the tinctures and tonics in amberglass to the cut-crystal decanters of brandy, whiskey, and glauce. Raymond’s favorite. I put out two glasses, dropping honey balls into the bottom. “You had a reason to hunt me down in the Lower House, going five miles in the snow.”
“I did some organizing this morning,” Ray said. “You’re managing the weather and the everyday business of Aeland. With everything that’s happening, I realized you didn’t have a minute to yourself.”
“I have been at rather a run since my return.” Just an eyedropper of spring water to each, then the slightly green-tinged glauce, enough to cover the honey ball. I handed him the glass and sat in the chair opposite his. “What can I do for you, then?”
“I’m here as a service to you. I’ve had time to think.” Raymond sipped, and held the drink on his tongue. “I’ve organized a list of the best candidates for appointment to the Cabinet.”
Oh. Had he. “I’ll be interested in your suggestions.”
He smiled. “They’re not really suggestions, Grace.”
My head jerked up like it was on strings. His strings, winding around my limbs; he pulled them now, trying to teach me to dance. “Even without the usual scrutiny from the Lower House, the Queen selects from a list that has more than one choice for each position.”
“These are desperate times. The Lower House can’t fulfill all the functions of government. Without a Cabinet—”
No. I had to get free. “The timing is all wrong for this. I need to propose at least three names for each position. I’ll include your choices, but there are time-honored procedures we can’t just throw out.”
“You’ll have these names in the Queen’s hands by morning,” Raymond said, “and only these names.”
“I can’t do that, Ray. Be reasonable.”
His laugh was a single bark, loud as a duck gun blast. “Reasonable? I think you should look in a mirror. You want to interfere with the natural course of competition with a price cap, and march our progress back to gas?”
“Those are the least of the motions I would make. Have you any idea what the Jessup family is charging for necessities?”
Raymond shrugged. “It might be a tad unfair.”
A spot of heat bloomed on my scalp. “Oh, a tad.”
“But announcing this to the papers without a word to anyone? That’s your idea of a sound plan? Obviously we need to work more closely. I didn’t realize you were so impractical.” He swallowed the glauce, glass upturned as he waited for the honey ball to roll down into his mouth.
He had never intended to step aside for me. I was the most powerful Storm-Singer of them all, but he didn’t have respect for that status. He meant to hold all the power he could tie to his fingers. The Invisibles were his. He meant to possess the Cabinet, snatching away my opportunity to build alliances of my own and carve out my place at the peak. And he meant to own me, the one in the gaudiest robe, guiding the weather at his command.
He drew an envelope from an inside pocket and held it out. “Here are the Cabinet picks. We should get moving on this. The Lower House can only do so much.” He bit down on the honey ball, smacking his lips as it crunched. “Richard and I will see you at the reception, I’m sure.”
He left without another word.
I opened the envelope, the paper shaking in my hands. How dare he? He dared because he could, that’s how. I read the list and laid a hand over my stomach. Most of the choices were naked pork-barrel appointments. Some names were the sons or daughters of the last Cabinet members to hold the post. The others were friends of his, cousins from in-country, even Richard was on this list. It was the youngest Cabinet ever suggested, ignoring most of the elder members in favor of cronies and family.
The Queen would never agree to a pack of children running the government. If I gave her this list, I’d look like a complete fool. But if I didn’t, he’d set the Invisibles against me. I needed them ready to stand against the next storm. If they rebelled, everyone in Aeland would pay for it.
Two gentle taps on my of
fice door tugged at my attention.
“Come in.”
Janet opened the door all the way. “His Highness Prince Severin to see you, ma’am.”
Severin had waited? “I am delighted to receive him.”
Janet stood back, bowing her head as Severin entered my office. She closed the door behind her, and I pushed myself half out of my chair when Severin stopped me with a gesture.
“Don’t get up,” Severin said. “May I sit down?”
“Of course. I am sorry I abandoned you in the hall, Your Highness.”
Severin put on a smile. “I thought we were past ‘Your Highness.’”
“My apologies. Can I fix you a drink?”
“I can fetch it myself.” Prince Severin put his hand out for my glass. “It looks like you could use another. What did Sir Raymond want?”
