All hope and colour drains from my face. I’ve run her right into the lion’s den and there’s nothing I can do.
I let go of her hand helplessly, retreating as she strides forward.
Uncomfortable silence reigns in the darkened room. The velvet curtains are drawn tight, routine protection from snipers, and everyone stares at Ali, trying to register where she’s come from.
Then Arrin grins. His casual grin that’s all danger on the inside.
“Princess,” he says, eyeing her up and down. The ruined dress. Cyar’s crumpled jacket. “Have you been running around outside?” Then his eyes jump to me. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me. Is this Lieutenant Erelis? The one who frightened the balcony of royalty?”
“It doesn’t matter what’s happened to me,” she says, chin raised in her usual show of force. “There isn’t time. Right now, you must let my mother speak to the kingdom. She had nothing to do with my father’s death.”
I’m impressed she’s still going to try her scheme on Arrin. It will never work, but she’s not afraid to try. Guilt works at my stomach. I could speak up and defend her. A no-name lieutenant can’t mouth off to the Commander, but his little brother can. And I want to. How I want to give him a piece of my mind for all of this! But then she’d know the truth, and this is the worst time and place to hear it.
I’d lose her forever.
So I stay behind and pray Father shows up fast.
Arrin meanders over to her, a hint of concern on his face. “You think so? You think it’s coincidence that a king was murdered and a Southern woman now conveniently sits on a Northern throne? I’m not sure, Princess. I don’t think it looks very good.”
“And don’t you think these protesters know that also?” she replies. “We’ve been set up. They want to tear Etania apart for their own gain. It’s obvious.”
“Well, it might have been obvious if Resya wasn’t now also accused of aiding the Nahir.”
Ali tenses at that. I can see her hands tighten on the envelope. “Those are lies. There is no proof, and most of our kingdom is still loyal to my mother. You’ll see.”
“I will see, yes, but first what is that?”
His hand whips for the envelope, no doubt having zeroed in on it right from the first moment, but she’s even quicker. I don’t know how she saw it coming, but it’s already behind her back. “Photographs,” she says calmly, looking up at him.
The false humour on Arrin’s lips fades. “I hope it’s a portrait of you,” he says. “I’m sure the Lieutenant would love to carry it into battle.”
“Of your crime,” she declares. “And if your General doesn’t release my mother and speak on her behalf, everyone will see them. I’ve already sent the other photographs with a trusted ally. Take these if you like, but the evidence will get to the Royal League. I’ll make sure of it.”
It’s another bold lie, but she sells it too well.
“I told you before,” Arrin says to her, voice dangerously low. “I didn’t do this.”
She reveals one photograph. “Were you not in Beraya, quelling the revolt there?”
“Yes. But I didn’t do that.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Whether it was you or whether you were complicit with the ones who did, I’m sure the murder of prisoners—and children, at that—is something the League would like to be informed of. There are already enough rumours about your campaign in Karkev as it is.”
Arrin sucks in a breath and turns from her. From him, that’s restraint. But I don’t trust it.
Speak, you coward, my bit of conscience says, but I can’t.
Not like this.
“Princess, you have nothing to go on but hearsay. It’s my honour at stake. I’m the one you will blackmark for all of history, whatever the truth may be. Do you think that’s fair?”
She doesn’t look away. “You needn’t worry. God favours the innocent, doesn’t he?”
He reaches for his pistol and turns on her. “You damned little—”
“Arrin, step back!”
Father’s cold voice whips like a leash as he strides into the room.
Arrin’s hand is still on the sidearm, but he steps back from Ali.
This is progress. Now I just need to stay alive long enough to explain it all to Father. He wouldn’t put a bullet in me, not in front of everyone. But Arrin might, and he’s glaring at me now like the thought’s definitely in his head.
Father walks to Ali without hurry. “You’re sweet to care so much for the Southern children, Your Highness.” It’s the tone he saves for the public. Calm. Gracious. “Now how do you want this to go? You know I’m only trying to protect your kingdom from revolt. Such unrest must be dealt with decisively.”
This fatherly angle—like none of this was his idea and he’s only assuming the role forced onto his shoulders—works. Ali relaxes, lowering the photographs. “I know,” she says, equally gracious. “And we’re so grateful you’ve secured the palace. You’ve saved us tonight from these vile men. But I swear to you that my mother is innocent. She lives only for Etania, for the kingdom of my father.”
Father cocks his head. “May I talk plainly, Princess?”
She nods.
“I wonder,” he says, “if you might be blinded by your affection? That’s understandable, of course. We would all believe the same in your position.” He gestures at the men around. “But honesty is the only thing that can quell the storm tonight. All cards on the table so that an understanding may be reached.”
“An understanding?” she repeats.
“Yes. No one wants your mother slandered, Princess, I assure you. Dangerous men can persuade even the most noble into terrible things. And that isn’t the fault of the noble ones, but of the dangerous men.” He pauses. “I think we all know the Resyan king has put quite a lot of pressure on her lately. With his ambassador … Ambassador Havis, I believe?”
It’s a cruel trap, an invitation to innocently implicate her mother by placing the blame on someone else, but she shakes her head. “He has tried, but she refuses. She wants nothing to do with Resya.”
“You know all your mother’s private dealings, then?”
“I know enough. And she is innocent.” Ali’s dark hair has escaped its elaborate style, strands sticking this way and that. She’s a mess. Torn lace and wearing a jacket too big for her shoulders, dried blood splattered all over. A miserable, muddied star fallen in disgrace. “Now let me say plainly, General, if you do not release my mother and speak on her behalf, the entire world will know what your son did to the unarmed boys of Beraya.”
She’s glorious.
The whole room waits for Father’s reaction, his men shifting in their boots, sharp glances filled with nerves.
This is the precipice, and I’m ready to throw myself in front of her. Beg him, as his son, not to hurt her. Destroy Sinora, but never Ali. Shoot me, even. I’m the worst traitor in this room. I let her kiss me when I knew her world was ending. When I knew my brother wouldn’t hesitate to pull a gun on her.
I’m the worst, but I will fight.
But then a small smile appears on Father’s face. “Persuasive, even without the blackmail.” He waves to one of his men. “Bring Her Majesty. Perhaps together we can make our address and right this night.”
His attaché nods, disappearing into the hall.
“You have protected our home and done us a great service,” Ali says to Father, playing beautifully, putting him in the best light, “and you will see the truth.”
“I do hope so,” he replies.
Then he looks right at me. Wordless. Razor-sharp.
I want to disappear.
“It’s not his fault,” Ali says quickly. Father turns back to her. “The Lieutenant,” she explains, gesturing at me. “He didn’t know I had these. I said I needed to speak with you, that’s all. I ordered him to it.”
Father smiles again. “Of course. My soldiers are bred to follow the orders of the higher rank, even those from a girl.”
Arrin smirks darkly at me and kisses his pistol before holstering it.
Father’s attaché creeps back through the door almost as quickly as he left.
“Yes?” Father demands.
“The cities have been dealt with, sir. Our planes are returning.”