He throws his shoulders wide, self-assured. “It’s too easy.”
Like a true grandmother, Anabel pats him on the arm with the manner of someone teaching a toddler a syrupy life lesson. “Nothing in life is truly easy, but you take the breaks you manage to find, Tiberias.”
“I mean it says nothing,” he answers, extricating himself from her grasp. “Not to the people of Norta, not to our allies, and certainly not to our enemies. It’s an empty move. An expected move. Delphie is already mine in all but name, correct? I simply have to raise my flag and proclaim it.”
“Yes,” she says with a blink. “Why throw away such a gift?”
He sighs, a little exasperated, and I share the feeling. “I’m not. The gift is already given. You’re right: We do need another stronghold, preferably in Norta. Another victory to prove our strength. Put fear in the Lakelands and Piedmont, as there is already fear in Maven.”
“Where do you suggest?” I ask, leaning forward. If only to move along his proposal and end this miserable show.
He nods at me. “Harbor Bay.”
“That was your mother’s favorite palace,” Anabel mutters at his side, forgetting herself. Cal doesn’t respond, as if he doesn’t hear her. “And governed by families loyal to Maven.”
“It’s strategic,” he offers.
General Farley narrows her eyes. “It’s another siege and another battle that could get hundreds of us killed.”
“It has Fort Patriot,” Cal fires back. “It services the army, the Air Fleet, and the navy armada.” He ticks each one off on his fingers. His fervor is palpable, almost contagious. I can understand why he was made a general at such a young age. Maybe if I were a simple soldier, if I didn’t know any better, I would willingly follow such a man into the jaws of death. “We can choke off a large piece of Maven’s military, and perhaps win some of it in the process. At the very least, we’ll be able to replace what we lost in Piedmont. Weapons, transports, jets. It’s all there for the taking. And the city itself is a Scarlet Guard hot spot.”
Father arches one sharp eyebrow. He is almost grinning, a ferocious sight. “A wise decision,” he says. King Volo’s agreement seems to take Cal by surprise, but it shouldn’t. I know my father and see the hunger in him, the lust for power that he always keeps close. I bet he already dreams of Harbor Bay laid bare, a Samos flag raised over the conquered city. “Maven has taken a fort from us. We’ll take a city from him.”
Cal dips his head. “Yes, exactly.”
“If you can take it,” Mare replies, looking over her shoulder at him. Her brown-and-gray hair spins with her momentum, gleaming with a reddish hue in the sunset.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
“Attack Harbor Bay. Attempt to overthrow the city. It’s a good risk and we should try,” she says. “But even if we fail, we can still strike a real blow to Maven’s forces.”
In spite of myself, I find this intriguing. I smooth my skirts, rippled sheets of speckled silver and white silk, as I lean toward her. “How, Barrow?”
She seems almost grateful, and shows me her teeth in what could be a reluctant smile. “Split open New Town, the techie slum outside Harbor Bay. Loose the Reds. It’s a manufacturing hub, and it fuels Norta as much as any Silver fort. If we hit New Town, Gray Town, Merry Town—”
Again, Father is taken off guard. “You want to get rid of the tech centers?” he sputters, blinking at her like she told him to cut out his own beating heart.
Mare Barrow stands firm beneath his confounded gaze. “Yes.”
Anabel eyes Mare in disbelief, almost laughing. “And what about after this war is done, Miss Barrow? Will you pay to rebuild them?”
Mare almost bites off a chunk of her own tongue to keep back a sudden, unchecked retort. She takes a breath, willing herself to something within the realm of calm.
“If destroying them means victory?” she says slowly, ignoring Anabel’s questions. “Winning the country?”
Cal’s eyes shift and he steadily nods his head. Agreeing because she’s right—or because he’s still a lovesick puppy. “Breaking up even one tech center will greatly disrupt Maven’s ability to fight back, and it will spread unrest through his supporters. If the Reds see us as liberators, that can only help us,” he says. “Add that to taking over Fort Patriot—he could lose control of everything north of the Bay, all the way to the Lakelander border.” Thoughtful, he looks to his grandmother, opening his stance to her. “Cut off the entire region. And sandwich Maven between our already loyal Delphie, the Rift, and our new conquest.”
I imagine Norta in my head, or Norta as she was a year ago. Lines carve across her lands, like a cook slicing up pieces of pie. One chunk to us, two more to Cal. And the rest? My eyes linger on the Red general and Mare Barrow. And I think of that insufferable premier a thousand miles away. Which piece will they take?
I know what they want, at least.
The whole damn pie.
Ptolemus makes a show of mulling over my proposition. He runs a finger around the rim of his water glass, listening to the crystal sing. The sound is haunting, an ethereal echo weaving through our dinner. The sky behind him is blood red against his silhouette. My brother is strong-jawed, broad, with my father’s long nose and mother’s tiny rosebud mouth. He looks more like her in this light, with the growing shadows gathering beneath his eyes, in the hollows of his cheeks and throat. His clothes are fresh and casual for him: clean, white linen, light enough for the summer season.
Elane watches him play the glass with distaste, one side of her mouth curled into the beginnings of a sneer. The waning light gleams in her hair, giving her a ruby halo finer than any crown. She drains her own wine, staining her lips with berry, grape, and plum.
I refrain for the moment, leaving my wineglass full and undisturbed. Usually a quiet dinner away from my parents and the prying eyes of an assembled court is an excuse to drink as much as I like, but we have business to attend to.
“It’s a foolish plan, Evangeline. We don’t have time to play matchmaker,” Ptolemus mutters, his fingers gliding to a halt on the crystal rim. “Harbor Bay could be the end of us all.”
I cluck my tongue. “Don’t be a coward—you know Father wouldn’t risk you or me in an ill-fated siege.” We are well-cared-for investments, Tolly. His legacy depends on our survival. “Whether Cal wins Harbor Bay or not is of no interest me.”
“We do have time, at least,” Elane offers. She regards me with dark eyes that glimmer like star fall across a cornflower sky. “There can be no movement without the Montfort armies. And we still have to outfit our own soldiers, to build up for the siege.”
I slip my hand under the table, feeling the smooth softness of silk on her knee. “This is true. And I’m not suggesting we ignore the war, Tolly. Just divide our attention. Look elsewhere when we can. Nudge pieces on the chessboard.”
“Nudge pieces into bed, you mean,” Ptolemus says with a dry grin. He moves his hand from his water to the stout glass of biting clear liquor and ice he’s drinking. “You think I can influence Mare Barrow without getting my throat slit?” he asks, tossing back a fiery gulp. He winces, hissing air through his teeth. “I think it’s best I stay away from her.”
“I agree with that,” I answer. Barrow promised to let my brother live. It’s a promise I trust less and less every day. “But you can keep an eye on Cal. I thought he was immovable, completely dedicated to winning Norta, but . . . we may have an opportunity to stop that.”
My brother throws back another blistering swig. “We aren’t exactly friends.”
I shrug. “But close enough to it. At least you were a year ago.”