I put the heavy-bottomed tumbler in Severin’s hand. “To be a nuisance and a bother, honestly.”
“Anything specific?” He stood at my selection and poured out another measure of glauce and the customary dropper of water for me, and some of my father’s whiskey for himself. He made himself comfortable in the chair Ray had occupied, eyeing the folded paper I still held in one hand.
“This,” I said. Ray’s list of candidates went back into the envelope. “The others were in the middle of electing Raymond to the post of the Voice when I showed up with Queen Constantina’s writ. He only appeared to take the defeat gracefully.”
The Prince swallowed the whiskey he’d sipped while listening. “And so he was here with his countermove.”
“Indeed. This is a list of his choices for Cabinet.” I tapped the envelope with one finger.
Severin paused, his glass lifted halfway to the armrest. “Does he have that much of a hold on you?”
I laughed. Once, the noise sharp and bitter. “You know we were to be married.”
Severin nodded. “Did he come to renew the engagement?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Severin settled more comfortably in the chair. “Then I’ve interrupted your explanation. My apologies.”
“Father arranged it. An alliance with the Blakes meant a significant number of votes in the Cabinet, as his father’s coalition would cooperate with my father’s. But he was even more popular among his peers—who are now the ones in positions of power.”
“And his coalition is larger than yours.”
“My coalition is nonexistent,” I corrected. “I’m Voice because he withdrew his claim and supported mine. But I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.”
“You can’t bow to his demands, of course. What are you going to do?”
“Well. Marrying him is out of the question.” I chuckled. It tasted bitter.
Severin scowled. “Would you want to?”
“Solace, no. It was a political arrangement.”
Severin nodded, the furrows in his brow smoothing. “I’d hate to see you have to resort to such a measure.”
“There’s nothing in it for him,” I grumbled. “Nothing but money, anyway.”
“People have married for less.”
That was certainly true. I had no illusions about marriage—the Hundred Families didn’t concern themselves over such trivia as love. But in a way, Prince Severin had it worse. Hobbled by the need to secure his mother’s royal approval, Severin’s parade of beautiful women were little more than youthful romances. And honestly, Severin was on the near side of forty—past the age where he should be sitting down with a matchmaker who would present him with a collection of the daughters of the landed, to select a woman of suitable relative distance to court and marry. He should have done it years ago. Much longer, and Severin would go from charming to irresponsible.
I stirred from my thoughts and gave Severin an apologetic smile. “My mind wandered. Perhaps we should talk about what you need.”
“Two things,” Severin said, swirling the last sip of whiskey around the bottom of his glass. “Mother wants to know why you have a Laneeri diplomat sequestered in your suite.”
“Oh, that. We’re humoring her so she’ll tell us what she knows about the Laneeri possession plot. She’s young and a tiny bit grandiose, and Miles thinks flattery will be more effective than fear.” I glanced at my glass. Tiny ribbons of honey dissolved into the glauce, and I swirled them away. “I wanted to speak to you about Sevitii an Vaavut, actually.”
Severin grew thoughtful. “Is she royal?”
“Ninth in line to the throne,” I confirmed. “She says she knows how the possession plot started, but she won’t tell us unless we guarantee Laneer’s independence.”
Severin looked up at the ceiling as if he were actually considering it.
I had a sip of my glauce. Sweet enough to cover the powerful kick of the liquor, now. “There’s no way the Queen would agree.”
“No,” Severin said. “But I wonder what the Amaranthine delegates would think if we showed Laneer mercy. It’s a compromise point—and it might be a good one.”
He frowned into his whiskey, and my glass hovered a few inches from my lips. “You’re seriously considering it.”
“Yes,” Severin said. “If it’ll save our skins, I’ll let Laneer go free.”
“Will the Queen?”
Severin glanced in the direction of my office’s reception, listening to a snatch of music from the pianochord. “I think she would be difficult to convince.”
What did he mean to do to her? I was to stand ready until he needed me, but I had no idea what his plans were. “Well then. I’ll tell Miles. What’s the other thing?”
“A simple message,” Severin said. “Your father wants to see you.”
