“Exactly,” Luvian said, to her surprise. She was being facetious. “A puppet master, pulling the strings. So we need to know what strings he holds. Understanding that will lead us back to Mael, or whoever he is. We know Vespus is the queen’s half-brother, and that he owns an Alvus tree farm in the north of Rhylla. That he was the ambassador in Rhannon for seven years—”
“Until he was banished for trying to manipulate my father into granting him land in Rhannon,” Sorrow added. “He first went after it during the war, trying to convince his half-sister to not sign the treaty unless the North Marches was granted to him. Charon said it was something to do with the conditions in the north of Rhannon, and the south of Rhylla being the best place for Alvus to grow. He needs the land there for it.”
“But Melisia wouldn’t give it to him. Either in Rhylla, or Rhannon. That sounds like Melisia doesn’t care if her brother’s business fails.”
“I suppose.”
“Which means she doesn’t support it, for whatever reason.” Luvian twisted round and made another note on his papers. “So he tried to prolong the war, and was denied. Next, he asked his sister for the ambassador’s job, and started working on Harun, who eventually sent him away because of it.”
“And in the meantime, he’d already started grooming a boy to be Mael, and Rhannon to accept him through the portraits, as another backup,” Sorrow said.
Luvian nodded, then frowned. “This is a huge amount of effort to go to just to get some land to grow trees on. He’s a lord – half-brother to a queen.”
“Maybe that’s it. It’s pride. Something only he can do, with his ability. Maybe he wants to be seen as special, or worthy in his own right. The only person in the world who can grow Alvus trees?”
Luvian shook his head. “It seems a remarkably unambitious goal for someone like Vespus. Get some land, be a great farmer… And like I said, so much work. Eighteen years of scheming and planning.”
“Charon said it wouldn’t just be land. It would be all of Rhannon. If he put a puppet ruler in charge, he could rule Rhannon through them, as his sister rules Rhylla,” Sorrow finished for him. “Maybe that’s his plan. He wants to play at being king, make himself Melisia’s equal.”
“Maybe,” Luvian said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
Sorrow was suddenly exhausted, too many thoughts in her mind. She lay back on Luvian’s bed, and sighed. She hadn’t expected it to be easy to unravel the mystery of Mael, but all their leads so far – Corius the tailor, long dead; the mysterious painter – had led to nothing but more doubts. There was no sign of the woman who’d supposedly raised Mael. The only solid thing they had was Vespus being in the background, pulling the strings, weaving his web. That was a problem, and one she planned on dealing with.
But still, she wanted, needed, to know whether or not the boy was a fake. She had to know one way or the other. She’d been on the bridge, seen the Archior, and she knew logically he couldn’t be, but as long as there was the tiniest doubt in her mind, she’d never rest.
All those times he’d smiled at her, defended her. He’d tried to make Harun apologize to her. He’d offered to sacrifice himself to the Sons of Rhannon so she could get away.
He believed he was her brother. He wanted to be.
And in the darkest, most secret part of her heart, buried so deeply she could barely acknowledge it, she realized she no longer hated the idea of it.
Even though she knew it was impossible, even though he was trying to take her job, and her home, and Rhannon from her…
Because if he was her brother, then she wasn’t alone.
But she couldn’t let him in until she knew for sure.
She couldn’t do anything until she knew for sure. So she had to find out who he really was.
“What’s the plan, then?” she asked.
“Focus on ‘election stuff’.”
Sorrow heard the smile in his voice and reached for one of his pillows, throwing it at him.
“Concentrate on wooing everyone at the Naming, and then channel that into efforts in Rhannon.” The pillow landed back beside her head, and Sorrow tucked it beneath her.
“And what will you be doing?”
“I will be using my enormous brain and intellect to cope with being your advisor and continuing to investigate Vespus, and Mael.” He paused, and then the bed dipped as he sat beside her. She turned to look at him.
“But I don’t want you to get bogged down in that obsession and sabotage your own campaign. Especially now you have the Sons of Rhannon to take on that duty.” He smiled at her. “If we can somehow prove he’s an imposter, then the election is undoubtedly sewn up. But, even if we can’t prove it, I think you can win anyway. I know you can. So your job is to focus on that.”
Sorrow reached for his hand and squeezed. “You’re a good advisor. A good friend. I’m so glad to know you,” she said as she released him.
Luvian stiffened, closing his eyes, and Sorrow wondered if she’d upset him. “Of course you are, who wouldn’t be?” he said finally, opening his eyes and sitting up. “Let’s go and find these kishkies.”
They took Dain with them to the restaurant Xalys had recommended, asking for a table for three. She seemed confused to be included, and Sorrow couldn’t blame her, given the way she’d treated her so far. Sorrow was ashamed of her behaviour, and so she made an effort to talk to her while they waited for their food.
“Where are you from?” Sorrow asked.
“The East Marches,” Dain replied.
Sorrow waited to see if she’d add anything else, but when it became apparent she had no plans to, she asked, “What made you choose to join the Decorum Ward?”
“It’s a job,” she said in her soft-as-velvet voice. “Papa is dead, Mam’s not up to much and I’m the eldest of five. We needed money, and it pays. Besides, there aren’t a lot of jobs out there and I’m… Well, I’m big. It made advancing through the ranks a lot easier. And the higher you go, the more money there is, so…” She trailed off, head lowering a fraction, and Sorrow’s heart twisted in sympathy for her.
She knew what it was to have few – or no – choices about the path your life took. Dain was doing what she had to, for herself and her family, and that was something Sorrow had come to understand. And if Dain felt that way, perhaps others in the Decorum Ward did too. Perhaps they needed a chance somewhere else.
“Do you like it?” Sorrow’s voice was soft.
Dain stared at her, and Luvian turned to her too.
“I don’t like throwing my weight around,” Dain said, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t like bullies. Or cowards. The two tend to go hand in hand. I don’t want to become one.”
Sorrow understood then why Dain had stood up for her at the bridge.
She smiled at her guard. “A lot of things are going to change when I win the election,” she said as their food arrived. “For everyone. For you, if you want. I’ll probably need a constant bodyguard, someone I employ.”