“Harlikaan.” Elagbi squared his shoulders, his dark gaze entreating as it fixed on the Zahiya-lachis. “You know as well as I do that my wife was manipulated by your enemies. It wasn’t her fault. Even if it were, Talasyn wouldn’t be similarly responsible. She grew up in an orphanage, far away from the bones of her ancestors. She is a victim of these circumstances, not the one who should be blamed for them.”
Urduja still didn’t look convinced. Granted, she didn’t look much of anything at all, her pristine features giving very little away, but Talasyn was at her wits’ end. If Nenavar didn’t agree to harbor the Sardovians, it was over. They didn’t have enough supplies to continue sailing the skies above the Eversea until they reached other nations that might not even welcome them at all. Not to mention the fact that every minute spent over open water was another minute that they risked discovery by Kesathese patrols.
A decade of sacrifice—of blood and sweat and heroes and loss—couldn’t come to such a floundering end. Talasyn would do anything.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” she blurted out. “I can’t apologize for something that happened when I was only a year old, but if you agree to grant us sanctuary you won’t be getting any trouble from me. I swear.”
She held her breath. And waited.
Urduja’s dark lips curved into a smirk. “Fine. I’ve made my decision. There is a cluster of uninhabited islands in the westernmost reaches of my territory. We call it Sigwad, the Storm God’s Eye. It is located in the middle of a narrow strait that none may enter without my permission, as the waters are turbulent and the winds are always rough—and it is the site of Nenavar’s Tempest Sever, which activates frequently. Those islands will provide sufficient refuge for the Sardovian fleet, I believe.” For a brief moment, she seemed amused by the bewildered silence that followed her announcement. Then she addressed her next words to Vela. “To clarify, the Tempestroad steers clear of the island group, but it does wrap around it, filling the rest of the strait. The way to the Storm God’s Eye is dangerous, yes, but it’s very remote while still under my jurisdiction, and no one will bother you there. That makes it the best option for your purposes. Therefore, Nenavar’s borders will be open to Sardovia for a fortnight, during which you may evacuate your troops into the strait. My patrols will be instructed to look the other way, but I do not guarantee my protection should you give them any cause for complaint. Any airship or stormship—” she sneered around the word—“that attempts to enter the Dominion after the allotted time will be shot down on sight. But the Allfold may shelter here until they are ready to take back the Northwest Continent.”
Talasyn could not feel relief. Not yet. There was a frenetic current in the air—as well as a stiffening in Vela’s posture—that told her that there was a catch.
And, indeed, it wasn’t long before the Dragon Queen added, “In exchange, Alunsina will, of course, stay in the capital. Where she will assume her role as Lachis’ka of the Nenavar Dominion.”
In the privacy of his suite on board the Deliverance, the largest of Kesath’s stormships and his father’s primary mode of conveyance in both war and affairs of state, Alaric removed the obsidian wolf’s-snarl mask that covered the lower half of his face, placing it on a nearby table.
He’d just come back from scouting to the west of the Eversea, having found no trace of the Sardovian remnant. Not even wreckage. Gaheris was in a relatively pleasant mood, still exulting in his decisive victory, but that wasn’t going to last when he once again remembered that his son had let the Lightweaver escape.
Alaric was to blame, honestly. He’d allowed her to slip from his grasp, for reasons that were still unclear to him after long hours of combing through his memories of their encounter during the siege of Lasthaven. Something had made him walk away, something that he had no name for—and, shortly before that, something had made him propose that she come with him.
He cringed every time he recalled that part in his mind.
Gaheris had professed some curiosity about the Lightweave and the Shadowgate combining, but in the end he had decreed that Shadowforged needed nothing from Lightweavers. So why, in the name of the gods, had Alaric put forward such a suggestion to the girl who was his greatest enemy?
And why couldn’t he stop thinking about her now?
Perhaps he felt sorry for her. Everything she’d ever known was dust.
Alaric strode over to the windows and peered out, through layers of metalglass, at the twisted remains of several Heartland cities several miles below. The death toll for the capital alone numbered in the hundreds of thousands. It was a scale of destruction the like of which had not been seen since Kesath annexed the Hinterland, the same event that had led to Ideth Vela’s defection and begun the Hurricane Wars.
But it was well and truly over. The Night Empire had triumphed. The Shadow had fallen over the Continent, as it had always been meant to.
Alaric gazed down upon the wasteland, with its leveled buildings and its sea of corpses, and he wondered if it had been worth the cost. A stray thought and nothing more, but it lingered, right up until the aetherwave transceiver in his suite crackled to life and he was informed by one of the Legion that his father wished to see him.
While Ideth Vela’s sternness was a thing of legend, Talasyn had rarely seen her truly vexed. The woman who had received news of Coxswain Darius’s betrayal practically without batting an eye was now pacing the length of the small anteroom where Urduja had agreed to let her and Talasyn have a few minutes alone to discuss the proposal.
“Did you see how quickly she came up with those terms?” Vela demanded. “She planned this from the very beginning, before we even set foot on this ship.”
“It was rather fast, Amirante,” Talasyn cautiously agreed.
“This means that her reign is in jeopardy,” Vela muttered. “She needs to secure the line of succession. The other noble houses are surely vying to replace a queen with no heir. Urduja’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep her throne.”
You’d better have a good reason for summoning me from the capital in the midst of the succession debate, Talasyn once again remembered Elagbi saying to Rapat. Had the Zahiya-lachis been besieged even then? Perhaps even since Sintan’s rebellion was vanquished and the ship bearing Alunsina Ivralis never returned . . .
Vela rounded on Elagbi with startling alacrity as soon as the Nenavarene prince joined them in the anteroom. “You,” she thundered, seeming not in the least bit cowed by his royal rank. “Did you know about this? Did you know what the Dragon Queen had in store for us?”
Elagbi held up his hands in pleading, in promise, his eyes fixed on Talasyn. “I swear to you, I did not.”
The Amirante’s rage would not be quelled. “We came here in good faith,” she retorted bitterly. “Not so that your daughter could be coerced into your nest of vipers.”