I tossed back the last swallow of glauce, catching the honey ball on my tongue. “Do you know why?”
That was the most diplomatic thing I could imagine saying. Severin leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I think he wanted to talk to you about the price cap proposal in today’s Star.”
I didn’t have time for my father and his opinions. “I suppose I had better make the trip,” I said. “Is there anything else I can do, before I go see him?”
The lines on Severin’s face shifted as he took in the breath that prefaces speech. But he closed his mouth, snatching back whatever he was going to say. “I wish you success in dealing with Raymond. If I can be of any assistance, please tell me.”
“Thank you,” I said.
We pushed out of the deep, too-comfortable seats and left the office together. But where Severin’s path took him into the Amaranthine wing, I pushed on to Kingsgrave Prison, determined to get this summons over with.
* * *
There were a hundred other things I could be doing instead of climbing the steps to the highest cell in the Tower of Sighs, but up I trudged past the Laneeri in their cells, now furnished with plain blankets and thin pillows. Wool socks and fingerless gloves looked strange next to their filmy, layered robes and elaborate gold jewelry. Their head priest Niikanis wore a much-mended sweater over his brightly dyed silk tunic, his gossamer shawl draped over the knitting.
It wasn’t the best Aeland had to offer, but they wouldn’t freeze to death. I climbed past the luxury-stuffed cells of the First Ring, my thighs burning from the effort. Father’s coughs echoed down the stairs. I emerged as he drank a tonic straight from the bottle with trembling hands.
The ghost of a Laneeri soldier drifted into the cell. He glared at us, but I didn’t care about the hate of a being who couldn’t do anything to me. I stood before the copper-plated bars, arms folded while I waited for the coughing to subside.
“I’m quite busy, Father. What do you want?”
He dropped a blood-spattered hemp handkerchief in the basket at the foot of his bed and leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath.
“You should be in bed.”
“It’s not that bad.” His suit jacket hung off his shoulders, and the collar of his shirt gapped away from his neck. “The storm overwhelmed you.”
/> “You called me up here for that?”
“No.” He shifted then, flicking a glance at my portrait, over the softly curved shapes of my hands painted at rest—I unclenched my clasped fingers before he looked back, the furrow between his eyes just a little deeper, just a little sharper as he lifted his chin and said, “Did I raise a fool, Fiona Grace?”
“You know very well that you did not.”
“Then explain this.” He turned back to his table, lowering himself into the spring-padded chair. Father stabbed his index finger into a folded copy of the afternoon edition of the Star. “You formed a specific alliance with a member of the press? And with Avia Jessup, no less? She’s a flighty dabbler out to poke her father in the eye. I don’t know what possessed you.”
“It worked. I succeeded. The price caps will go through, and everyone in Kingston knows it was my idea.”
“And now you owe a journalist a favor,” Father said. “And these kinds of favors put demands on you that you can’t afford to honor. What if she starts asking you too many questions about aether? Did you think about this at all?”
She had been asking too many questions even before I enlisted her help, but if I told Father that, he might have a paroxysm. And if he knew that she had offered to hold my secrets in confidence? “I made the decision I saw fit to make.”
“I need you to be capable of the work put before you, Grace. The Hensley name—”
I hadn’t climbed a hundred and eighty steps for this. “Aeland is facing a crisis neither you nor Grandpa Miles even had to imagine—and it’s your mess I’m cleaning up, Father! Everything we’re going through can be laid at your feet. It all comes back to aether—all of it.”
“Destroying the network has brought Aeland to its knees—”
“Destroying the network was the only thing that stayed the Amaranthines’ wrath! And even that might not be enough to save us. You know what judgment Aife is weighing, Father. I cannot be distracted by you summoning me up here to scrutinize my every decision.”
“Then make better decisions,” Father growled.
“I don’t have time for this.” I whirled away, pacing the tiny space before Father’s cell. “Raymond tried to make a play for control of the Invisibles. I need to finish him. The Laneeri Miles and I are questioning wants Laneer’s independence restored before she tells us who was behind their attempt at revenge. I still haven’t reported to the Queen—instead, I’m up here, bickering with you.”