“What the hell?” Cyar says, blinking at me.
“Wait.” I swing back and toss a folded paper at him. “Stay on my wing, all right?”
He doesn’t question it. He’s stunned by my madness, gaping, but he nods and takes the paper, staring at it likes it’s a scorpion.
Thank God for Cyar.
* * *
I arrive at Father’s quarters and bang on the door. I’m past worrying, past fear.
Just desperate.
Father opens it with an annoyed expression, and the scowl deepens when he finds me on the other side. Around him I see Arrin and a young man who is Southern-looking, not in uniform, and my suspicion turns to raging certainty.
“Would you excuse us, Ambassador Gazhirem?” Father says to the man. “I need to deal with my son in private.”
It’s partly polite, partly a threat directed at me, but I no longer care.
The Ambassador doesn’t hesitate. “Have a pleasant evening, General,” he says with a slight bow, then stalks by me for the door, smiling warily, brown eyes curious.
Then he’s gone.
Father looks at me, something like expectation in his gaze—like he’s been waiting for me all night. Waiting for me to show up at his door in a fury.
I don’t like that.
“Your ace in the South,” I say, watching his face. “Tell me it isn’t Seath.”
There’s only a flicker in his expression, a slightly raised brow and then a subtle twist at the end of his mouth. He fills a glass with brandy and glances at Arrin. “There, you see? He is the brilliant one. It took you months to figure it out—and you had every report at your disposal.”
“In my defense,” Arrin replies, arms behind his head, “you were the one who specifically said the Nahir cutting out my tongue would be a favour to you. It didn’t cross my mind you’d be encouraging your friends to do that. But then, when have I ever been given special treatment?” He looks at me. “Not like Lieutenant Erelis.”
Neither one is denying my absurd claim.
This can’t be true.
“Father, what are you doing?” I demand, and I know I sound stunned, a step behind.
He eyes his brandy in the lamplight. “It’s as you said, Athan. Seath is helping me take the South. I supply him with the weapons, he wages the war. He’s uniting that place, far faster than anyone has before, and with him on my side, I’ll succeed where every other Northern king has failed.” He tastes the brandy. “And in return, I’ll one day stand with Seath as ally. He’ll have the Free Thurn he’s fought so long for—once we’ve cowed the royals into submission. Fear of him is a helpful motivator for now.”
I stare, horrified. “You’re arming the Nahir?”
“Seath isn’t the monster they believe,” Father admonishes quickly, “and he’s certainly more reasonable than many down there. He’s a revolutionary, Athan. A man who wants a change of power, a new order to things. And who better to help with that?” Father indicates himself, as if that needs to be clarified.
And suddenly it does make perfect and terrible sense. Two revolutionaries challenging the established, royal order in a secret alliance. Two leaders who fought their way from nothing, who are demanding attention whether anyone wants to give it to them or not.
Of course Father would admire a man like Seath.
Of course Seath would admire a man like Father.
“If Gawain catches wind of this—” I stop. There’s an edge of desperation in my voice. “If anyone in the North finds out, we’re ruined. The united kingdoms would outnumber us easily.”
“I don’t leave a trail,” he says simply. “Nothing on paper or otherwise. I have a man to go in-between.”
The pieces shift together with my dread.…
“Havis,” I say.
It’s too much, too fast. Seath and Father have together conspired to put an innocent kingdom in the crosshairs. They’ve convinced the North that Resya is to blame for all this trouble. They’ve made sure the evidence leads there, not to Father. When the kings of the North wonder who is arming the Nahir, they’ll see Resya in their reports, in their suspicions.
And Resya is Sinora’s homeland.
She’ll be the only Northern queen with ties to the kingdom that armed the Nahir.
“Seath is helping you bring down Sinora,” I say, feeling helpless before the scope of all this. “You’re going to make her as guilty as Resya when you go to war there.”
“Don’t look so glum about it,” Arrin remarks.
Father nods. “That was the idea, though Seath has his own quarrel with her. It goes back further than mine. Fortunately, I now have an even better sin to condemn her with which won’t take quite so long.”
In this moment, I’m not sure whether to be in awe of him or terrified. He’s feigned friendship with the Landorians to get his army into their Southern territory. He’s feigned an alliance with Sinora to lure her into the right trap. Now, he’s mobilizing the Nahir and supporting their revolution and blaming it on another kingdom entirely. It’s all a charade. The weeks Kalt spent out on the sea looking for Nahir, the aftermath of the arms exchange we passed on the Pursuit … Those exchanges were with us. We gave them guns and mortars and better aircraft, pinning it on Resya. And that reality brings a bitter truth, hollowing me out and leaving a fierce hurt.
“You mean I’ve been fighting you?”
Father shifts and won’t meet my eye. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”
Not quite, but close enough. Those Nahir pilots who tried to kill me are on our team. It’s all a show—a deadly show—to make it look real.
Do their pilots know the truth? Or are we all in the dark, committing ourselves to this lethal game, believing it counts for something?
I look between my father and brother. Twin masters of madness. I’m scared to be in the same room as them, to know they don’t give a damn about anything, not even me. “I don’t know what it is you’re planning here tonight, for Sinora, but please swear to me the Princess won’t be involved. She has nothing to do with this.”
Father frowns, vexed. “She’ll be fine.”
I don’t believe him.
Arrin rolls his eyes at me. “Despite what you think, that girl knows far more than she should and is liable to start slandering our mission. Good job winning her to our side.”
“She says you murdered children, Arrin.”
“You too?”
“You’re not denying it?”
Arrin looks to Father, disbelieving, then throws his hands in the air. “You created this mess, Father. How’d you not guess he’d end up too far in to see straight?”
“Tell me what you’re doing tonight,” I growl at my brother.
“Me?” Arrin’s usual stupid grin returns. “I have a date in Hathene.”
Of course. The entire city is in a state of unrest and he’s there like a moth to easy flames. “Don’t stir something that’s already boiling, Arrin. This kingdom, and every kingdom around, will pin it on us and then—”
“They won’t pin it on us,” Arrin says.
“Why not?”
“Because those protesters were bought by us.”
The shock of this revelation is significantly lessened, thanks to the Nahir one. I realize my hand has worked itself into a brutal fist.
“Well, they were ours at first,” Arrin continues, “back in the spring. And we might have given them some rifles for tonight. But actually, it was much easier than expected to get Etanian tempers riled. They really feel strongly about getting this Resyan woman off their throne. I wanted ours to storm the palace tonight, to deliver the coup, but to be honest, the group’s grown since my speech to the League and I’m not sure what they’ll do when they reach here. Might have to have an actual battle with them. Take a few out before we can win and look like heroes.”
I stare at him. “Who the hell is going to fight with us against Etanians?”
“I don’t know. Maybe supporters of the Prince. Civil wars are messy, Athan. Anything can happen!” He sounds disturbingly intrigued about the possibilities.