“I used to think I wanted you to call me that,” he says. “But it turns out that when you do, good things seldom come after.”
“Not at all,” I say. “I came to tell you that you were right. I hate the idea of Oak’s being in danger, but if we can engineer when Undersea’s strike comes, that’s safer for Oak.”
“You’ve been planning out the guarding of him while he’s here.” He grins, showing his sharp teeth. “Hard to cover every eventuality.”
“Impossible.” I sigh, walking deeper into the room. “So I’m on board. Let me help misdirect the Undersea. I have resources.” He’s been a general a long time. He planned Dain’s murder and got away with it. He’s better at this than I am.
“What if you only want to thwart me?” he asks. “You can hardly expect me to take it on faith that now you are in earnest.”
Although he has every reason to, Madoc’s distrust stings. I wonder what it would have been like if he had shared his plans for putting Oak on the throne before I was witness to the coronation bloodbath. Had he trusted me to be a part of his scheme, I wonder if I would have waved away my doubts. I don’t like to think of that being possible, but I fear it might be.
“I wouldn’t put my brother at risk,” I say, half in response to him, half in response to my own fears.
“Oh?” he asks. “Not even to save him from my clutches?”
I guess I deserve that. “You said you wanted me to come back to your side. Here’s your chance to show me what it would be like to work with you. Persuade me.”
While I control the throne, we can’t ever truly be on the same side, but maybe we could work together. Maybe he can channel his ambition into beating the Undersea and forget about the throne, at least until Oak comes of age. By then, at least, things will be different.
He indicates the table with a map of the islands and his carved figurines. “Orlagh has a week to strike, unless she means to set a trap back in the mortal world in Oak’s absence. You have guards on Vivienne’s apartment—ones you’ve engaged outside the military and who do not look like knights. Clever. But nothing and no one is infallible. I think the place most advantageous for us to tempt them into striking—”
“The Undersea is going to make its move during Taryn’s wedding.”
“What?” He gives me a narrow-eyed evaluation. “How do you know that?”
“Nicasia,” I say. “And I think I can narrow things more if we work fast. I have a way to get information to Balekin, information that he will believe.”
Madoc’s eyebrows rise.
I nod. “A prisoner. I’ve already sent information through her successfully.”
He turns away from me to pour himself a finger of some dark liquor and flop back into the leather chair. “These are the resources you mentioned?”
“I do not come to you empty-handed,” I say. “Aren’t you at least a little pleased you decided to trust me?”
“I could claim that it was you who finally decided to trust me. Now it remains to be seen how well we will work together. There are many more projects on which we could collaborate.”
Like taking the throne. “One misadventure at a time,” I caution him.
“Does he know?” Madoc asks, grinning a slightly terrifying yet paternal fashion. “Does our High King have any idea how good you are at running his kingdom for him?”
“Keep hoping he doesn’t,” I say, trying for a breezy confidence that I don’t feel when it comes to anything to do with Cardan or our arrangement.
Madoc laughs. “Oh, I shall, daughter, much as I hope you will realize how much better it would be if you were to be running it for your own family.”
Cardan’s audience with Balekin takes place the next day. My spies tell me he spent the night alone—no riotous parties, no drunken revels, no contests for lyres. I do not know how to interpret that.
Balekin is led into the throne room in chains, but he walks with his head up, in clothing far too fine for the Tower. He flaunts his ability to obtain luxuries, flaunts his arrogance, as though Cardan is to be awed by this instead of annoyed.
For his part, Cardan looks especially formidable. He wears a coat of mossy velvet, embroidered all over in bright gold. The earring given to him by Grimsen dangles from his lobe, catching the light as he turns his head. No revelers are here today, but the room is not empty. Randalin and Nihuar stand together near the dais to one side, near three guards. I am on the other, standing near a patch of shadows. Servants linger nearby, ready to pour wine or play harps, as suits the High King’s pleasure.
I arranged with Vulciber for Lady Asha to get a note just as Balekin was being brought up the stairs and out of the Tower for this audience.
The note read: