“Please,” drawled Stickstoff, to more laughter from the court.
Sera’s heart sank. The Kargjord was a hilly, desolate barrens at the northernmost reaches of the Meerteufel’s realm. The rocks surrounding it were full of iron ore, which wreaked havoc with magic. It was cold, too. Little grew there, so finding food would be difficult. Supplies would have to be bought from the Meerteufel, and Sera knew they’d charge her dearly for them. She also knew it was the Kargjord or nothing.
Curtseying once again, she said, “I thank you, Guldemar, for the generosity and loyalty you have shown Miromara.”
Guldemar clapped loudly. Instantly, servants appeared carrying jugs and platters. As was goblin custom, the negotiations were concluded by pouring r?k?, a thick, frothy drink made from fermented snail slime, and passing goblin delicacies: sej, pickled squid eyes; smagfuld, blackened cod tongues; and spr?de, the wrinkled toes of drowned terragoggs.
Guldemar enlivened the celebrations by grabbing several pieces of jewelry out of a chest and making his courtiers fight for them. He thought it great fun to pit soldiers, ministers, even his wife and her ladies against each other.
Sera had no taste for bloodsport. She took her leave and motioned for her fighters to follow. Guldemar barely noticed. He was too busy applauding Nok, who’d just beaten Pelf’s wife silly over an emerald ring.
As the stateroom doors slammed behind them, Sera’s shoulders sagged with relief. She’d secured the troops and weapons she so desperately needed, and a safe haven, too. She would send word to her fighters who were still in Miromara to head for the Kargjord right away.
Today’s success marked a new phase in the resistance. With the goblin allies they would no longer be guerilla fighters, sabotaging the death riders’ barracks, raiding the treasury at night. They’d be a full-on military force.
“Nice work,” Yaz whispered to her, as they swam down the hallway to the palace rooms where they were staying. “You got what you wanted.”
Sera laughed joylessly. “Did I?” she said. “We’ve got twenty thousand troops now. And I have no idea how to feed them, or where to house them in that godsforsaken Kargjord.” She shook her head, wondering why every time she met one challenge, a bigger one took its place. “I don’t know how to do this, Yaz.”
Yazeed patted her on the back. “What else is new, Sera? You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
“I’d better,” Sera said tiredly. She shook her head. “Did I get enough troops? Enough weapons?” she wondered out loud. “My mother would have demanded more. She would have known how to handle Guldemar better. My mother—”
“—would be very proud of you,” Yazeed finished.
Sera nodded, a lump in her throat. “Thanks, Yaz,” she said, when she could speak again.
“Come on, merl. No time for tears,” Yaz said. “You’ve got to get out of that dress. And we’ve got to get out of this ugly-wrasse palace. It’s time to head to the Kargjord. We’ve got a war to win.”
LUCIA VOLNERO REGARDED herself in a mirror in her mother’s sitting room. A vitrina flitted into view within the mirror’s silvery depths. Lucia waved it away.
“I leave for Ondalina tomorrow,” Portia said, tucking a sheaf of kelp parchments into her bag. “The signs are fortuitous, Lucia. The gods are favoring us. My spies tell me that Kolfinn and his advisors are angry about Vallerio’s claim that Ondalina attacked Miromara—and worried. They fear we’ll attack in retaliation. Which is exactly what we want them to think.”
Lucia barely heard her. Foreign relations, espionage, military strategy—these were her parents’ concerns. She was fighting a different kind of battle—a battle for Mahdi’s heart. And beauty was the weapon she would use to win it.
She shook her head now, watching with satisfaction as her long, silky hair moved fetchingly about her shoulders. Her brows were perfectly arched. The shimmering gray shadow she’d chosen for her eyes emphasized their indigo depths. Her lips sparkled silver thanks to a dusting of ground mother-of-pearl. The dress she was wearing, also a deep gray, showed off her slender figure. A crown of diamonds graced her head. More diamonds sparkled at her ears and neck.
Lucia knew she would turn every head in the palace at dinner tonight. Just as she always did. So why was she nervous? Why was she worried? Why did the same agonizing doubts always crowd in upon her?
“Lucia? Are you listening? This is important. Pay attention,” Portia scolded. “Our accusation that Ondalina was behind the attacks on Cerulea is utter nonsense, of course, but Kolfinn doesn’t know that,” she continued. “We’ve put him on the defensive and made him eager for an alliance. Rylka, his own commodora, has seen to that for us. Hand me that bracelet, will you please? Lucia? Lucia!” Portia said impatiently. “Have you heard anything I’ve said?”