The Invasion of the Tearling

“Ah. So it is you. Levieux, is it? The old? Did you never think of funneling some of that wealth into the Tear?”


“Until very recently, Tear Queen, I would sooner have invested my money in magic beans. Now I’m committed to these people, who agitate for a more equitable Mortmesne. But they require victories to keep going. Open support from the Tearling would be good for morale.”

“What of Cadare?”

“The Cadarese have already begun to sabotage their tribute to Mortmesne, which is a useful distraction. But the Mort hold the Cadarese in small esteem, whereas you’re a figure of much curiosity over there, particularly among the poor.”

“I’ll consider it. I need to talk to Lazarus.”

“You know the Mort have broken through the border.”

“Yes.”

“What will you do when they come?”

“The entire population will be in New London by then. It’ll be a tight fit, but the city can hold them, at least for a time. I have an entire battalion laying in supplies for siege and fortifying the back side of the city.”

“They will breach the walls eventually.”

Kelsea frowned. “I know that.”

“And what will you do?”

She said nothing, kept her eyes away from the fireplace. The Fetch didn’t press her further, only leaned his chin on one fist, watching her with clear amusement. “Your mind is a fascinating thing, Tear Queen, always moving.”

She nodded, wandering across the room to her desk. She realized that she was trying to put herself front and center, trying to force him to notice her, the way she always noticed him. She suddenly found herself loathsome. She was the same Kelsea she had always been, and he hadn’t wanted her before. If he suddenly wanted her now that she had a pretty face and a pretty body, what did that make him?

I can’t win. Her old appearance had been genuine, and had gained her nothing. But her new appearance was worse, hollow and false, and anything that she gained by it would carry that falsity like a disease. If this was the work of her jewels, then Kelsea didn’t want it anymore.

“You grow pretty, Tear Queen.”

Kelsea flushed. The statement, which might have pleased her moments before, now made her feel sick.

“What will you do with your new beauty? Catch yourself a rich husband?”

“I won’t share my throne, not with anyone.”

“What about an heir?”

“There are other ways to get one.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Practical, Tear Queen.”

Kelsea looked toward the curtain, thinking of Pen. If the Fetch’s laughter hadn’t woken him, he really must be out cold.

“Your guard is fine. I’ll wake him on my way out. If it’s any consolation, he was a tougher mark than your uncle’s guards ever were; at least Alcott stays awake on duty.”

Seeing an opportunity to change the subject, Kelsea jumped on it. “I suppose I should thank you for my lawn ornament.”

The Fetch’s face sobered, turning thoughtful. “Thomas died well, though it galls me to admit it. He died like a man.”

Dying well. Kelsea closed her eyes and saw again the Mort coming, crossing the Caddell and breaching the walls. She turned away, staring at the fireplace. Where was the handsome man, Rowland Finn, now? Where had he gone back to?

“Don’t think about him, Tear Queen.”

She whirled to face him. “Do you read minds?”

“I don’t need to. You’ve never hidden anything from me. I can’t stop him from coming here as he pleases, but I repeat my caution: give him nothing. Nothing he asks for, no house room in your mind. He’s a seductive creature, I know—”

Kelsea started in surprise, feeling caught.

“—and even I was deceived once, long ago.”

“How long?” Kelsea blurted out. “How old are you?”

“Too old.”

“Why haven’t you died?”

“A punishment.”

“What are you being punished for?”

“The worst of all crimes, Tear Queen. Now be quiet and listen.”

Kelsea winced. He had used Carlin’s tone again, the tone one would take with a wayward child, and Kelsea felt a sudden desperation to prove him wrong, to show him that she wasn’t a child anymore. But she didn’t know how.

“Row Finn, the man, was a liar,” the Fetch continued. “He’s a liar still. The Mort Queen gave in; she was a fool. Are you a fool as well?”

“No,” Kelsea mumbled, though she knew she was. She had become pretty, and she no longer felt like a child. But she was the worst fool in the world for thinking that these things would make a difference to the Fetch. He was still as far beyond her reach as he had ever been.