“I come from a different background than the rest of the Council members, and I sometimes make decisions that make me unpopular amongst certain of my colleagues.”
That was an understatement. Malikel’s rise to power was the stuff of legend. The idea of a mercenary from the southern kingdom of Minadel becoming Defense Minister of Forge would have been unthinkable thirty years ago. But a series of heroic acts—most notably, saving the life of the former Defense Minister in a skirmish—had moved him into positions of command. And from there, Malikel had flouted tradition and followed his own judgment on everything from the way he trained his troops to the way he structured their hierarchy underneath him. There had been disapproving glances and clucking of tongues for the entirety of his career, but no one could deny that Malikel was very, very good at what he did. And eventually, that had been enough. Tristam knew all this by heart, but what did it have to do with him?
Malikel’s eyes crinkled, as if he could read the thoughts going through Tristam’s mind. “Going against convention, disapproval from the court—these are waves I’m willing to make. But in a sense, the consequences for me are not severe. When I made my entry into court, I had very little social capital to risk. Being from Minadel, I had no family to which I was responsible.” Malikel spoke matter-of-factly, and nothing in his manner invited pity. “That’s not the case, however, with you.”
“Sir?”
“I worry I’ve been a bad influence on you. You’ve already been demoted once. And though it’s a temporary censure, that kind of mark will affect both your future and that of your family’s.”
“I don’t regret any of the decisions I’ve made,” said Tristam. Actually, it was more complicated than that. His entire attempt to rescue Kyra had been a disaster. Martin had died, and it turned out that Kyra hadn’t actually needed rescuing. So in that sense, he had many regrets. But given what he’d known at the time, going after Kyra had been the right thing to do. The disgrace that he suffered now at the hands of his peers was a small price to pay.
“And that’s admirable,” said Malikel. “Just be aware of the choices you make, and make your decisions with your eyes open. It would be remiss of me as your commander not to mention it.”
“Thank you, sir.” Tristam didn’t quite know what else to say.
“You will be at the diplomatic ball tomorrow night, correct?” said Malikel.
“Yes, sir.” Every three years, the leaders of the three cities gathered for a summit that started with a diplomatic ball. All under Malikel’s direct command were required to attend.
“Good. Take some time with Kyra there. She’ll need some help learning the protocols of court. And think on what I’ve said. It’s a lot to process but ultimately not something you can afford to ignore.”
Tristam struggled to unravel his thoughts as he made his way out the door. Malikel’s advice unsettled him. He might have expected such words from Willem or one of the more active members of court, but Malikel, he couldn’t dismiss so readily. He looked down at his livery, contemplating the F that marked his rank. Somehow, he had the feeling that things weren’t going to get any simpler.
F O U R
Flick had an excruciatingly loud wolf whistle. Kyra heard it often enough when he flirted with his favorite serving girls, but until this evening, she had never appreciated just how obnoxious it could be. That was probably because, until tonight, he had never directed it at her.