His fingers bite my arm. “Why? So you can warn your new girlfriend?” Before I can protest, he hits me on the head. Hard. Like the day of Mother’s murder, when I didn’t even realize we were under attack. “You idiot! Don’t you see what’s happening here? Father wants to do this the slow way. He cares what these royal bastards in Landore think. But if we’re going to do it, then to hell with the rules. We don’t have time. Sinora has a gun at our heads and we have one at hers. It’s only a question of who shoots first.” He shoves me away. “It will be us.”
The Impressive blasts her horn, and the people on shore cheer, delighted by the prospect of vengeance in Thurn.
Arrin gives me a mocking salute. “Goodbye, Lieutenant. Watch your neck down there.”
With that, he’s across the dock and over the ropes.
The dark thing gnaws at my stomach hard. Suddenly, I don’t want to get on this damn ship, not with Arrin left here to plot behind my back. I don’t trust him. He’s no longer the pragmatist from the council room, though I knew that had to be a sham. Arrin is Arrin. He either thinks too much or doesn’t think at all. He’ll never see that Ali is innocent in this.
The dock moves beneath my feet, and I shut my eyes, feeling the shift and creak and stir of the world around me. Waves. Ships. Wind.
“Ready, Lieutenant?”
Father’s voice.
My eyes open, and he’s striding near, boots heavy on the wood.
“Yes, sir.”
He stops, giving me the usual quick scrutiny. Checking for hidden messages. “Now that you’re in service, you’ll be earning your own pay. Don’t be like Arrin and spend it in one place.”
“No, sir.” It’s not like I even go out most nights.
“And you always be ready to fight, even in Havenspur. Anytime I’ve been told a sector is quiet, it soon enough becomes hell on earth. You remember that. You always be ready to fight.”
I nod.
He looks up at Kalt and Folco, still on the deck. His eyes narrow, dissecting them. “And watch those two. Kalt will be stationed nearby. I want a report on what you find.”
“Find?”
He turns. “Goodbye, son.”
I swallow, unsure what I’m supposed to be reporting. “Goodbye, sir.”
I feel like there’s more to say, but he’s already turned away. What would I have said? I never know. A hundred voices circle around, and suddenly all I want is to turn and hightail it for the mountains. One last shot at freedom.
“You waiting for the footman?”
Cyar’s question snaps me back. He’s by the gangplank.
“I think that’s you, Officer Hajari.” I pretend to toss my bag at him. “Why else would I keep you as my right hand?”
He smiles and says, “For the cherries,” then nods at the ship. “Let’s go. Before we both have second thoughts.”
Gripping the rails, we walk the creaky ramp, and the Pursuit groans deep within, the water below churning to furious life.
25
AURELIA
Hathene, Etania
The days following the Safire departure are empty and colourless. The strange beautiful accents have disappeared, along with the clipping leather boots, the lingering scent of cedar and cigar smoke that trailed their officers. The familiar now seems too tame and predictable. Only delicate silk on marble and hushed laughter in the halls.
The silence leaves room for misery.
Despondent, I open my atlas to a map of the world, tracing the patchwork colours, the faraway shapes, and on these pages, the distance doesn’t seem so miserably vast. The space between Savient and Etania spans the stretch of my hand. Across knuckles and palm and the length of fingers. Across mountains and valleys and an expanse of deep sea. Athan doesn’t seem so far away on paper, the memory of his smile still making me warm and delirious. It’s all I can do to hold back laughter and tears. I feel I’m being broken into terrible, wonderful little pieces on the inside, and Heathwyn is kind enough to pretend she notices nothing.
If I had wings, I’d be gone.
The third morning after the Safire departure, Havis and his new guest host a lunch for Mother, Uncle, Reni, and me. Their table is rich with foods from Resya—olives and tomatoes drizzled in currant and cinnamon, fried eggplants with onion and garlic and sea salt. The air smells like delicious spice. But Mother appears hardly wooed. She and Uncle have already met with the two of them, no doubt thanks to the recent events in Thurn, and our new guest invites suspicion. He’s quiet and sharp, his collared shirt unbuttoned at the neck, cream against brown skin.
His gaze strays everywhere but our faces.
“This is Lark Gazhirem,” Havis explains as we wait to be seated. “A dear friend from King Rahian’s court.”
The introduction encourages a smile from the young man—he can’t be much older than Reni. “I’m honoured, Your Highness.” He bows to Reni, then to me, finally revealing his eyes to mine. They’re a bright copper.
We sit, and Mother waves the footman out. Discussion begins with routine things, like the splendid weather in the mountains and Havis’s mother’s continued illness. He’s grateful he was given the brief leave to see her, and we each offer appropriate condolences.
Lark says nothing, sipping at mint tea and fidgeting with his fork.
Reni watches his restless hand.
“Ambassador Gazhirem, have you been to the North before?” my brother asks suddenly.
The copper eyes glance up, caught off guard by this direct address. “I haven’t. It’s my first visit and I’m quite impressed.” He speaks Landori with confidence, his accent as refined as Havis’s.
“Indeed,” Reni continues, “and please forgive the intrusion into matters that might not concern me, but may I ask the purpose of this first visit?”
The words are mildly caustic, since the crown prince should certainly be concerned with all matters, and Mother casts Reni a warning glance. His eyes remain on Lark, intent.
Lark sets down his glass. “I have a proposal, Your Highness. From Resya. Perhaps I might share the details with you in a private meeting?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Mother says. “I’ve heard enough already.”
Lark frowns. “I was referring to the Prince, and he deserves—”
“No,” Uncle intervenes. “We’ve had our deliberations and made a decision.”
“Discussed what?” Reni asks, chagrined. “I have a right to hear it.”
“We’ll discuss later,” Uncle says.
“No. No, I insist on hearing.”
It’s the first time Reni’s ever not deferred to Uncle, and uncomfortable tension prickles the air. Lark appears vaguely amused, gaze darting round at the key players in this standoff. It’s as if he is waiting to see who will say what and when. Sensing a stalemate, he leans towards Reni across the table. “My father works for King Rahian. He has a proposal that could bring us all peace.”
Peace.
I sit straighter.
“Why didn’t your father come himself?” Reni asks.
“In the South,” Havis offers, “it’s a gesture of trust to send your child to dialogue on your behalf. It displays faith in the goodwill of another.”
Mother raises her hand. “Enough of this. Years ago, I had much respect for King Rahian, but he has turned himself into a bitter isolationist, ruined by drink. I won’t entangle myself there.”
I can see Reni’s expression brighten slightly, a bit of pleasure in his eyes to hear Mother say this. It’s what he has longed for from her, a blatant refusal to get involved with her homeland—and to hear it out loud, to the face of an ambassador from Resya, is victory to him.
But Lark won’t be hindered. “It isn’t Rahian’s fault. His crown descends from Efan, as yours does, and yet he’s rejected at every turn simply because he was born into a kingdom on the Southern continent. I thought you, at least, might understand the injustice of that.”
“It isn’t injustice,” she replies. “It’s politics, and my hands are tied. I’ve plenty before me with the General. I won’t push my people to accept the entire world at once.”
“Ah, yes,” Lark says darkly, “you’d pick that man over us.”
His boldness is astonishing, and Reni’s anger flashes. “You’d best watch your tongue and remember to whom you speak,” he says. “You’ve no right to address her in such a manner!”
“I have every right,” Lark replies. “I’m the same as you at this table.”
Reni and I gasp. No one else looks so surprised. Havis only rubs his head.
“Blood ties,” Lark explains curtly. “Cousins, to be exact. My father is your uncle.”