“Described?” I ask, flicking my eyes over at him.
“He said gold was his new favorite color,” she says with a grin. “I can see why.”
My cheeks heat.
“It’s a nice shift from rot brown and mold green,” Barley quips.
A snort escapes me, and then Isalee moves over for Warken to take my hand. “If you get sick of this one, we have two sons,” he tells me with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.
“Father,” Barley says with a roll of her eyes. “You can’t keep trying to marry my brothers off every time you meet someone new.”
Warken sighs. “I’m going to be dead in a grave before any of you have babies.”
“You’re only fifty. You’re fine,” she retorts. “Besides, Dis prefers men most of the time, and he’s always busy at the brewery.”
My eyes widen. “Wait a minute...” I look between them, thoughts clicking into place as I remember something.
My family owns a brewery back in Fourth. But I got off easy. My older brother is named Distill. Unlucky, that. But we’re both a bit jealous of our sister, Barley. She’s got the best name of the lot.
“You’re related to Keg!” I blurt out with excitement. Now that it’s clicked, I can see the family resemblance, though he takes more after his father—I can see it in their eyes.
“You know our son?” Isalee asks, affection clear in her tone.
“When I asked about his name, he said you owned a brewery.” My eyes dart to Keg’s sister. “He said you got the best name out of the three of you.”
They all laugh, Barley smiling with a hint of satisfaction. “That’s because I did.”
“Their father named them,” Isalee says, rolling her eyes but sending a fond smile to her husband.
Warken just rolls back on his heels, completely pleased with himself. “My family has owned the brewery for generations. Thought it would be fitting.”
“You also own the most land in Fourth. And run the most successful spice trade. Plus the bathhouses. And the water mills. Could’ve named us after any of those,” Barley says. “Not that I’m complaining, because I did get the best name.”
He waves her off. “The brewery is my favorite.” Leaning in closer to me, he says, “It’s very lucrative.”
“Wark,” his wife cuts in. “It’s not polite to talk about money.”
My lips tip up. “I’m gold. It’s really fine.”
Warken laughs. “Ah, I like you,” he says, wagging a finger at me. “So, tell me, how is our Keg doing? Did you know he was supposed to come into politics with the rest of the family?”
“Yes, and he didn’t. He was the smart one of the bunch,” Barley says dryly.
Warken cuts a thumb over to Slade. “He joined this man’s army instead, deciding that instead of making power plays and writing up delegations, he’d rather cook.”
“Well...his slop was very good,” I joke. “Best cook in the army, if you ask me.”
“So you two met properly?” Isalee asks.
I nod. “Yes. He was very nice to me, right from the start. And he fed me, so he was an instant favorite.”
“Well, let’s get you fed with us too,” she replies warmly. “We have some things to tide us over before the dinner formally starts.” Her dark eyes shift to Slade. “And we should speak before Third’s advisor arrives.”
All of us go to the table, where Slade pulls out a chair for me right beside him. Warken, Isalee, and Barley all sit across from us, leaving the seat at the head of the table open.
“Shouldn’t you be sitting there?” I say to Slade as he takes a seat beside me.
“I’d much rather sit next to you,” he says with a wink.
“He also likes to play mind games,” Warken chuckles. “Placing Manu there is a good way to do something unexpected and put him on the spot a bit more.”
The table is a thick slab of wood, so dark it’s nearly black, the edges left raw, showing off the grains and irregular trim. There are already small plates laid out, along with polished silverware and wooden goblets, and Slade quickly serves me some fresh bread and wine before serving himself.
Once we’re situated and I’ve already taken my first bite, Slade looks across to them. “Alright. Lay it all out.”
Isalee sets her own cup down with a nod. “Since you left with the army to travel to Fifth, we’ve made sure the outpost at Cliffhelm was repaired and the soldiers there relieved. Of course, when the supply shipment didn’t arrive, we made sure to send over a backup cargo that should be getting there within the week. Then as you know, we had new recruits for the army that are in the training camp in Farncroft.”
“Good,” Slade says. “And the mines?”
It’s Warken who answers. “They’ve hit another very productive pocket three weeks ago. We’ve been making sure to work it, refreshing the laborers there too, keeping morale up with pay increases as they work the fissures to extract the oil.”
“And the north mountains?”
“Ahead of schedule on the mineral deposits—that vein has been incredibly easy to extract. We’ve been having it worked quickly in order to prepare for possible conflicts with the other kingdoms,” Warken explains, his hand rubbing over his chin thoughtfully. “So our reserves are up. We have plenty of funds to do what needs to be done with weapons and new armory and food stores.”
“But therein lies the problem,” Barley adds, cutting her eyes up to Slade. “We just got word from another one of our ports. Our imports have slowed.”
“From where?”
“Third Kingdom.”
Beside me, Slade’s body stiffens. “How many shipments have arrived?”
Barley shares a look with her mother before replying. “Three.”
He physically jerks back. “Three?” His eyes skate across the table. “How can that be? I know you sent word that the supply shipment for Cliffhelm seemed to have some foul play when it went missing, but this...”
“Best we can tell,” Warken begins, his face grim, “is that this is no longer an isolated incident. It’s no longer shipment sabotage. Third Kingdom seems to have slowed our imports drastically.”
Slade’s fist closes around his butter knife like he’s envisioning stabbing someone in the eye with it. “So that’s their play. We can mine all the rock and gems in the world to pay for the imports our kingdom needs, but it does nothing if the trade agreements in place aren’t going to be honored.”
My stomach sinks. “The three ships that did arrive—why didn’t they block those?” I ask.
“All three had been on extended journeys,” Isalee tells me. “One ship was nearly sunk in a storm, holed up at the edge of our territory awhile for repairs. The other two had been gone for weeks, dropping off and picking up along their trade route. We believe the only reason all three of them actually docked at our port was because they hadn’t been able to be reached to cut us off.”
“What was on the ships?” Slade asks.
“One had grain, another was salted meat, and another had fabrics.”
The table is quiet for a moment as Slade takes all of this in, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach grows and festers.
“So they’re cutting Fourth off,” I say quietly.
Warken nods solemnly.
The lines of power flail beneath the skin at Slade’s neck, tucking into the beard of his jaw. “Fucking bastards.”
“They’re playing the game,” Isalee says. “Queen Kaila is cunning, and she moves quickly. We knew her traveling to Fifth was a power play. She’s had to adjust. Now with what happened with King Midas and Prince Niven, she’s pushing the narrative that Fourth is harboring a traitor.”
I swallow hard. “Me.”
She tips her head.
“Just so you know, I didn’t steal Midas’s magic, and I’m not here to steal Slade’s.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry,” Warken tells me. “Slade doesn’t trust very many people, so when he does, we know that they’re trustworthy. That includes you.”
The compliment warms my chest, makes some of the anxiety melt from my shoulders.